Snowpants For Everyone!

Ma-ma-ma Christmas face, ma-ma Christmas face!

2009-12-13T00:56:00.004-05:00

A Christmas miracle has happened! For the first time in about 12 years, I felt like putting up my little Christmas tree.... so I did!

This may not seem like a big deal, but my Christmas spirit was doused a long time ago, with the onset of severe and long-term family dysfunction, and I never thought it would return. But with rifts slowly healing over in my family, and wounds being patched up, the last few years have been less and less painful at Christmas. Last year I actually found myself *gasp* enjoying Christmas!?

I did think about the tree for a brief moment last year, but didn't quite have the heart to put it up. Seemed too much like a dare to Murphy's, or some other as-of-yet unnamed law (who's attributes would be "when things seem to be improving, do not question how or why, or thou shalt be punished"). So I left it up in the storage space, buried under the random odds and ends that inhabit storage spaces: bags of old clothing; craft supplies; charcoal covered newsprint pads from those life drawing classes; boxes of cassette tapes that you can't throw out even though you no longer own a tape player (ie. Wham's debut album, the complete "Cats" soundtrack, mixed tapes with titles like "Vocal Jazz and some Barbara", dozens of tapes of terrible songs written and recorded between 1989 and 1995...etc). Needless to say, much like here in this paragraph, thoughts of the little tree were soon forgotten.

This year, I attribute my dipping into the Christmas spirit to a few things:

1. Bailey's (lol, just kidding)

2. being in a loving, healthy, three year relationship after years of bad, BAD choices

3. many hours spent making adorable little Christmas crafts and ornaments with kids at the school, at my day job

4. volunteering once a month at a local seniors residence, singing oldies to many of the wonderful elderly folks who live there (This has been an experience so inspiring and rewarding, I think I will need a whole other post to talk about it. Suffice to say for now I am cooking up a night of sing-along Christmas carols on the 23rd, and can't wait-- I ordered a book called "Christmas Carols for the Autoharp" today on Amazon.ca, hope it arrives in time!)

5. diminishing fear that all the healing and growth in my family will suddenly come to a crashing, disastrous end.

6. my niece, Lexy. Since she's been around (three years on Jan 11th!), everyone just seems nicer to each other, visits are happening more frequently, people are stabbing each other in the back and going on week long, self-destructive, substance abusing benders FAR less often... everyone has either chilled out, thanks to Lexy's existence, or gotten themselves on some seriously good (prescription!) drugs. [BTW, My sister has another one on the way, a boy this time, and I can't wait to meet him. She had an ultrasound the other day, and the technician called in for backup because the little rascal appeared to be sprinting around her womb, and he/she couldn't catch a clear image of the little future Olympian. We were hoping for a laid-back, docile child, to counteract Lexy's.... erm...... let's call it strong "character" (she's an adorable little heart stealing MONSTER!!!)..... but it appears my sis will have no such luck.]

7. I'm just getting soft and gooey in my old age. Don't worry, I still hate The Santa Claus Parade and being bombarded with Christmas carols and SALE! SALE! SALE! every time I leave the house, but... I am getting older, my parents and grandparents are too, and I am becoming increasingly aware that we won't all be together forever.... Sad as that may seem, it's true for all of us. Life is long, but it doesn't last forever, so grab onto the good things, when they come around, and enjoy them! Who cares if "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" is playing again for the 17th time today (it's better than that fucking Lady Gaga and that trashy no-talent Shakira-- which bleed through the walls of our studio from the print shop up front all day long!)

Speaking of the studio, got some shows coming up you should check out:

Radiant Dark
The Interior Design Show
Come Up To My Room

Yes, it's Christmas, and I'm busy, fat and content. All is eerily, uncharacteristically well.

Happy Holidays everyone!

Ambling....

2009-11-15T03:46:00.003-05:00

I was thinking about my various different jobs, and how strange it must seem to people around me when they ask me what i do. A new friend might ask what I do, and I'd probably answer "I'm a musician". And then later on they'd overhear me say "I'm a designer" and be confused. I do a lot of both. And I DJ on the weekends to pay for my expensive recording and making things habit.

Or they might hear me talking about my day job, which is currently assisting a college student in her field placement at a Catholic High School-- she has cerebral Palsy, and needs an extra set of hands at work. We call me "The Hands". I'd prefer "Superhands" in a Peep Show hommage... I fell into it, kicking and screaming, (like I have time for another f*cking job!) but as it turns out, I am rather enjoying it.

One of the CSWs who works at the school very confusedly asked me the other day why I was good at that job, when I was just a musician. I laughed, and gave him the "three tries at finding the right post-secondary education" spiel. He still seemed confused afterwards, but he did say "Ahhhh...." so I left it at that. He's not too clever.

I didn't go into Developmental Service Work, even though I graduated at the top of my class. It was too depressing, and music was too seductive at the time. I came home crying from my placements in the field too often. Turns out, all the families I had worked with along the way, the ones who had made me think it might be a good field for me, were just awesome anomalies. The real world was full of assholes and red tape, and obstacles that you'd kick down every day, only to find them return the next day.

Speaking of obstacles, the girl I work for (we'll call her "J") is just amazing. She has surmounted the kind of obstacles I couldn't even imagine, from learning to talk, to type, to jump an inconvenient curb in her electric wheelchair fearlessly, to laugh off abuse from a former assisstant. She has a smile that melts your heart, with dimples, to boot. I watch everyday as people's voices jump up an octave in pitch, and down a decade and a half in vocabulary as they speak to her, slowly, loudly and clearly like she's six years old. I want to punch them in the face. I urge her to fake a spasm (spasms are a regular thing with CP) and whack them in the belly "accidentally". She smiles and genuinely shrugs it off. J amazes me, and I am trying to be a little more like her.

I really have no plan for this post tonight, I just felt the need to write. Perhaps to drown out the one set of platform heels stomping impossibly off-beat above my head, to weird, random selections of the DJ at the Goth club that resides above our studio that I swear only four people ever go to. It's as silent as a ghost town during the day, but at night, they scurry out and listen to really loud, strange music that I would never have known was de rigeur in Goth circles. Yaz? Really???

Don't worry. I'll find my flow. Where was I? Oh yeah, I was talking about having so many jobs. See, it works like this: I don't want to waitress ever again. And I haven't had to for about 9 years. Waitressing also makes me want to punch people. Sometimes I still have nightmares that I'm in the weeds, and I wake up sweaty and sooooo relieved it's only a dream. The only thing I miss about waitressing was the free food and the money! And the rock solid arms.

I've been DJing now for about 16 years, and it pays quite well. Plus there are sometimes perks like VIP film festival gigs and week long gigs in Venice, Whistler or on the Baltic Sea. Haven't had one of those for a while though.... I think it's because the last time, I refused to play a song three times in one night for the woman who runs that program, and I pissed her off. She looks a lot like Geddy Lee, so she would be prone to being angry, I think.

Sometimes, I make money on the side performing with my jazz combo, but not as often as a few years ago. I realized it was not really worth it. The money I made was not worth all the time I spent arranging equipment, band, rides, etc. etc. Plus, I always would give people discounts, because it was always a friend, or a friend of a friend. And that's no way to make money. I have to stop doing that. Mike says I have to be more firm, when it comes to my time and money. It's hard though. Even when I sell stuff I've made at the studio, it feels like I'm charging too much. But I have to account for all my overhead, time, supplies, rent etc. etc. etc. I was just not made for business. I have only a creative side to my brain.

Speaking of thinking creatively, I think I might have worked out a solution to having two mistresses (design and music) successfully: You do them in blocks of time. 2 months of solid work in the design studio, day and night; no recording, no gigs. Then, 2 months of solid gigs, working at home, recording and spending time in the recording studio. That's a little harder, because in the design studio, there are no distractions, except of course, for this, procrastinating on the internet. At home (where I'm supposed to be doing other music work-- recording and programming and stuff) there are naps, kitties, treadmills, shops, cleaning out closets, arranging bookshelves....many many distractions. And the computer too.

But it's ok. It's working so far. I don't want to give either one up. I just have to do both, a bit slower than normal people. I'm a slug. Steady, and sure. I'll get there one day!

Speaking of bugs, (are slugs bugs?) the only thing that bugs me (see how I'm doing that, tying each paragraph to the last few?) (oh no wait, I used a pun! Sorry!!! So sorry! That cancels out any cleverness) is I don't like having this day job. I have a hard time convincing myself to go to work after getting home from work. And it's not like it's a long torturous day, the hours are short, and it's fun. It's the commute-- an hour and a half each way on TTC. I'm getting tons of reading and knitting done, but by the time I get home, I feel like napping, not working. Thankfully, the job is all done in April. But I will miss them :)

Wow, that's a whole lot of paragraphs for somebody with not much to say tonight. I apologize, internet, for not writing in so long, and for having nothing to say tonight. Goodnight, my three readers. Here are pictures of some of the stuff I've been working on lately...

Cowtown & Big Sky

2009-06-18T03:59:00.008-04:00

I can't sleep, so I am going to post some photos from my recent trip to Alberta. But first, I'll share the last picture on my camera from before the trip.

I bought some Polish sausage as a thank you for Mike's boss for letting me use his shop (and his paint guy) to customize my new bike (pics coming up next time!) I made a sticky note, to remind Mike to take it to the shop, and somehow it ended up on Rufus. Mike says he doesn't know how it got there; I'm not buying it!

Ok, so friends of ours, from Alberta, went back home to get married in a modern day take on an old-time, small town wedding. I was honoured to be invited and asked to sing during the ceremony. The groom (John) was supposed to fly in on the wednesday, so we planned to fly out and surprise him at his bachelor party that night (I'm an honourary bachelor). However, the saturday before the wedding, John got really sick and had to fly out late, so he missed his bachelor party (we'll get you a new one in the fall, when you get better John!) and we found ourselves alone in Calgary for two days.

A few words about Calgary, from the eyes of a Cork-towner: clean, welcoming, smallish, easy to navigate, demographically homogenous, expensive, a little boring, friendly, under construction, great restaurants, not much to see... Calgary! Feel free to disagree.

I liked Calgary better than I thought I would, but I must admit, Edmonton is way cooler. I mean no disrespect, but the best part of Calgary was journey to and from Calgary and Fort Macleod. I have never seen such a huge sky! It's so immense, it's almost oppressive! In Toronto, the largest thing you see when you look around is the skyline-- all the buildings, and maybe the lake, if you are at the beach. In Alberta, outside the city, all you see is land-- rolling hills, mountains and BIG SKY! It's awesome, in the pre-1980s meaning of the word.

Look! You can see the curve of the planet!

It was FREEZING, by the way, so I spent most of the first two days trying to find a coat and something more suitable to wear in the 1 degree weather (silly me, I was thinking June wedding, summer temperatures?). Here is a pic of the most under construction building I have ever been inside, without a hard-hat-- The Calgary Mall:

And here is a picture of some snow, in JUNE, which appeared not long after the crazy hail storm we were so fortunate to be caught in:

The wedding was in Steph (the bride's) hometown, Fort Macleod, population 3000, every single one of them nicer than the next! Fort Macleod happens to be the town in which the movie Brokeback Mountain was filmed (you know the scene where they're making out in the stairwell, and his wife looks down and catches them? We walked by there like 10 times a day) Kind of funny, since Alberta is supposed to be so homophobic, that there are numerous plaques around the tiny town referring to the movie. Funnily enough, there's no mention of it on the town website. ;)

Steph and John got married in the theatre on main street, which was a very beautiful and well preserved early 1900s, multi-purpose theatre, and perfectly fitting, since the bride and groom are both "in" theatre. The next two photos are not mine, but I kinda forgot to take pictures of the town. These belong to a guy on flikr named "hikerguy". Hope he doesn't mind me borrowing them!

It's a quaint little town, with a pre-confederation feel, and we stayed in one of the 4 motels they have there, and apparently chose the wrong one:

Yes, it was raining in the bathroom!

The day of the wedding, we had time to go to Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump, which was only about 30 minutes away. It was pretty crazy seeing it all in person. Not like there's a mountain of buffalo bones at the bottom of the cliff, but actually being there, and reading all about it, watching the recreations and historical footage, and realizing how quickly the near-extinction of the buffalo came about after the onset of European immigration. And, for me, the most significant moment came when I read the copy of the treaty that was offered the Blackfoot, Blood and Peigans by the government of Canada. They really did make the offer sound appealing. Seriously, I can see how the tribes would be wooed by the terms of the treaties, especially since their main source of food, shelter and clothing (the buffalo) was fast disappearing. Too bad Canada had no intention of following through with most of the promises made.

Here are some pictures we took...it was snowing as we arrived, and then hailing, so it's not a very clear day, but still, yo can see how beautiful it was there:

Another aspect particularly enjoyed-- the HSIBJ Centre's carpet, which ran throughout the 5 floors of the building

This is the Smiley Barn, which I saw on the way back into Calgary, from Fort Macleod.

I actually stole the second picture of the Smiley Barn from Rob Mitchelson, who played guitar with me during the ceremony, and got a much better picture of it! And here's us at the ceremony!

Music is My Boyfriend

2009-05-07T02:35:00.005-04:00

I am sipping a thimble-sized glass of Baileys on ice, by myself at 3 in the morning, not at all worried if this makes me an alcoholic or not. It is a little gift to myself, more about the sugar and milk content than the booze; a gift for a job well done this evening. Post-gig, celebratory nightcap, in a very cute antique, cut-crystal liqueur glass, one of a set that I pulled out of the garbage room a few months ago-- but that's another story.

I am not sure what I want to write about tonight...I just got inspired by my friend Cate's blog, which I read from time to time....and felt the need to break the seal, crack the ice, open the door...what have you... on my own blog, which has been wasting away, neglected for the last 6 months.

It's not that I haven't had anything to say... it's just that all my thoughts have been pouring into my music and my design work as of late. Which is a good thing, but I have missed writing these, and I do keep getting nagged about having but not using this blog.

So, last time I wrote, I promised to tell you about an amazing recording experience I had in the summer with a rock legend! It's almost too long ago now to do justice, but, he came back again last week, and we did one more song, so I am re-invigorated by his genius... so I'll see if I can tell the story now.....

The man is Garth Hudson. He is best known for his work with The Band, Ronnie Hawkins and Bob Dylan. He is a virtuosic keyboardist, and basically pioneered the use of the organ in rock and roll. Just google him, if you don't know who I'm talking about.

Garth is a proud Canadian, though he lives in New York State now, he visits Canada frequently. He is well known for being an excellent studio musician, as well as performer. He's done session work with (among many others) Neko Case, The Sadies, Martha Wainwright--some of my favourite musicians. My partner Scott (who's helping me finance and produce my album, as well as co-writing some of the songs) is a HUGE fan, and had this craaaaazy idea that we should email Mr. Hudson and ask him to come play on a few tunes next time he was in Toronto. I humoured him, knowing there was no way Garth freeking HUDSON was going to listen to my tracks, let alone respond or agree to this craziness, and Scott whipped off an email. The VERY NEXT DAY, I got a call from Maud, his wife, saying that she and Garth happened to be in Toronto, and would I like to meet with them, because Garth liked my tunes? I nearly peed myself and/or dropped the phone when she introduced herself (those of you who know me can imagine how much nervous giggling was going on), but her big, warm drawl calmed me down, and we chatted for a while and made plans to meet that night at Fran's Restaurant, an all night diner.

Now, I'm a night owl, but the Hudsons are even more nocturnal than I, so we met at about 4am, after Garth finished a session nearby. He didn't say much at all that first meeting, and neither did I (too friggin nervous). Maud did most of the talking, and Garth quietly ate his lemon meringue pie as I stole glances at him, trying to see under the rim of his big, black hat. He still had the wild, flyaway hair and great bushy beard, though both are silver now, as he must be in his 70s... And I was intimidated as could be, though they were all very sweet, complimentary and easy going.

After a couple of hours of getting to know each other, I left them with a CD of the songs I was hoping Garth would like enough to play, and went home to scream into a pillow for a few hours.

It's not that I was start struck, because I wasn't really. It's more that Garth has an air about him. He's a LEGEND. He's played with BOB DYLAN. He is a GENIUS. He likes MY music???!!! Maud told me he gets requests all the time, that they always listen to, but rarely respond to. That fact alone, makes me feel like I have accomplished something with my music. A compliment, like none other.

Cut to a few weeks later, when Garth came back to Toronto, and squeezed a day in to record 4 of my songs. I picked him up at the hotel, Maud stayed behind to work (I get the sense she is the glue, the salt, the meat-- the one who makes things happen-- thought she herself is also a very talented musician). There was a few moments of silence in the car, nervous small talk on my part. Then Garth took out his corn cob pipe (!) and began to speak-- about what, I can't remember, but listening to him, I felt my hands relaxing a bit, and my shoulders coming down from the painful permahunch... He has this amazing voice, somewhere between farmer/professor/shaman... and it is slow, and steeped with wisdom. There is no sense of an ego, though the man knows more about music than all the musicians I have ever met in my whole life wrapped up in one.

When we got to the studio, he went straight to the beat-up old piano in the corner, ignoring the bazillion dollar grand piano in the main room, and played nothing in particular, except that whatever it was, it had me in tears, weak kneed immediately. Everyone in the room-- myself, Scott, Ben the owner, Watson the engineer-- shared a look of disbelief-- slack-jawed, at the magic sound of Garth's playing, mere feet away. We could have stopped right then and it would have been worth it.

It was a long, arduous day in the studio. Garth was very tired as he'd gotten next to no sleep the night before, recording til the wee hours of dawn. But as Neil Young says (an old buddy of Garth's!) that's his style, man. He thrives on sleep deprivation, and he played beautifully. We did 10 times more talking, eating, joking and listening to Garth's stories than we did actual recording, but it was a perfect day.

Garth played accordian on two songs, and organ on two others. He has a unique way of working. Once he's heard the song a few times, he does a take. Then he comes in to the booth to listen, stopping to have the engineer erase a bum note here or there (the very few that there may be). Then, he goes back in and records a second take, without listening to the first, comes back out and repeats the "wiping" process. It is a fairly tedious way to work, but he knows exactly what he is looking for, and what his overall vision is. Because, suddenly, he asks the engineer to play all the edited takes back together, and you have pure musical genius. I don't know how he does that-- without listening to them together. He reminds me a bit of a modern Beethoven, writing music from memory...

The most memorable part of the whole experience for me, (and this happened again, last week when he came back) was the first few moments, when he sat down to record each song. I cannot express what an honour it was (IS) to have Garth Hudson play my music. I am always appreciative, and thankful of any musician who will learn my songs, and come out and play them with me. But Garth is sooooo unbelieveably talented, and busy, and legendary, and soulful, and I could go on and on. It was overwhelming, and by FAR the best musical experience I've ever had.

This time, when he came out to record, I was much more comfortable and relaxed with Garth, and had a chance to get to know him a bit. He is Rainman knowledgeable about music, and we got on a lot of off-topic threads, stemming from licks that he liked to play, or tunes he thought I should listen to. I made a long list, and have some serious homework to do, because most of them are fairly obscure. Every now and then, he'd tell little anecdotes, casually mentioning people I've read about, listened to, loved, for years ("Well, Levon has these parties at his barn...") It was kind of surreal. But the best part was how kind Garth was. He treated me like a musical equal, (which is ridiculous!) and shared his stories and melodies with all of us. He hung out and ate the homemade pastries I brought into the studio. He spent time teaching Ben and I how to learn scales, and gave me a pamphlet he'd photocopied at the library on proper musical notation and just really seemed to enjoy, and be, himself.

I imagine he is more at home in the studio than anywhere else. But I confess, I would love to see him puttering around the kitchen, or garage of his own home. Smoking his pipe on the porch, watching the sunset, drinking tea with Maud, telling stories about the road, and hearing endless melodies run through his head.

Thanks be to Thansgiving

2008-09-27T13:44:00.001-04:00

Thanksgiving is my favourite holiday. It's the only one where you get to have the whole family together for a big, celebratory meal without the added pressure of present-buying frenzies, enforced aging, religious dogmas, etc. Also, it's the only holiday with a message I really believe in.

The history of First Nation Peoples in Canada (and the U.S.) is something that I know shamefully little about, despite vague, inaccurate, Western-skewed lessons in elementary school history class. The more I learn about it as an adult, the more horrified I become about the way the Canadian government bullied and lied it's way into claiming ownership of this continent. You don't have to dig very deep to find a long list of broken promises and outright betrayals of the native people of Canada, perpetrated by John A. and the rest of the Confederate government.

In fact, if you want to be cynical, I am kind of surprised that Thanksgiving is an official, statutory holiday, since we tend to sweep most issues concerning the First Nations under the rug.

Thanksgiving is the prescribed day in which we North Americans remember the kindness of the early First Nations People to the arriving settlers on the shores of the St. Lawrence. So the story goes, kind native Canadians welcomed the pioneers, and taught them how to hunt, shelter and survive in the Canadian wilderness. We all know how we repaid their kindness.

So, I do believe Thanksgiving to be the most important celebration of the year. And I wish it wasn't relegated to just one day. This year, take the time to look around your big kitchen table and be thankful for what and who you have in your life. Even those of us with family issues, personal hardship and trauma can find something to be thankful about, if we look hard enough. After all, we are all here in this beautiful country, living peaceful and free lives.

p.s. Come celebrate with me on Saturday October 11th, at Bread & Circus in Kensington Market. I will be playing a bunch of new songs, and hosting a Thanksgiving Potluck. It's my first turkey, so come hungry!

Other Creepy Crawlies

2008-09-23T03:39:00.004-04:00

While waiting for the GO train at Port Credit Station last weekend, I noticed a BIG spider...and then another one...and then about 50,000 of them. Seriously. Look up, next time you are there.

Mythbusting

2008-09-23T02:16:00.004-04:00

Really, I just have a bunch of photos to post, but I will say a few words first, to debunk the myth of the slowness of snails.

I have a colony of snails living and growing in a goldfish bowl in my kitchen. It started with one snail, whom I harvested from my friend John's tank because I thought it was cute. I managed to keep it to one snail only for months (this particular kind of snail breeds asexually), ritualistically culling unwanted eggs, and watching him/her grow bigger and cuter everyday. Then one day, I guess I missed a batch of eggs, because BAM! there was like 80 of them sliming around in there. So I have given in, and continue to let them procreate to their heart's content. They are really cute.

I decided to take some pictures of them the other day. Snails are really fascinating up close, and I wanted to try to capture some of their characteristics with my macro-lens. They have little mouths that are constantly scrubbing the sides of the tank, plants and rocks. They have little eyes, which aren't, contrary to popular depiction, at the end of their "feelers", but are on their faces. The "feelers" are just "feelers", as far as I can tell. Hmm...what's the technical term for a "feeler"? It's not quite an antennae...not really a horn...somewhere in between. And they have beautiful, one-of-a-kind patterns on their shells, which grow with them, over the months. They start of about as big as a pin head, and the largest I have seen gets to be about the size of a blueberry.

However, I was entirely unsuccessful in my attempts to photograph them. The little mofos refused to sit still. In fact, come to think of it, I have never, EVER seen a stationary snail. I think, like sharks, they never stop moving. Or maybe mine are just really high strung.

...And the little s.o.b.s are FAST! You know how everyone sterotypes snails for being slow--"inching along like a snail"; "going at a snail's pace" etc? Well it's not true! Snails are speedy. I bet if you did some kind of comparative analysis on snails-- speed vs. size vs. distance covered-- you'd discover they're nearly as fast as humans. Maybe not, like, Usain Bolt fast, but definitely mall-walking-granny fast. Or faster. I was duly impressed, and so should you be.

So excuse the blurry photos. What can I say? They were just too damn fast!

Garfield Minus Garfield

2008-08-23T03:22:00.007-04:00

I am really excited right now because I just discovered Garfield Minus Garfield. A Irish man named Dan Walsh has re-invisioned actual Garfield comic strips, but without Garfield, Odie, Pookie or any of the other characters except Jon. The results are funny and disturbing. Here's what the website says:

"Garfield Minus Garfield is a site dedicated to removing Garfield from the Garfield comic strips in order to reveal the existential angst of a certain young Mr. Jon Arbuckle. It is a journey deep into the mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness and depression in a quiet American suburb."

What's amazing is that Walsh has done this WITH the permission of Garfield creator, Jim Davis. Apparently when Davis saw them, and was so impressed with the reinterpretation, he decided to allow Walsh to continue to edit and publish the strips, and the two are now collaborating to release a "Garfield Minus Garfield" book.

I find it really very interesting and amusing to look over the same cartoons I saw as a child with an entirely different viewpoint. No one has ever done anything like this with children's material before, to my knowledge. Or at least, no one has ever done it, gotten away with it, and even had the blessing of the original author!

I was a huge and I mean HUGE Garfield fan as a kid. My stepmother even made me a Garfield birthday cake one year, and I have never been so excited about cake (okay that's a lie....all cake is exciting---ooooh, especially the Simone LeBon cake she made two years later!) I still have all my Garfield books, and browse through them occasionally. What's sad is I dont find them funny at all anymore. Not even a little bit. They have unfortunately crossed into that vapid territory occupied by "Family Circus" and "Cathy".

I think that's okay, though. I think that's what's supposed to happen: you're supposed to grow up, and NOT still laugh at dead baby jokes and armpit farts. It's a good sign if you're 35 and you don't still find "Ziggy" hilarious.

The problem is, I don't WANT to grow up. I desperately WANT to still find Garfield funny. Every time I leaf through the books, I am like "please, let me laugh this time!"

But I don't. *Sigh*

So thank you Dan Walsh (a good, solid, straight-man-in- the-comics kind of a name, don't you think). For making Garfield funny again.

images from www.garfieldminusgarfield.net

Dream Myself Alive

2008-08-16T16:28:00.004-04:00

My apartment is a mess, which reflects my mental state. My Nanna used to say her bedroom was "upside down" when it was messier than she liked, and therefore off limits. Mine however, is apparely, "sideways".

Feeling busy, lazy, tired, excited, creative and overwhelmed all at the same time. Big plans to use this blog like a verbal fencing pit in the next while... Tossing things up in the air, skewering some, letting others fall...

I have been writing a lot lately. Music, that is, not this kind of writing. It's good for me....each song feels like a major accomplishment if I complete it, and if I still like it once it's finished.

In the past I have written mostly about my relationships--usually when they are new and exciting, or when they are failing painfully.... eg. "Afterglow", "Happy", "Inside", "Noah", "On The Highwire", "Blame", "Never Fall", "Half The Man"...

But for the last year and a half my love life has been stable and supportive, which although wonderful, leads to me having little to say musically. I hadn't written a song in maybe 6 months. Then in June, I wrote one for a dear friend who finally found the courage to leave a very destructive and abusive relationship. I was thinking about how scary that can be...wondering if you'd ever heal, wondering if anyone would ever find you attractive again, whether you'd ever find anyone else attractive again...? It's a quiet, private little song, just for me and her. Nobody else will ever hear it.

It sparked me, musically. All these repressed melodies came bubbling up: at the studio, clay-covered drill in hand, humming, searching for some way to record the persistant little melody that demanded to be written down. I discovered a function on my new cellphone: it makes voice recordings. How handy! Hopefully I won't accidentally text message them to people hahaha.

I 'd take the melody home to the piano, ruminate for a while, and elaborate on it. But for the first time in my life, I had this panicky feeling like I had nothing to say. It went deep, this panic, because of my secret fear that I am actually a shallow, hollow person with no real opinions or intelligence. (This fear was launched by an ex-boyfriend who said something like that to me in the heat of an argument, once, years ago. I know it's not true, but it remains, a kernal of insecurity stuck in my mind, forever).

In actual fact, it's not that I had nothing to write about-- it was just that I had to change techniques, create new pathways in my songwriting process. I had to look beyond the immediate desperation and emotion that songwriting has always emerged out of, and ask myself what I have been thinking about lately. What are things that are important to me that I have never written about, and why haven't I written about these things before?

The environment, obviously, is a big one. How can I be so vehemently "green" in my lifestyle, but never consider it in my music? After some serious soul searching, I wrote a song called "Manufactured Landscapes" which is a title I stole from a book about Ed Burtynsky.

Another big issue for me is Canadian patriotism (or lack of). This concept first tweaked in me when I moved to America for a year in 2000, and later became a part of the regular discourse of my design work, but never of my music, thus far. I am very pleased with the fun little song with (what I consider) a big message that was born a couple of weeks ago, which I have entitled "Humble Pie."

Another new song, less political and more theoretical, is called "Starting Tonight." It's a little self-pep song about "the best night of my life" and all that would occur on such a night. It has a line where I imagine I am a train whistle, all swoops and overtones...

And just a few days ago, I tackled a subject that has been very purposefully avoided by me for the last 2 years: the death of one of my best friends, Christina Jarvis. I sat down and wrote this little bossanova tribute to her, with the only rule being I could gush all I wanted, but no sappiness or depressive lyrics. It is written almost entirely tongue-in-cheek, (as she would have LOVED) but I will confess I do get fairly emotional when I play it. It was supposed to be the song that I waited 2 years to write in order to NOT make myself (or anyone else) cry when I played it... I almost succeeded.

So, as it turns out, I DO have lots to say. What a relief!

Hmm. I was planning on writing about a recording experience I had on Wednesday with a world renown musician, and personal hero of mine....but I guess I will save that for the next post, cuz I have to go to a bbq now. Mmmm...sweet BBQ! Has anyone written a song about you and your charbroiled goodness? :)

Holy Crap

2008-08-11T21:41:00.003-04:00

Has it really been almost three months since I updated this?

I am sitting at my kitchen table right now, in a fairly black mood, with a rather large, sharp kitchen knife off to my right, beside my hand. I used it at breakfast and didn't put it away. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt anyone, I just think it's kind of funny. It's like one of those little jokes that God plays...."I know you're really angry right now, so I'm going to put this great big knife beside you and see what you do..." It's probably some kind of test. Wonder if I have passed or failed it....?

Actually, I can't even kill flies (mosquitos, yes, but only with an emboldening yell of "DIE!") I'm the kind of person who would likely, even in the reddest of rages, maim themselves accidentally long before ever managing to inflict any pain upon anyone else... So even if I wanted to wade into murderous territory, I don't suppose I would find myself very successful at it. So, no one need worry, seriously-- ain't no stabbing going on here. Just murderously ironic observations.

I did, however, moments ago, feel like murdering my cats, just for a second. One of them had somehow knocked over the kitty litter box, spilling kitty litter all over the hall, and blocking the front door. The other cat (or I suppose it could have been the spiller, but I doubt it) then promptly peed on this new, lower, more convenient pile of litter. Lovely. I had to push the door open through a large, wet bead of stinky kitty litter, and then got stuck because my bike wouldn't fit around it. And then roll my bike through peed-on kitty litter.

Good thing they're so cute or they would have been set free in the forest long ago.

Best. Lyrics. Ever.

2008-05-20T00:30:00.002-04:00

Ok, so I am like 16 months behind everyone else, but I just started watching "Flight of the Conchords" which is this weird show where these two nerds (who are actually a folk-rock duo from New Zealand in real life) basically do nothing all day long, except go about their normal, boring lives, interact with other people, and break into song... frequently.

I am pretty enthralled, because it's really REALLY funny. I just googled the lyrics to Part-Time Model, which is a song that Jermaine sings to this hot girl he's about to introduce himself to at a party.....

Part-Time Model Lyrics by Flight of the Conchords

Looking 'round the room
I can tell that you
Are the most beautiful girl
In the room.
(In the whole wide room)

And when you're on the street
Depending on the street
I bet that you are definitely
In the top three
Good looking girls on the street
(Depending on the street)

And when I saw you at my mate's place
I thought, 'What is she doing
At my mate's place'
How did Dave get
A hottie like that
To a party like this'
Good work, Dave.'
(Ooh, you're a legend, Dave)

I ask Dave if he's gonna make a move on you
He's not sure
I say, 'Dave, do you mind if I do''
He says he doesn't mind
But I can tell he kinda minds
But I'm gonna do it anyway

I see you standing all alone by the stereo
I dim the lights down very low
Here we go

You're so beautiful
You could be a waitress
You're so beautiful
You could be an air hostess in the '60's
You're so beautiful
You could be a part-time model

And then I seal the deal
I do my moves
I do my dance moves
(It's 12:02)
Just me and you
And seven other dudes
Around you on the dance floor

I draw you near
Let's get out of here
Let's get in a cab
I'll buy you a kebab
I can't believe
That I'm sharing a kebab
With the most beautiful girl
I have ever seen with a kebab

Why don't we leave'
Let's go to my house
And we can feel each other up on the couch
Oh no, I don't mind taking it slow
No-o-o-o

'Cause you're so beautiful
Like a tree
Or a high-class prostitute

You're so beautiful
You could be a part-time model
But you'd probably still have to keep your normal job
(A part-time model)
Spending part of your time modeling
And part of your time next to me

....My place is usually tidier than this

hehe. Ok so this is a lame excuse for a post. Whatever. I thought it was THAT funny!

testing

2008-05-04T12:18:00.000-04:00

Random Visuals

2008-04-16T03:48:00.004-04:00

I have a file on my desktop called "to blog" for moments when I have more time than things to do, or for when I just need to be self-indulgent and procrastinatory (I LOVE making up words). Anyhow, since I can't seem to sleep at 4:20am, even though I'm tired, I just rifled through and pulled out a bunch of random images I have been setting aside to post. Some are mine, some, I stumbled across in the internet...all are completely unrelated. Since I don't have the mental energy to write anything much right now, I will just identify them for you, and hopefully that will take long enough to make me sleepy...........

1. Very rare, empty subway moment. I could practically hear the cricket's chirping. I thought I had been sucked into another realm. At the very next stop, about 18 people got on.

2. New shoes for me and the boy. Mighty flashy! Haven't really ever met a straight boy who likes to shop (and who shops as well) as he does! Let's call me mildly suspicious ;)

3. Buddha baby! My niece Lexy, at about 8 months. She's 15 months now...

4. Here I am performing a very sexy sock-removal strip tease... RAWR!!!!

5. All my homies, at Graffiti's. The place has such a warm feel. Today I walked in off the street and offered to play for an hour and they said "Sure! Here's a microphone and the keys to the piano!" It was quite nice. There was one person there besides me and the bartender.

6. These are my friends, "Red Trackpants" a.k.a the Gagne Brothers (Mike and Randy) and Jonathan Jackson, playing on College Street. Coincidentally, we bumped into them in the middle of the street in the little tiny village in Costa Rica that we were staying in. I was like "hey, there's Spanish Randy! hehe" and then I was like, "wait a minute!!!???" Bumping into them was one of my favourite moments in C.R.

7. This is Duke. He has a dog named Guinness and his wife Judy just gave birth to two 15 POUND twin babies. Poor, poor soul. This photo is here because he is wearing a sweater made out of retired hockey socks. It is his "cottage sweater" and I love it.

8. This is an image from stuffonmycat.com

9. This is a picture of a man that I found when I googled "old man" in image search. I have named him Gilbert, and I think if I was 75 and living in a "retirement community" and he moved in next door, there might be some granny fights on our floor! I heart him, and he's mine, so BACK OFF Agnes!!!

10. This is me as a "Simpsons" character, clearly: broke, two crazy, mean old, cats...who else could it be? This was a gimmick from "The Simpsons Move" and I think had something to do with Burger King? I dunno...everyone else was doing it...

Not tired yet, but out of easy posts. See you next time!

the stacking kitties

2008-04-10T22:06:00.004-04:00

So I am about to start scanning in photos from my last 2 trips-- Whistler in October, and Costa Rica in March...I have only just had both rolls of film (yes, I know..rolls of what now?) developed, and am quite happy with a few of the shots.

In the meantime, here are a couple pictures of my cats. For those of you who don't know, they are twin sisters, and 14 years old, and they stopped enjoying each other's company about 9 years ago. If they were a married couple, they would be divorced and prowling the single's bars long ago (cougars, hahaha) (oooh, just had a mental image of that awesome scene from Team America: don't be afraid, my sheva sisters! Your captors are behind that glass...)

Anyhow, one is submissive and passive aggressive, and the other is butch and alpha. They regularly compete over who gets the lap when I am sitting on the couch. Rufus, the butch, usually wins. Freaky, the other one, has recently begun to fight back with a little move I like to call "the stacking kitties". She very casually jumps up onto the couch, and slowly climbs over Rufus and lays down pretty much on top of her. As if she "didn't notice" Rufus was sitting there already. She has done this a few times in the last few months, and I managed to catch them on film recently:

Pretty ballsy, Freaky. I'm impressed.

Note Rufus' extremely displeased expression. I'm surprised she allows it. but I guess that's the thing when you're alpha: you don't give up that lap under ANY condition!

SPRING'N!!!!

2008-03-19T23:32:00.003-04:00

Post-Easter egg hunt to-do, this Saturday. Be there, or be square. That's right, I said it.

We will be playing new songs from my upcoming CD "Heart Full Of Thumbs" with Dafydd Hughes (keys), Chris Banks(Bass), and Roger Travassos (drums). It's like jazz/pop, with a little grit. Rickie Lee Jones meets Death Cab....or something like that.

Hope you can make it, here's the flyer:

Is it too creepy? I was thinking of spring...

For The Cat Lover In You

2008-03-10T21:09:00.001-04:00

If you don't have cats, don't watch this video. You will not understand.

The best part is when it just looks at the open door....hahaha...typical...

Smitten!

2008-03-08T16:11:00.004-05:00

I am a moderate fan of the band Keane. I think they are pretty unique and I enjoy their tunes, but I LOVE the artwork on their second album "Under The Iron Sea". I finally got around to looking up the artist, and I was OVERWHELMED at how incredible she is! Her name is Sanna Annukka, she is from Finland. She did all the cover art for the singles from the album, too, and each of the accompanying booklets. I am going to post them so you can be as impressed as I:

Besides the Keane artwork, she also has other items online, and sells some of her prints and patterns. Here are a few samples:

Is it completely lame that I wrote her an email to tell her how wonderful she is? Just passing along the love, y'all!!!

This Sunday @ Slack's!

2008-03-04T20:16:00.003-05:00

Click on the flyer if you need it to be bigger.

Hope you can make it!
K

They Don't Make 'Em Like That No More

2008-02-29T17:50:00.007-05:00

So, heading into the home stretch of my upcoming CD (that has been "nearly done" for the last 3 years!) and am now about to begin designing the cover art. I have been surfing the net looking at classic examples of "good" album covers, which includes the usual: David Bowie, "Aladddin Sane"; Led Zeppelin "Houses of The Holy"; Pink Floyd "Dark Side of the Moon", etc. I look at these things to try to find examples of good graphic design, but also for inspiration in finding a title (I think I have settled on "Heart Full of Thumbs" --in reference to my clumsy, but heartfelt demeanor, and also a lyric from one of my songs)

Here are a few gems that never made any "best of" list. I think you'll find them as noteworthy, and inspiring as I did. I found them on this great little website called PopCult Mag.

Ok, so I am not so serious about a couple of them, but I do really love this one:

Love to hear it sometime...

Where to put this sadness?

2008-02-22T01:01:00.005-05:00

I am at a loss to describe how yesterday's fire on Queen West is making me feel...

We were driving home from the cottage, on the way to the Radiant Dark opening, blissfully unaware that the event had already been cancelled as the entire block was on FIRE...Made a chance phone call, whereupon Andrée hesitantly informed us about the fire, and then we quickly killed the ipod and turned to CBC. ...Disbelief followed, with a flurry of emotion-filled questions: My god, was anyone hurt?(no, but many without homes and jobs today) is the Burroughes building--a gorgeous and very old 6 story warehouse-- safe?(yes) Will there be smoke/water damage to the pieces in the show? (unbelievably no) What will Shawn and Julie do-- they have put so much effort into this show for the last few months?! (put on a brave face, carry on as best as possible, and collect donations for the fire victims) What will happen to this unique and iconic stretch of Queen Street? (too soon to say) Will some one swoop in and turn it into a mall or ugly condo? (entirely possible) Will the Radiant Dark show be cancelled completely? (no, it opened tonight instead)

As I walked down Queen today, on my way to help set up for the opening, I passed along the north side of the street, which is all fenced off as fire and demolition crews continue to clear away and extinguish smoldering debris. I passed at least 50 people, all standing looking worriedly into the devastation. Some with cameras, some without, and a few with that half-hidden, morbidly excited look people get when they come face to face with some one else's disaster. People came and went all day long. I would say hundreds of people came to the site today. I could see them from the 3rd floor window of the Burroughes building, where I spent my day.

I wondered if like me, they were wondering why they felt so grieved by the sudden loss of this stretch of our city. I can't really explain it--I do spend a lot of time in this area, but I live and work quite a few blocks in either direction. Yet, I do feel as though a vital part of the city-- my city-- has died. As Andrée put it: watching the news today, we recognize many of the people being interviewed about their homes and stores that are now gone. Literally. Therefore, their sadness is, in a way, our sadness.

I also had the strange notion today that if (god forbid) some one had died in this fire, we would know better what to do to cope with these feelings. We would bring flowers, set up makeshift memorials, write letters filled with wishes and memories and place them at the site of the tragedy. Basically, we would grieve.

But I don't really know how to grieve this fire.

image by JL1967 from www.torontoist.com

BE VERY CAREFUL when you make art!!!!

2008-02-15T21:05:00.000-05:00

This is my worst fear! Very, very strange.

Visual Procrastination

2008-02-14T15:32:00.007-05:00

In the city, it's easy to think that strangers have no time or care for one another...thinking about road rage, bystander apathy, people who bud the line in grocery stores...So it's easy to get jaded about human behaviour. But then something always happens that reminds me humans are actually wired for good and here is my one paragraph reason why:

I am working on two shows right now, both of which are loading in this weekend: Radiant Dark at the Burroughes Building and Come Up To My Room At The Gladstone. For both shows, I needed not only my designed piece, but images for various press kits and whatnot. My apartment is very dark, and I like to photograph pieces in context, so a little help was needed. So I asked around, and to my surprise, a variety of people came to my rescue, from great neighbours to complete strangers. Thanks to all of you: Cate, Ricky, Roger and Abby, for lending me your homes, faces and lapels.

I will post the deets of both shows in my next post.

Arctic Bookends:

Comfort Food: Maple Cookie Brooches:

On Ricky, Owner and proprietor of Shai's Cafe, in Kensington:

Roger, Owner and proprietor of Flashback and King of Kensington:

And Abby, Beautiful girl I see frequently in my hood, who was "grouchy" today, but still smiled for the camera:

Thanks again, you wonderful people!

And here's the french toast I ate for breakfast today. After two bites, my companion pointed out how very...appropriately shaped they were, given today's date.

Little Miss Everybody's Business

2008-02-04T01:23:00.000-05:00

I had a small but strange experience yesterday that I can't get out of my mind.

There's a man here in the market who I see almost everyday, who I have never actually met. He is usually doing something industrious, sweeping or shoveling sidewalks, delivering things from one place to another, and I get the feeling he is an "odd-jobber" who probably keeps himself off the street with these little jobs for the local merchants. He seems well liked; he is of average looks and has long, slightly messy hair usually pulled back in a ponytail. He's in his late 30s, and has round, pink cheeks, and the appearance of someone who might smoke, drink and party quite heavily, or who until fairly recently, gave his vices a lot of freedom.

For no good reason, I have these opinions of him, and for no good reason, I think he is probably someone I might like, if I knew him, though he might not like me. In some ways he reminds me of my dad and his buddies, who tend to be gruff and rather scary-looking dudes on the outside, with big, jello-pudding centers. They were the kinds of guys who got up to a whole lot of no-good in their younger years, but who have mellowed out and aged enough so as to no longer cause a single eyelash to bat at the customs counter when they drive across the border.....much to their disappointment.

Anyhow, yesterday I saw this familiar character staggering up Augusta, dragging a large snow shovel, shaking violently, moaning and obviously in distress. Everybody was looking at him, and I realized he was having some kind of seizure. Without thinking about it, I walked over to him and said "Hey, are you okay? Can I help you" and placed my mittened hand on his back to steady him. He looked (and felt) like he could topple over himself at any second onto the cold, hard concrete. Of it's own volition, my hand started rubbing big circles on his back, the way they would if I was comforting a friend who was upset or feeling sick. He immediately stopped shaking, and came out of his seizure. He mumbled "ya, I'm fine" and walked hastily away from me.

I was instantly appalled by my actions. I must have embarrassed him terribly. People who experience seizures often feel nothing stronger than embarrassment afterward, and I should have just watched him from a distance and only jumped in if he was in real danger. ....Or did I do the right thing? I am not sure how quickly I realized it was a seizure. For a split second, many other possibilities went through my brain too: he has just been hit by a car, got beat-up, is over-dosing.... All I wanted to do was stop him from falling over and cracking his teeth or skull.

I know my actions were pretty much involuntary... I don't know if I could have reacted in any other way. I don't know if I should have reacted in some other way. What do you think? Should I be training myself to ignore these kinds of situations? It's not the first time I have done something like that, gotten "involved"... As of yet I haven't been punched in the face for my obtrusions, but perhaps I've been lucky so far?

Bimbos Of The World...Rise!

2008-01-16T18:32:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I come across little things that I find very funny, and even though I know nobody else is likely to find it as funny, I feel the need to pass them along:

I was riding my bike down Queen St, and turned South onto Portland, on my way to the studio. A car pulled up beside me at the Richmond light, wanting to turn right. Since I was in the curb lane (the pathetic, dangerous, slush-filled excuse for a bike lane), he was unable to turn right during the red light, and had to wait 'til it turned green. The light finally changed, and as I rolled past him, he opened his window and yelled "STUPID BIMBO!" which caught me off guard, and then made me laugh hysterically. Such an antiquated and ridiculous insult! Bimbo! Who calls someone a bimbo? And it wasn't even my fault! I wasn't doing anything dumb, I certainly don't look like a bimbo (maybe I'm chauvinist, but the word bimbo calls to mind a pretty blond with big boobs and vacant eyes).

Anyhow, then I started thinking about what he had said, and got angry. The word bimbo is one of those words like slut, twat, cunt, bitch or whore, which are specifically designed to be aimed at women. So basically, it not only implies that I have done something worthy of raising his ire, it also implies that I am somehow inferior for possessing a vagina. Nice.

And then I started thinking about my own chauvinistic certainty, that I, a small framed, plain looking brunette, couldn't possibly ever come across a bimbo. As if, somehow, for not possessing beauty, boobs and blond hair (the "triple B"), I am elevated above bimbo status. Amazing things the mind and the ego cook up together. Since I will never be a triple B, I have somehow smeared their gifts with ridicule, so I could look down on them and their shiny, ditsy perfection. Nice.

When I got home, I Google image searched the word bimbo, just out of curiousity. Here's what came up (you must click on the picture for detail--it's worth it):

How random is THAT collection of images??? Anyhow, by the time I finished laughing, and wiping the tears from my eyes, the whole event-- the insult, my anger and then self-doubt-- well, it all seemed really ...silly. So I guess no matter what you look like or what pair of chromosomes you possess, bimbo is a state of mind, and we can all get there, sometimes.

Hi Mom

2008-01-14T18:25:00.000-05:00

This post is for my mom, who has been (unintentionally) boycotting hotmail, and now finds herself unable to log in and get her email, but who still likes to receive updates on the whereabouts/whatabouts of her youngest daughter.

(me)

But first, an aside: my mantoy donated his iMac to my folks at Christmas, as he has recently bought himself a new laptop. An incredibly generous gesture, by the way, I was (and they were) very moved. So I have been showing my dad how to set up itunes, and his new ipod nano, and a few other things on this "new" (4 year old) computer. It's funny, they have been Mac users for years because they keep inheriting our old computers, which are always Macs, but their previous laptop (my first mac) was going on 9 years old, so the learning curve is fairly steep. Now I keep getting these calls, which I love, where I have to walk him through various actions on the computer. I find myself saying things like "okay, now you're gonna wanna go ahead and open up the blah blah blah on your desktop" reverting into stereotypical, technical support call-centre speak, as I am oh-so unfortunately familiar with.

It is amusing me how easy it is to get frustrated when trying to describe simple tasks without being able to physically show the person what you want them to do. It's a bit like speaking a foreign language, one you are very rusty with. You have to search hard for the words, and you are limited to the most simple, commonly understood phrases. It's exhausting! Nonetheless, I am really enjoying it, and this computer thing is a something that me and him can bond over-- which hasn't happened very often.

I will also say that I have a whole new appreciation for those faceless strangers (who seem to always be named Andrew?) who help me with technical issues from Oregon, or Panama, or wherever it is that they do that stuff when you call Mac, or Bell, or d-link or whoever...Way to go ahead and go, you techno-geeks.

xo
K

Hi Mom

I thought you'd be interested in seeing this: I forgot to tell you about it today on the phone. It's a poster i was commissioned to design for a theatre production for a theatre company in T.O. Mike is doing their technical direction, and he recommended me to the producers for the graphic design, and this is what I came up with. It was hard-- they wanted me to use these stills shots from a workshop they had videotaped a few months before and I was stumped....like seriously stumped. I tried for HOURS to make them work, but it just looked cheap, low budget, amateurish....I was not up to the task, I guess. So then I tried to illustrate the stills, and sent them the first attempt (which I will also attach, for your amusement) but they hated it. I was pissed at the time (but not really, I kinda knew it wasn't right) The final version (the cassette tape) they loved, thankfully! I enjoyed the process of finding the right thing,very much.

The play is about this woman who is single, 40, living in a basement apartment, listening to self-help tapes one morning at breakfast. She is obviously a little looney, and eventually the tape starts to talk to her, as do some of the appliances in her kitchen...It is a dark comedy, in the vein of Lynch or Polanski, and it ends sort of with the, "well you're still crazy today, but you can start trying again tomorrow morning". I quite liked the script, and hope to get to see the show in the spring, when it's up.

So here are the posters: lemme know what you think.

love ya,

K

Early sketch, from still:

Crappy Still, superimposed over blank tv screen (didn't work!!!):

ok, clearly time for some inspiration:

First Final Version (voted down):

Final Version (hooray!):

Phew! Graphic design is HARD!

New Year's Eve MADNESS!

2008-01-03T14:36:00.000-05:00

Actually, it was one of the most mellow New Years Eve's I can remember. Must be getting old-- we barely made it 'til midnight!!!

The day began with a lot of cooking! My New Year's resolution for 2007 was to cook more, so I had less than 12 hours to follow through (haha, just kidding...)

I made baked spaghetti with lavender (that's right, lavender....i may have thought it was rosemary when i put it in...shhhhh!) and it was pretty good. A bit dry, but isn't it always? And I made parsnip and onion fritters which I deep fried (with Mike's help-- gosh that boy can cook) and they were so good. We downed about 4 before we even left for the party. Deep frying is my new favourite method of cooking, which I have a feeling could be troublesome. I was eyeing some potatoes in my cupboard today thinking: deepfry???

I had fun peeling the parsnips (which is definitely the cutest of the vegetables, as evidenced by the following photo):

Like a teeny little parsnip sentry. Or perhaps a little elf village.

The rest of the shots are from the Maiwenn and Lucas' place, where we had a wonderful potluck celebration.

Happy New Year Everyone!!!

I'm not PURE evil...

2007-12-28T13:50:00.000-05:00

...I followed my own rules and I did have a few memorable moments over Christmas. God you guys, I'm not completely incapable of enjoying family moments...!!! :)

Here are some of my favourites:

The big thing in my family is, of course, the Christmas Cracker, which is apparently a Canadian/UK thing, which I never really realized until I was living in the U.S. and couldn't find them at all.

Me: No, I'm looking for Christmas crackers....? Target Employee: All we have are these here... Me: Um, thanks anyways...

A Christmas Cracker is a tube of cardboard containing a little cheap prize, a bad joke and a brightly coloured paper crown. Not sure what the allure is, but they ARE wrapped in festive paper, which makes them look vaguely like large, old fashioned candy bon-bons. You and a partner grab each end and pull, and there is this magic strip of carbord inside it that makes a loud BANG! like a firecracker. No idea what purpose or tradition they serve, but they are always fun, and they have always just been in my family.

I have started what I believe will and ought to become the new family Christmas tradition: The Cracker Crown Portrait. I urge you to collect some of your own. It's hard though, most people won't let you take a picture of them in the silly paper crowns..

Celebrate Winter, not Elves

2007-12-22T04:23:00.000-05:00

So, I think I have finally figured how to not to hate the way Christmas makes me hate Christmas. For the first time in years, I have almost been actually looking forward to this year's festivities. So, I will share (with you all you fellow potential Grinchies) the things I think are helping me get over the urge to punch people in the mouth who are a little too "merry" this time of year.

Katherine's List of Anti-Christmas Prevention techniques:

1. Don't listen to the radio or watch tv. There is plenty of commercial/carol free music and television available on the internet. There's just NO NEED.

2. Don't go to the mall. If you must, go in very small doses. One hour here, one hour there. S-P-R-E-A-D it out!

2.5. Don't work retail. Nuff said.

3. Sell your car/Buy excellent winter gear. These two items go together. Walking in the snow and slush is fun when you are prepared for it. Driving in it is never fun.

4. Volunteer at some kind of mission/food bank/charity/hospital/kids thing--anywhere. You will not leave without feeling more full of love/goodness than you were when you walked in.

5. Find some kind of child, or dog, or something to drag around in the snow and play. Usually it's best if you have permission from the person it belongs to.

6. Don't--under any circumstances--go to the Santa Claus parade. You will leave hating not only Christmas, but children, strollers, Santa Hats, small dogs, coffee cups, traffic, walking, and anything shiny.

7. Don't spend a ton of money on presents. A $30 gift can say as much as a $100 one, and you'll feel better when you look back and tally up in January. Oh yes, and HAND-MAKE as many gifts as you can, if you are of the crafty persuasion. If not, attend one of Toronto's many craft shows, art/design galleries and get your wallet out. And if your friends complain and/or call you cheap either a) you did a shitty job picking out their $30 present or b) they are materialistic assholes.

8. Don't bother putting up Christmas decorations, unless you really want to. And don't let anyone pressure you into it, either! A few years off might do you some good. I actually thought about putting my little fake tree up this year. Next year I might actually see if I still own it. The year after that,who KNOWS what craziness might ensue!

9. Be sure to eat a nice meal or drink some wine/eggnog/tea/whatever with people you love on either Christmas eve or Christmas day. There is no rule that says you have to bring presents or roast a turkey, but it is a nice excuse to go visiting or have folks in. And if you are a loner, rent a nice movie, or go skating or something ...irregular, and slightly special.

10. Heal your relationships, so family gatherings aren't so goddam painful. Figure out what it takes, bite the bullet and just DO it! Life is too short to hold grudges.
You don't have to marry the person, but come to a civil, calm place, as adults. Humans are designed for love...look deep-- it's in there somewhere!

11. If you have money/time, go somewhere cool. And by cool I mean interesting, foreign, new, old--wherever. Just get away. Even the cottage will do. Actually, the cottage, or someone else's cottage is an AWESOME winter destination, even if you are not inclined to outdoor winter sports.

So there you go. This is a pretty good starter list, I think. But if all this fails, and you are STILL nauseated at the sight of elves, the sound of jingling bells, and the spirit of commercialism, I mean, Christmas, there is one last, simple thing. You don't have to celebrate Christmas. No matter what your faith, or preference, this is a very beautiful and special time of year (I write this on the eve of the Winter solstice, from Kensington Market, where a thousand people came to celebrate the Festival of Lights in Pagan style...so I may be biased, but...). Instead of celebrating Christmas, why not celebrate winter? Focus on the snowflakes and the patterns the bare tree branches make against the grey sky. Celebrate the tracks in the snow, warm woolen mittens, and kids sticking their tongues to metal poles.

It's working for me!!!

JOE & JOSEPHINE @ MADE (the ironic glamour shots)

2007-12-21T03:19:00.001-05:00

from Torontostreetfashion.com

See a review of our show on BlogTO...click here

JOE & JOSPEHINE @ MADE (Here are the rest of the "beauty" shots....)

2007-12-21T02:42:00.000-05:00

The lighting wasn't the best for photo-taking, but it looked very warm and soft, which was nice. Also, I still haven't really figured out that fancy camera yet...I want to take a course, but where?? And with what free time????

JOE & JOSEPHINE @ MADE The Opening

2007-12-14T18:30:00.000-05:00

I Can't Believe Nothing Got Broken!

Here's a few snapshots from last night. Thanks to all who stopped by-- it was JAMMED! I didn't get a chance to photo everything in it's completion yet, but I will post more pics of the actual work soon....

Sigh, I spent the day on the couch, recovering. Not from the booze, I was too tired to drink. More from giddyness and excitement. I had a really good time...so many friendly familiar faces! Hope everyone felt it was worth the trip through the fading snow storm to come see us...

If you missed it, the installation will be up til feb 2nd, so please check it out.
xo
k

Squirrels, Walls and Napoleon Complexes

2007-12-11T02:01:00.000-05:00

I have been neglecting this blog, I will admit. But I haven't grown tired of it; I just got a bit addicted to internet tv for a while. I think I am okay now (in other words: the feds took down my favourite site a few months ago) and I am glad to be back at it, pouring my secrets out into the internet.

No juicy ones today, but I wanted to post some of the pictures I took got during the shoot for that jacket cover design that I did for my friend Colman's book "The Camp" (that I posted a few days ago). Nice grammar. Sorry, I'm tired. I was looking for buildings and structures in this city that looked scary or desolate or institutional somehow, and found myself being captivated, and horrified (sometimes at the same time!) by some of the things I found once I started looking....

Aside: Why are squirrels so cute? Is it because they're so tiny and they think they are so badass, and we can picture them trying in vain to take over the world, saying things with little silly squirrel accents like "yezssszzzzz, I am zee biggest, so much taller zan you, mere human now watch me walk across this powerline and bow to my nimbleness ahahahaha!!!!!" My ex-boyfriend hated squirrels. He would wait, motionless in his backyard with his garden hose at the ready, and then shoot the poor little things when they would hop into his range of fire. He was mean. Oh, for some unbelievable squirrel controversy: click here:

This one is from the Berlin Wall, on the East side of the original border of Berlin:

This one is from the inside of my neighbour Nick's house-- a complete stranger who let me shoot from his window because I liked the way the house looked from the outside. It was going to be used in the invite to our show (previous post) and was sort of the catalyst for the whole concept of "The Camp" along with the next window, which belongs to my friend Seth Scriver. We chose Sabrina's window instead.

Joe & Josephine @ MADE! Dec 13th

2007-12-04T01:13:00.000-05:00

Joe & Josephine is our brand new design collective! We are having our debut show at MADE next Thursday and I am so excited! Here is everything you need to know about us and our show:

Joe&Josephine

A collective.
Art. Design. Craft.
A little bit of everything.

About Us

Joe and Josephine is a design collective that brings seven diverse backgrounds together in a unique, multi-disciplinary space. We are united by our desire for meaningful design, the kind that considers human beings and their complex relationships with objects. We reject disposability in design; we strive for the exact opposite.

Our studio is the heart of Joe & Josephine. It is a place to bring our daily experiences and put them to work. Jewellery, ceramics, fibre and industrial design meet here everyday to converse, combat and cross-pollinate. Our studio space allows us to teach, learn, inspire and collaborate with one another: it demands these things, and rewards us when we comply.

We took our name from Henry Dreyfuss, who spent years studying the measurements and limits of the human body. He created “Joe and Josephine,” two fictional characters embodying the physical and psychological characteristics of every man and woman. We share their name as we share Dreyfuss’ goal to “fill the gaps between human behaviour and design.”

"(Joe and Josephine) remind us that everything we design is used by people".
-Henry Dreyfuss

About Our Show: Joe & Josephine at MADE
December 13, 2007 to Feb 2. 2008

The size and intimacy of the MADE Cooler inspired us to consider the small, and sometimes overlooked areas of our homes, where we believe one can find the most personal and meaningful objects.

Over time, we accumulate many things; some we keep, some we don’t and some stay with us forever. In the corner of a drawer, on the bedside table, or collecting dust on the ledge above the stove; no matter whether we toss it carelessly or place it tenderly, our “things” reveal much about who we are. They contain our memories, histories, emotions and wishes. They tell our secrets while sitting silently.

If you want to get to know someone, show them the corners of your rooms. Show them the dust covered items you have nearly forgotten—for each of your cluttered windowsills is a tiny, personal gallery, of which you are both subject and unwitting curator.

About The Designers

Caroline Arsenault

Born in Toronto, Caroline Arsenault studied at the Ontario College of Art and Design, where she received her Bachelor of Design degree in 2006. Since graduating she has worked professionally in various projects and assignments, putting to use her creative ability and experience in the design of furniture and housewares, interiors and landscapes, as well as print and graphics. A multidisciplinary designer, Caroline is interested in both modern design techniques and the art of craft. The diversity in her work is evidence of her love and curiosity for all mediums and processes.

Andrea Cormier

Andrea Cormier is a freelance designer, illustrator and animator currently working in Toronto, Canada. A graduate of the Biomedical Communications program at the University of Toronto, most of her work focuses on topics that relate to the field of medical and scientific communication and creating effective learning strategies through visual and interactive media.

In addition to working on projects for the pharmaceutical industry, health care and educational institutions Andrea welcomes all types of creative work including web design, poster illustration and textile projects.

Jessica Johnston

Jessica Johnston was born, raised and schooled in Toronto. In her third year of Industrial Design at OCAD, Jessica began to take an interest in the possibilities that could arise from crossing disciplines. After some investigation of craft and tradesmanship, she fulfilled her curiosity by taking a year of ceramics studio courses after completing her Bachelor of Design.

Jessica sees her background in Industrial Design as a broad base from which the exploration of many materials is made possible and hopes this will lead her in unexpected places.

Kristen Lim-Tung

Born in Cornwall, Ontario, Kristen is currently completing her studies in Industrial Design at OCAD. She has participated in projects with FrogPond and The Souvenir Shop at "Come Up To My Room, 2007". She is interested in material exploration, craft and cross-disciplinary studies. She is curious and is always looking to learn, expand and develop her love for design.

Heather McGaw

Heather McGaw is a designer living and working in Toronto. In 2007 she graduated with a Bachelor of Design from the Ontario College of Art and Design. Since graduating Heather has worked on projects with various design groups focused on humanitarian issues such as learning and sustainable building, and has also worked professionally on graphic design for web and print, photography and small batch design. She is interested in projects with social-cultural relevance with a focus on our relationships with the objects and environments we interact with and live in. Her practice is currently focused on ceramics and fibre.

Katherine Morley

Katherine is a self-confessed latecomer to design, having spent her formative years as a professional singer/songwriter and DJ. However, she has wasted little time finding ground in her newly chosen field of Industrial Design: exhibiting, winning academic awards and graduating with her Bachelor of Design in 2007. Her practice currently favours moldmaking and slip-casting, but she has also studied design for business applications and published articles on sustainable design solutions. Katherine’s work has been featured in Cabin/Cabane, CUTMR, and will be part of The U of T Art Centre’s Inspired by Nature Show in 2008.

Andrée Wejsmann

Andrée Wejsmann is a graduate of the University of Toronto and the Ontario College of Art and Design. She has exhibited nationally and internationally and is the recipient of numerous awards and scholarships. Her work explores the relativity of objects in their environment, often using narrative as a tool to investigate the construction of meaning, and the permeability of signifiers.

Andrée currently lives and makes work in Toronto, and teaches at the Ontario College of Art and Design.

Hope you can make it!

Fun With One's Index Finger

2007-11-27T02:38:00.001-05:00

My friend Colman has compiled a book called The Camp, which is a collection of essays on prison camps...everything from historical accounts of Auschwitz to debates about the modern camps like Guantanamo, or the illegal alien camps at the International Airports--(yes, even Pearson)... I haven't read it yet, but from the excerpts he sent me, it seems to challenge everything I thought I knew..or rather, reminded me that the little I thought I knew, was remarkably antiquated and ill-informed.

Anyhow, he asked me to design the book jacket, which needed to be completed rather quickly (uh, 6 days!) this is what I came up with:

I used pictures that I had taken last summer in Europe, and some from the Carribbean, and many from Toronto, and made the background collage. My favourite part is the blue figure on the spine, which came from the Berlin wall. It reads Die Welt In Arm, which means "The Poor World" I think...or maybe The World Is Poor" I dunno...any one want to give me a better translation?

I wish I had had a bit more time, because now I am not sure about many of the design decisions...but whatever! That's what happens...

More soon...K

THIS SUNDAY AT SLACK'S! ONE TIME ONLY!!!

2007-11-19T23:28:00.001-05:00

Come see an amazing lineup: Christine Bougie, Paul Mathew and me, Katey Morley. We will each play a set with drummer extraordinaire Tim Shia and then back each other up any way we can. A charming triple threat afternoon, spent at a deliciously competent restaurant-- so bring your appetites (and maybe some money, so you don't spend the rest of the night washing dishes) and support Toronto's live music scene! Just like your your Grandma said you should.

But wait, there's more:

...information....

Sunday Nov. 25, 5-8 pm, Slack's Restaurant 562 Church Street @ Wellesley

See you there?

xo

Just adding a few more...

2007-11-09T12:47:00.000-05:00

from Bryan's camera

Vancouver Hallowe'en Kicked Toronto's Lame-o-ween

2007-11-06T23:27:00.000-05:00

I had the good fortune to be in Vancouver this year on the eve of the Lost Souls Parade, on the saturday before Hallowe'en. There was a huge parade down Commercial Drive, which was closed off, with music and dancing and thousands-- and I mean THOUSANDS --of people totally decked out in ridiculously amazing costumes. It was a but like Pride, but with less nudity and more earth tones... and lots hetero couples with matching costumes (I saw about two dozen too many "witch with her warlock" gimmicks-- but this is my only criticism of the evening). Toronto needs to get their shit together and plan one of these for next year. Seriously! We don't do anything like this do we? We must be too cool....

First a few words about my friend Nelson: he is friggin' hilarious, if you can't tell by this picture of him dressed as Andy Kaufman doing Tony Clifton.

Nelly is one of those guys who takes life to the max, and therefore, Hallowe'en costumes to the max. He wasn't just doing the costume. He WAS Tony Clifton for the evening. Unfortunately, so was this guy:

although his costume kind of sucked. He did give us a line I will forever cherish though: "Hey you two, let's skip the main course and go straight to the manage a trois." heh.

This is us trying to find a parking spot for the parade. So the photos are a bit out of order, I--FUCK YOU BOBBY! Sorry...can you tell who I was yet? No, okay wait for a few more frames...

My favourite thing about Hallowe'en in Vancouver was how into their costumes the people got. Oh, and btw, I have changed my mind. The other Tony Clifton's costume didn't suck, I am sorry I said that. It was mean and regret it. Nobody who actually puts effort into a costume sucks on Hallowe'en.

Except maybe this guy:

This guy totally rules:

And so does the evil angel standing behind him, a little bit.

Is this, or is this not Kid Rock, disguised as Beeker?

Here's me again...did you figure it out?

I'll give you a clue:

NO? Ok, how bout this:

That's actually a picture of me, as Mz. Whitney Houston, last year at the MTV awards. I had a bigger costume budget that year. So this year I was relegated to the post "The Bodyguard" pre "gave up the pipe" Whitney. Am I terribly evil? It could be the most politically incorrect costume you've ever seen, I know. Don't blame me, blame the dress. It decided what it wanted to be.

Let's take a look at it again:

What the hell is that thing I am hugging???!?!!

I pretty much spent the evening sniffing imaginary cocaine off of these:

And let me tell you-- I don't know how those girls do that 3 inch nail thing. Those little fuckers HURT! p.s. don't try prying them off with your teeth. Not a good idea.

This woman wins the "Creepiest Costume" award, for sure:

This guy wins the "Creepy In Real Life, Guy With A Pillow On His Head Which May Not ACTUALLY be a Hallowe'en Costume While Dancing and Clapping Along With The Marching Band" prize.

This guy is the clear winner for "Best Prize of the Entire Night":

He would pick up his costume, walk around, find a group of people, set it down, and whip a bottle of tequila out from a holster on his belt. For $2 you could actually take a shot. Looks like Whitney's had a few...!

These two are the runners up. She had her dad, who is an Optometrist or something, send those contact lenses for her hubby, Marilyn.

Ok, here's where the evening starts to get a bit hazy. I remember yelling: "I"LL WRESTLE YOU! at the Nacho Libre guy (who clearly had no problem taking down a drunk girl in a sequined ball gown and spray painted up-do)(eeeeeew, so tough, Mr. tough guy Nacho Libre!)

...Not so sure what prompted the Amazon Goddess Gorgeous Babe to get involved, but I am pretty sure I was cat calling her, and shouting something like "Come down here! I'll wrestle YOU!" and she was like "BRING IT, SHRIMPY!!!"

Clearly, I was outmatched, but it sure looks like it was fun.

Good thing my dear friend Bryan (dressed as Flava Flav-- we spent all afternoon looking for just the right clock to spray paint gold) was there to take lots of photos of the moment, so I could, sighhhhh, proudly present this moment to you. Sorry mom.

I hated myself for liking this guy's costume:

Who needs commercialism on Hallowe'en? We get enough of that on Christmas...

But at least he did "The Worm."

Blogging is for Dandies

2007-09-27T16:16:00.000-04:00

Have wars been fought over coffee? I'm sure they have. I think I would rather fight for coffee, over diamonds or oil, or religion for that matter. I don't think I love anything as much as that last sip-- brown sugar dripping painfully slowly down the side of the mug. Waiting for it to hit your tongue is like waiting for a kiss. I know, I'm a loser.

I wish I could marry coffee. If coffee was a person, it would be tall and slim, loyal but not whipped, sarcastic and sensitive, sexy and funny enough to make you choke on your beverage every now and then. Go on, argue with me. You know it's true.

Overheard at Ideal coffee on Nassau the other day:

"GO AHEAD TOYOTA! GO AHEAD NISSAN!!!!" -Angry driver who proceeded to back all the way down the street, honking furiously.

"It's like a coffee bong" - Customer, in reference to the great cloud of smoke, billowing out from the coffee grinder inside Ideal.

"Lady" (the Kenny Rogers song)- as a merengue, and quite a catchy version, may I add.

a new gebinning

2007-09-08T04:25:00.000-04:00

So welcome to the new regime. I totally stole the page source for this new template from my friend Paul. Thanks Paul.

Today I had coffee and a bagel in my new secondary hood, Roncie Village, where the boy has chosen to move. I am sure to be writing and posting lots of photos from that area soon, but for now, let me say "Alternative Grounds" fair-trade coffee house almost whups Ideal's ass. Not quite, but almost.

I have decided to put some of my thousands of pictures of Toronto to use. I am going to post one per week, little artfully selected bits of photos, and see if you can guess where/what they are. Yes, I read National Geographic for kids. So sue me.

Here, we'll start with an easy one:

Do you know what this is?

renovations

2007-09-07T20:40:00.000-04:00

Excuse the weird images...I am trying to change the template of this blog...stay tuned!

2007-09-07T02:13:00.000-04:00

the money shot

2007-08-27T13:17:00.000-04:00

I spend too much time on my computer. This is a collection of images I've stumbled across in the last few months that amused, confused or amazed me, so I saved them.

1. This image file is called "Gilbert". I can't remember if I called it that or if it was so called when I found it. I know that I googled "old man" and there he was, peering asymmetrically out from between the old man/teen girl porno shots. Why is it that no matter what you type into google, you come up with hardcore porn? I once typed in "cartoon muscle" hoping to find a picture of Popeye the Sailor Man...and well, you can imagine the results! Anyhow, this is Gilbert, and I instantly fell in love with his lonely, yet handsome face and dapper moustache. He reminds me of my grandpa in some ways, with his curly, side-parted hair. Don't you just HAVE to know who he is and why his picture is on the internet???? Do you think it could be his Lava Life profile picture? Or maybe a security pictiure for his laminated nametag at work, that, through some glitch somehow spun onto the internet accidentally? Sigh...I hate that we'll never know. Goodbye Gilbert...I wish I could have told you to avoid a beige background-- not with that shirt.

p.s I also loved "Gilbert" from Anne of Green Gables as a child...he was so dreamy...

2. So one day, this banner ad for "pools" appears at the top of the CBC newsite, and all I can think about, instead of getting a pool, is "why oh why are that person's toes so weird!???! And why would any one ever use them in an ad??????" Do you think the toe-model is intentionally trying to make a peace sign, or, did the photo director just keep saying "okay, yes, yes, your feet are so beautiful. Now stre-e-e-e-etch out those toes for me baby. Just a little bit more, c'mon, Stre-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e--e-eetch them out, yeah, there you go baby! That's it, that's the money shot.... now HOLD IT..." !!!!!

3. Here is a contest I won. I have won £400,000 and a trip to the London Olympics in 2012! You can imagine how excited I was when I received this very official looking notification, via email. ....I love the British. Even their internet scam artists are polite and articulate. You have to click on it to get the full impact. Now if only they were as good with their graphic design!

4. Last but not least, I forget where I saw this, but the tag-line of the dating service just struck me as funny: Search, Chat and Marry!

I laughed, but then got to thinking about the incredible cultural differences this ad outlines. Compare it to the western dating ads I bump into online everyday, like this one:

That is not from a porn site, may I add. That's from an internet tv site called Peekvid. Kinda scary, on its own, in what it says about our dating culture, and well, our culture in general. But even scarier, considering Peekvid, like most of the internet, is crawling with curious children. I know what I've seen in my internet meanderings, I can't even imagine what my 11 year old god-daughter has seen. I'm going offline now, in protest...let's see how long I can hold out!

The Magic Window

2007-08-25T03:15:00.000-04:00

It was around February, and very cold outside, and I actually wasn't planning on going to Allan Gardens the day I took these. I was on my way somewhere else (I forget where), and only stopped off to warm up inside the greenhouse, because my hands were numb. It was very warm inside, and the lens of my camera immediately fogged up, and, well, here are the results. I particularly enjoy the transition back to a clear lens....

If you haven't been to the corner of Sherbourne and Carlton, put it on your list of things to do on a cold day next winter. I think it's Toronto's oldest greenhouse. Mid-1800s or so, and beats the crap out of internet t.v.

Visual Stimulation

2007-08-23T13:59:00.001-04:00

Ok, so it's been for-fucking EVER since I've written anything juicy. I apologize. And I realize I didn't need to swear to get the point across, but you are over it already, I am sure, because let's face it-- there are worse things going on in the world. In fact, I am having a minor ethical crises almost everyday, these days. Aren't you? Do I give that homeless lady-- the one with no body fat or teeth who always has a really long, genuinely heart-breaking story to tell you every time-- money or not? I know she's just going to use it for drugs. I have actually seen her make an order, yelling out to some guy who must have been on his way to see the dealer. She wanted 5 dollars worth. I wonder how much that gets you... And what do I think about the HPV/cervical cancer vaccine and the possibility of it being made mandatory? Would I get it? Would I want my niece to be forced to get it? Or what of the SPP? Or the Stop the SPP protest? And should I put my 14 year old cat to sleep because she's pissing on everything, everyday, no matter what I try? Fuck. There, I said it again. But really, it was justifiable.

So, for the last 8 months or so, I have been quietly taking pictures and storing them away in a file on my desktop called "To Blog" like it's full of important, life-altering information. It certainly isn't, but I tell ya, as I am writing this, I am remembering how good it feels to blog-- nerdiness be damned. It feels really good to have a place to think out loud, and not worry about grammar, plot, fact-checking etc. It is completely self-indulgent, and yet at the same time, feels like a teeny little accomplishment, in the same vein, I guess, as writing a song. No one's going to read it, but someone might. And someone might leave the post smiling, or pondering, or at best, feeling more...full? than they did a second ago. Sometimes people write in, and that is best of all.

I am going to start emptying out that file into this blog, hopefully regularly over the next few days. So, here you go, you crazy kids I photographed in Kensington in, like February (you know who you are). I love these pictures of you. And I love you for your crazy, self-conscious, quirkiness; striving for, and somehow actually hitting interesting/unique. Thanks for your bugging me to post these. I hope you enjoy them. feel free to grab a copy for yourselves.

These next few were taken in Kensington, on and around the Winter Solstice. I love it here so much,though, looking through these photos, I have realized it does kind of look like a theatre or movie set. Completely over saturated with colour, and un-reality. Maybe that's why I love it so much, but perhaps it's contributing to my fairy-tale outlook of life. Which is either a really good, or a really bad way to live.

This was written on a doorway on Spadina. It seemed odd; it caught my eye. ...But she seems like such a sweet girl!

This one is not in Kensington, it is right beside St. Mike's hospital. Another brake-squealer!I almost crashed into myself stopping to back up and get this shot, on my motorcycle. Thankfully, I remained upright and got the shot.

You need to know, that Electric Blue is this year's Sea Foam. You read it here first.

The rest are random shots in and around Kensington. Except the last one. That's special, just for you.

Graffiti's This Friday!

2007-07-04T16:59:00.000-04:00

Please come see me play with my allstar band of Daffydd Hughes, Paul Mathew and Kieran Adams. It is going to be a great evening-- not a moment of boredom!

We start at around 9:30ish, and play till 11ish. The address of Graffiti's is 170 baldwin Street, in Kensington Market. Hope to see you there!

xoxox

K

The Summer is Magic

2007-06-17T20:35:00.000-04:00

It was 1995. It was a hot, sticky summer, the first of many progressively and unnaturally hot Canadian summers, the kind which we have now become rather passively acceptant of. I was just beginning my love/hate affair with spinning music for drunk people for money, to complement and supplement my singing in public addiction. "Eurodance" was all the rage, Pearl Jam had peaked and clubbing no longer included listening to live musicians perform with instruments. The DJ was king. Or queen, in my case.

I blame Eurodance for the ruination of quite a few good common phrases, which have now been indelibly combined with a bad melody in our consciousness: What is love? Please don't go! I like it like that. The summer is magic. Shit. The summer IS magic! Don't make me hum it. Too late, it's already bouncing around my head. Magic, it's magic, uh-oh-oh. The summer is magic. Sigh...Terrible songs, one and all.

People always ask me how is it possible that I can place any word or phrase into song, instantaneously (which, from what I gather, is fairly annoying to those around me). It's not my fault! It's because everything has been written into a song! EVERYTHING! Someone says: "How do I...?" I hear "get through one night without you..." Someone says "I love you" I hear "hums the April breeze". Someone says "Ring the alarm" I hear "another sound is dying, whoa". It goes on and on (my cypher keeps moving like a rolling stone). It's very distracting.

But what I really wanted to write about tonight is how this city, especially in the summer, is an amazing place. I have been rather sad lately, a combined effect of my recent graduation, uncertain future, PMS, low funds and the pending one year anniversary of the death of one of my oldest, best friends. I tend towards walking aimlessly when these depressions hit, and today I put on my green flip flops, as little clothing as possible without looking like an off-duty hooker (it was a steamer today!), and wandered through Kensington and down Bathurst. Not far along, I heard the distant sound of drums, which always sound compelling to me, and strangely, not out of context in this city. I suppose it is because of where I live; Market drummers do their thing all day, everyday here, and unless I have a headache or thinking-work to do, I usually welcome it. Must be my African roots. Or maybe it's just an ancient human instinct. Anyhow, I headed towards the heart of the drumming, which was coming from a park which looked to be filled with people, possible having a barbeque, definitely have a good, old-fashioned jump-up. As I closed in, I was delighted to see young, old, black, white, brown, yellow, cool, nerdy, rhythmically challenged and professional musicians all joined together in celebration (of what, I did not discover). There were hippy chicks modern dancing with purses swung over their shoulders, babies two-stepping with strangers, Asian guys with strange gourd-like instruments, potheads with djembes, happenstancing young urban professionals swaying their uptight hips, locals with wine in Nalgene containers laughing and jiving with each other-- one and all dancing uninhibitedly to the sounds of the Samba Squad, a local Batucada group, who seem to be present at every outdoor event in Toronto-- large or small-- and who I adore.

It was beautiful. If I looked right, there were kids jumping around in the play ground, eating sand and falling off slides; to the left, families sharing picnics at tables with red-checked plastic table cloths; further left, a skater park, full of shirtless teens, scraping their knees and pretending not to notice the party in the park with typical and comforting teenage nonchalance.

I stood there for a while, taking pictures with my cell phone and tapping my feet, wishing I had the courage to drop my purse and wiggle out into their midst, dancing like I didn't care what. Instead I stood off to the side, with the other chickens and mere appreciators trying to quell the teardrops that sprung up behind my conveniently oversized, 5 dollar Market sunglasses. It's okay. Next time I will dance. Today, it was just what I needed.

NOT DEAD, JUST A BACHELOR

2007-06-06T12:25:00.000-04:00

So sorry for the lengthy delay in getting back to blogging! The 3 people who actually read this blog are getting impatient and possibly a bit irate, so to you, Mom, Mike and Cate, here I go:

First of all, if you aren't busy tonight, stop by The Gladstone Hotel (Queen and Gladstone, just west of Dufferin) for my very first "reading" as a "published author"! I use quotations because I am still in shock, not because I am kidding. No seriously, it's a real book! Like, in stores and everything!

Tonight we are launching Shift:Positions, the debut publication of OCAD Student Press. Shift:Positions is a collection of 14 essays centering around design, and featuring a forward by Ed Burtynsky. Yes, THAT Ed Burtynsky, and he will be on-site to do a reading as well!!!

The event begins at 6:30pm, costs $5 to get in, which you can put toward the purchase of the book, and at around 7:30 I will be reading from my essay, The Toronto Taxicab Industry: Past, Present, Future.

I hope you can make it! This is a first for me and I will be comically nervous and excited, no doubt!

Second of all, I am FINALLY alumni!!! I have officially graduated school, and am the proud new owner of a Bachelor of Design. This should get me REAL far in life! :) As my father said, when I told him: "so, are you gonna get a job now?" What? being finished school means you have to get a job? That doesn't seem fair!?!

Ok shit it's 2:50 I have to go now... I will write more later!

OCAD Students Hard at Work

2007-04-17T01:46:00.000-04:00

This is a vidieo Bilal and Meghan took of me during 2nd year. Don't ask me how it all got started, but it's pretty cool.

HOMEWORK

2007-04-14T19:17:00.000-04:00

I am doing thesis work, I swear! It never ceases to amaze me the wierd shit you can find in Google searches. This one's keywords were "TD visa card" at Google images. What the hell is it, anyways?

I guess it's just further proof that these days, ANYONE can get a credit card.

3 MORE WEEKS

2007-03-28T21:11:00.000-04:00

Just cleaning off my desktop and found this image. No idea why it was there, or where it came from, but thought it might have been a warning or reminder to not slack off at school from the homework gods. It is entitled (by lord knows who) "3 More Weeks" which is precisely how much time I have until my final thesis presentation. Do you suppose the underlying message is "do good work girlie otherwise you will be taking the bus for the rest of your life." Or perhaps, if we look at the glass as half full: "do good work, and then you'll be hot and desired like Marilyn Monroe and Don Murray". No wait, I don't like that one. She died too young, and him I never heard of. p.s. What are they doing? Is she fainting? Is it a quaint 1950's allusion to fucking??? Oh well. Hmmm...maybe it's about finding true love at the bus stop--- OOOH I KNOW it's like a virtual fortune cookie. "In three weeks you will find true love at the bus stop." Ok, perhaps........but I don't think so because my true love just broke my heart. I just found out he's dating that bitch, Linday Lohan. Sigh....oh Jude. How could you?

What I've Been doing Lately

2007-03-15T23:11:00.000-04:00

February was a very creative month for me. I wonder, if anyone ever did a study, if they would discover that most great songs, poems, paintings, designs and other pieces of art were born in February, the saddest month. Design or die!!!! Ha, that makes any recent work a "Pisces," like me.

The pinnacle of productivity was the week before Come Up To My Room at the Gladstone Hotel, in which I and 21 other OCAD students, under the gentle guidance of Motherbrand Design, set up a Canadian Souvenir shop in room 214.

The idea was to re-imagine the Souvenir, and not surprisingly, almost all of the participants focused on the Canadian Souvenir; perhaps because-- as any trip to Chinatown or Yonge St. will remind you-- the items currently being sold as Canadian keepsakes are trashy, cheap, ugly and completely misrepresentative of what it actually means to be Canadian.

The show was a big hit, and the "Murdered City" decal tiles by Naomi Yasui and the "Canadian Prairie Snowglobes" by Dylan Pask were the top sellers. The caliber of work at this show was incredible. I spend a lot of time complaining about school and the shitty work that I am forced to ingest daily, but this exhibit made me feel very proud to be an OCAD soon-to-be alumni.

Here is my submission, "Comfort Food: Maple Cookies" up close:

I am currently under the heady influence of mould making, which I have fallen deeply, dangerously in love with. I moulded these porcelain Maple Cookies from an actual Dare Maple Cookie. It was very fun, and the mould smelled like maple even after a bunch of castings. Here is the description of the product from the CUTMR exhibit:

Made for Canadians abroad who miss their buttertarts, maple cookies, Smarties, Rockets and other comfort foods not available outside our borders. These porcelain talismans can be held snug in a pocket or purse, or displayed proudly as a pin or magnet.

I lived in Minneapolis for a year and it was a sad awakening realizing I would have to go without buttertarts as long as I was there. In fact, when I complained of this to my best friend, she packed up a dozen or so, and sent them to me in the mail. When they arrived, they resembled ground beef more closely than a delicious sweet treat, but I gobbled them up anyways. Mmm....PECAN PIE! You got NOTHIN on a butter tart!

Saturday March 10 @ Graffitti's

2007-03-07T00:15:00.000-05:00

PLEASE COME!!! It's the first gig with a full band in a long time! And probably the last until school is done in May....gulp....!

What Is All That White Fluffy Stuff?

2007-03-05T13:37:00.001-05:00

I spent two short, beautiful days of my mostly insignificant reading week (do they call it that instead of "break" because they know it's not going to contain any break at all?) in Northern Ontario dashing through 2 feet of powdery, pristine snow with 4 of my best loved ones. In one 24 hour period, we went snowshoeing (which SUCKS btw) hiking, cross country skiing, toboganning, trampolining and had a great snowball fight. It was absoluely the best winter experience I have had in years. Really, winter with nice snow-- the kind you can play in-- makes all the difference!

I will attach more pics later, I really just wanted to show off the snowsuit I got to wear:

This may actually be the best snowsuit remaining in the modern world. It belongs to my friend Chris' mother. It is all one piece and judging from the colour and the angle of the zipper, I am putting it at about 1992...but it was in use until at least 2001, according to the still-attached lift ticket.... go mom!!!!

Here is a picture of the best toboganning hill I have ever had the pleasure of sliding down. It took about 10 minutes to claw our way to the top, and then every ounce of courage I had to push forward and go! Thanks to Mike who "helped" me get started down the first time. After that it was easy, and screamy. Note the picture of me at the top waving my pink toboggan around...

Shipping And Receiving

2007-02-24T19:08:00.000-05:00

A few months ago I did a gig at Arcadian Court which is this fancy room on top of the Bay for old ladies and gents during the day, and weddings and shite on the weekend. I think it was the inagural party, but anyhow, I was left waiting in Shipping and Receiving for a while before load in, all by myself, with camera.

It was a weird timeless place, with artifacts from about 8 different decades. It was very weird and cool, and a bit creepy.

DON'T FEED THE STUDENTS

2007-02-03T12:17:00.000-05:00

Having fun in the snow with the too tame city critters. Aren't they cute.

They all look so......busy....somehow.............

Why God Created Redheads...

2007-01-27T16:30:00.000-05:00

I don't usually like to post other people's pictures, but this one made me laugh so hard, I couldn't help myself. It belongs to a girl named Jeanna, who I stumbled across while deep in a myspace trance.

I haven't been posting much lately, as I have been super busy and possibly a little uninspired. But I will get back to it soon. I am much happier these last few weeks...school is feeling much better, although now I am starting to panic about graduating in 3 months. I am feeling rather unprepared.

Is this normal?

All for now....K

BEST DOG EVER NEEDS A NEW HOME

2007-01-18T20:19:00.000-05:00

My sister and I have found ourselves in a terrible situation with our Shepherd Mix dog, Stella, and we were wondering if you could help....

Stella is a 4ish, brindle-coated beauty. We adopted her from a no-kill in Toronto as a puppy. She is wonderful, playful, smart, loyal and cuddly. She is excellent off-leash in the dog park, and loves going for a long run alongside a bike or rollerblader and chasing a ball or stick for hours, though she is a quiet couch potato inside the house. She is very smart, fast and athletic and would make a great "clicker" dog. She can be nervous in new environments, and is a bit unpredictable with other dogs, though she has never bitten one. She is protective and possessive in the house, and any visiting dogs, cats or babies must be watched to make sure they stay away from her food or toys, or she will likely chase them and and snap at them. She has not ever hurt another creature, but the display of aggression can be pretty nerve-racking sometimes. She has a commanding bark when someone comes to the door, which makes her a great guard dog, too.

She LOVES my sister's cat, and they play together, and eat out of the same bowl, but she hates my cats (it's mutual) and has chased them quite aggressively a few times. So she should probably go to a pet-free home.

At the end of the day, Stella loves curling up at the foot of the bed or couch and snuggling, and especially enjoys a belly rub or ear scratching. Stella does not beg for food or get into any trouble in the house; she is a perfect lady.

As you probably know, my sister has a week old baby, and is about to move to a bigger house (from a one-bedroom apartment) where there would be plenty of room for Lexy and Stella, but now the house has been delayed, and will not be ready for them before the Lexy is of crawling age. I have moved to Kensington Market, a loud urban area of Toronto which Stella is nervous and not herself, and my aging cats have started peeing all over my furniture and bed (yes, delightful) whenever Stella is around, so I can't take her. Absolutely heartbroken, we want to find her a good home, not have her end up at The Humane Society, where she would be sure to be seen as a "problem dog".

Would you be able to take her, or would you know a person/family who is experienced enough to deal with a wonderful but challenging dog like Stella? She is a great pet for someone with no small kids or other animals. Please email me at:
littlekatey(AT)sympatico.ca. I have not used the @ sign, because that leads to evil spamming.

Thanks, and keep your fingers crossed for us!

New Pet

2007-01-15T02:59:00.000-05:00

Uhhh...sorry. I was using blogger to make a point. But I won't delete that photo. That's my new pet, Bunbunbun, the three headed rabbit. Isn't he adorable? I got him from a farm in Pickering, Ontario. He is a very rare hare.

NEWBIE

2007-01-14T16:29:00.000-05:00

hi i love blogging...john rocks. hohoho.

Spinster Aunty Holds Tiny, Sausage Shaped Object

2007-01-12T02:29:00.000-05:00

Ok, so I'm now an aunty. This is the little lump, who who will be henceforth known as Lexy, or rather, Alexis Eve. My sister Sara and her husband George made her last April, and she arrived today at 8:30am. I was the very first person to see her (um besides Sara and George) and I am totally in love already. I can't wait to hang out with her, and teach her things and make up stories about how we found her on the streetcar, or strapped to the back of a large St. Bernard during the blizzard of '07.

Hmmm...you may be wondering if I felt maternal while holding her. The answer is most definitely "no". While I was filled with large amounts of love and happiness, I have only felt maternal once in my life, and that was while holding Leigh-Ann Seraris's baby at Trevor and Annie's wedding last September. I forget his name, but that baby and I had a serious thing going, for about 15 minutes. My stomach actually hurt, and my throat felt all lumpy. Thank goodness it passed quickly and I handed him back and got a stiff drink at the open bar. Come to think of it, it may have been AFTER the stiff drink, which would explain it a bit better.

I am going out to buy a large pack of condoms now, just to be on the safe side. See ya.

Biscuit (that's French)

2007-01-04T16:06:00.000-05:00

I am posting this delightful picture of the gingerbread cookies that my wonderful friend Maiwenn made for me over Christmas. There was a gingerbread party that I wasn't able to go to, because it happened right when my parents got sick....so Maiwenn, dear heart, made me cookies in the form of my mom and dad, on the beach, carefree and frolicking. They have since been devoured, and were delicious. Is that the kindest, sweetest thing you've ever heard of anyone doing?

Happy New Year, it couldn't be worse than the last one..

2007-01-03T02:31:00.000-05:00

2000 hits. Yay for me. So 2006 sucked. I mean really fucking sucked. I guess there were one or two good parts, but on the whole, it was pretty sad. I mean, if it were a new coat, I would have expected at least 50% off. It was like a Stitches year. No, even better, a Winners year. Not the new fancy Winners on Bloor, but one of the old ones, that still try to sell you acid washed jeans with waistbands that reach your thorax. I saw a pair the other day for 40 dollars. Who's going to pay 40 dollars for jeans that make your ass look like the longest part of your body? Really.

So here's to everyone who also had a shitty year. May 2007 be much improved. Truth be told, mine is already starting to look better. My New Year's Eve ROCKED. But if I tell you about it, I will have to kill you. After all, I am a secret agent.....

I'm Only Half Evil

2006-12-31T09:17:00.000-05:00

So for the 17th night in a row….I can’t sleep. At night, that is. My internal clock has somehow switched to the complete reverse, and my circadian rhythms are all fucked up. I will be awake until at least 6 am, and then will want to sleep until 2pm. The only problem is, I have to be somewhere tomorrow (this?) morning at 11am. WTF? I blame it on depression, stress, anger, coffee, lack of sex, lack of exercise, uncertain direction in life and loneliness. And internet television. It all started with goddam peekvids. Damn you, all three seasons of “The L Word”!!!!

So, in the meantime, while I wait for sleepiness to overtake me, which may or may not happen, I will regale you with the story of the smashing of my face. It’s like a Choose Your Own Adventure: one of the following stories is (mostly) true……

1. I have an innocent look to me; it gets me far in life. I am also rather plain, unless you happen to be in love with me, which would then make me the most beautiful woman in the world. But, you are not, so it is likely you never noticed me…and that is what makes me such a great spy. Actually, we are called “Secret Agents” these days. The term “spy” is rather out-of-fashion, and reeks of cold-war mello-drama in a way that is no longer cool or sellable. Anyhow, my most recent assignment will be my last, because I was “made” by my quarry. I had been tracking him for several months, with the directive to bring him in alive. But, last Saturday, as I closed in on him, he caught me on the staircase in Union Station, and threw a vial of sulphuric acid at my face. Fortunately for me, just as he released the vial, he slipped on a banana peel and most of the acid splattered harmlessly into the air, and only a hit a small area of my face. Also, fortunately there was a little boy of about 8 standing right beside me, holding a 22 ounce Slushie (blue) which I promptly grabbed and doused my face with. It flushed away the acid, preventing anything worse than superficial wounds from occurring. In the mellee, my adversary escaped. I can only hope my replacement is more cunning and successful. Don’t worry, the little boy was uninjured, but pissed that I took his Slushie. I gave him five dollars, and called 911 from his cell phone.

2. I work hard; I play harder. Being a full time student and a musician is a taxing lifestyle, and every now and then I like to throw off the shackles of industriousness and have some secular fun. One such night, I had been into the gin, the champagne, the rum, the beer and the Bailey’s with some friends, and was feeling no pain at all, when it suddenly occurred to me that I had once been a very famous dancer. Not like parallel-plane stuff, but more like nobody knows that I used to be a body double for Britney Spears because I am not particularly proud of those days. Ahh, the treacherous freedom of youth, when everything seemed like a good idea. What actually occurred to me was that it was time to come out of the closet, so to speak, and confess my kinetic deeds of days gone by to my friends. Being that dancing is a language without words, I decided to proclaim (reclaim?) my infamy with a spontaneous eruption of dance, right in the street, as I spied a conveniently located bench. You remember the video for “Hit Me Baby One More Time” with the unforgettable scene with the chair? Well, I not only choreographed that entire routine, but also performed it for Britney, who was, at the time, too junked up on shrooms to do the sequence. Fast forward to last weekend, when, to the delight of all those around me, I began singing loudly and gracefully leapt onto the bench to recreate the dance in it’s full glory. Much to my chagrin, the bench was cemented to pavement or something, and refused to tip. So I went over it head first and ended with a grand finale of balancing on my face. TAH-DAH!!! I am so sexy.

3. Early one morning, actually it was the morning after the Britney Spears episode, I was riding my bike along College, near Augusta. I was wearing my sexy blue Fedora instead of a bike helmet (bad idea), and feeling rather spacey from lack of sleep and the two drinks I’d had at work. By the way, my bicycle is also a sexy blue, with red sparkly handlebars, which I like to think make for a pretty sweet ride. I was riding along, minding my own business, thinking about butterflies and kittens, when Out of NOWHERE, a black car, I think it might have been a Volvo, decided it was of the utmost importance to make an immediate 90 degree turn to the right, directly in front of me, with no warning. Needless to say, this did not agree with the directly forward path my bike was taking, and there was an ill-timed impromptu display of Newton’s First Law, despite the clearly-marked “bikes only” lane. As I flew over the handlebars (in slow motion, of course), I tried to tuck and roll, as I had been trained to do in that one snowboarding lesson I took 8 years ago. It’s much harder to apply than you’d think. Wouldn’t it be great if I could have gracefully just turned my face plant into a dive roll, jumped up, arms spread, tippytoed, beaming at the judges? As it were, I landed on my face, and sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid. Like an aging boxer who refuses to stay down, I leapt up, picked up what was left of my mangled face off the pavement, and turned towards the car, which had stopped beside me, side mirror dangling like a loose tooth. The driver, a pasty, white dough-boy with black hair and mirrored glasses, sat with his mouth frozen into a perfect horrified “O” as he digested the blood running down my face. He might have been about to get out and apologize, but my adrenaline and pent-up passive aggressive rage had kicked in and I started yelling things like “YEAH! YOU BETTER DRIVE AWAY DOUGH BOY OR I WILL KILL YOU! JUST GET OUT OF THE CAR MUTHAFUCKAH—I DARE YOU!” as I tried, in vain (stupid Volvo) to kick the shit out of his side door. Where actions like these, in the wake of an accident that was clearly not my fault, come from I have no idea. Rage obviously, fear, yes. But also perhaps it is my guilty conscience. I did kick Eric W. in the balls once, really hard, in Grade 4. I am sure he has never forgotten, and I am still sorry I did it.

4. I tried to sand-paper away that fucking stubborn wrinkle that is forming there.

5. I woke in the middle of the night to my cat calmly licking all the skin from the left side of my face.

6. I was abducted by aliens, I think.

7. fuckit i'm finally tired.........good night

STOP EVIL DEPLETISTS!!

2006-12-24T03:57:00.000-05:00

So, why is it we have words like "racist", "sexist", "misogynist" etc, but we don't have a word for someone who doesn't give a shit about the environment? Amazingly talented friends of mine (Chris Braden and Mike Dudek) invented a word for exactly this purpose. The word is "depletist", an "individual or group who shows apparent, negligent or reckless disregard for the environmental conseqences of their actions". Click "here" to watch the launch (video) of the word into the English language.

Then click "here" to watch a hilarious video portraying the imaginary (or futurcasted?) infiltration of the word into the American political sphere. Good work guys! I heard they are already using it at the U.N. Seriously! Way to go!

Sorry for the fake blog insert, but YouTube is screwed up tonight. I guess they unplugg everything on Christmas eve.

Happy Christmahunnaquanza everyone!

Blog Formaldehyde

2006-12-22T05:32:00.000-05:00

Sorry it's been so long (all three of you who actually read this thing). Good thing blogs aren't like plants, where if you neglect them for three weeks, you find them waiting for you, dry, shrivelled up, and dead. I have many reasons as to why I am so tardy with this entry. I have lots of good stories to tell about the last few weeks, but school and life interefered with me having time to blog. Anyhow, here are a few things:

Apparently this is me, or rather, my "seduction style".

Click "here" and you can find out yours, too! I'd say it's rather accurate, hahaha.

Secondly, click "here" if you want to become addicted to internet t.v. I am. So far, watched every epsiode of "The L Word" (which $#@ing ROCKS by the way--except season three, which sucked) and also "Ugly Betty", which is hilarious. But which came first? Ugly Betty or The Devil Wears Prada. Seems to be the same story....but what do I know about fashion?

Thirdly, I want one of these.
Anyone have an extra one?

And lastly, but not leastly, please hug/call/kiss/smother with affection everyone you love RIGHT NOW!! I almost lost my stepdad 3 weeks ago, and then thought I was losing my mum too, and it was the worst thing I have ever dealt with. Thankfully, they are both going to be fine....but it was so scary. I felt completely numb. So if you love someone, please, TELL THEM. Use Christmas as an excuse if you have to--whatever! Use alcohol, a friend, a banner, a skywriter--do whatever you have to do. Just make sure they know.

Cute guy at She Said Boom...I LOVE YOU! Kensington Bird Lady...I LOVE YOU! Seth Scriver...I LOVE YOU! Old Chinese fish nerd guy at that hardware store on Augusta...I LOVE YOU! Mom...I LOVE YOU! Phil...I LOVE YOU...Lexy...I LOVE YOU....Connie ...I LOVE YOU! .....Everyone else...I LOVE YOU!!

OK, if I don't get a chance to say it, Merry Christmas everyone. I am feeling better. Thank God school is out for a couple of weeks. I can be human, and watch my blurry, tiny pixelated t.v.shows and knit.....

xoxox
k

Sometimes I Miss Minneapolis....

2006-12-05T23:21:00.000-05:00

This is one of my favourite pictures I have ever taken....I lived in Minneapolis for a year. But for George Bush, the cold, and a broken heart, I would still be there. MINNEAPOLIS (she said in her best Janet Jackson) I MISS YOU!!!!!!!

kat

I, Miss Winter

2006-11-28T21:07:00.000-05:00

Here are some of the original snowpants photos that were the inspiration for this blog when I launched it last March. Though it may have morphed into a place where I rant, comment and merely whine, the original intent of this site was to bring attention to the goodness of a real, good old-fashioned Canadian winter.

I was never a winter lover. In fact, I sometimes feel guilty for causing global warming because I used up so many childhood wishes wishing winter would disappear and never come back. My parents used to drag me skiing at a pretentious private ski hill in Collingwood, a sport which I never mastered and never enjoyed, especially after that time I had to come down from one of the baby hills in a stretcher due to an impromptu meeting with a tree halfway down. My favourite part of skiing was sitting in front of the fireplace in the lodge with a hot chocolate in one hand and a Garfield (or a little later, a V.C. Andrews) book in the other.

I am at odds with myself on global warming. It is hard not to enjoy the warm, sunny, unnatural weather we Torontonians are experiencing. It is hard to complain when the sun is shining and you're wandering around in December in a t-shirt. It is hard not to agree when a chatty stranger on the TTC or in the elevator comments, "Beautiful day out there, eh?"

With typical human behaviour, I never noticed how much there is love about winter until it was taken away from me. It's the little things: rosy cheeks, wet socks drying on the heater, the smell of wet wool gloves. It's about how alive you feel after you've been outside on a really cold day, and how great it feels to go inside and get warm.

So, from a serious convert, I wish you a cold, snowy beautiful winter. Bring it on Old Man Winter!

Performing a reasonable facsimile of "skiing" in Collingwood, Ontario.

Me and my sister Sara outside our childhood house in Thornhill. Note the gigantic snowbank.

My mother, Donna, in Leaside, circa 1945.

Me, dogwalking in Logan Park, winter 2004.

Is It So Wrong to Hate Christmas?

2006-11-20T20:03:00.000-05:00

Well it's that time of year again, according to the advertising world. Can you feel the Christmas cheer in the air, or is it just the sound of children double-clicking away at their online wish lists?

I hate Christmas. I hate the red bows and early bird sales, the propaganda and the not-so-subliminal advertising, the piped-in carols and oversized bells hanging from the ceilings of the mall. I hate the lines of tantrumous children threading its way through the malls from the Santa Photo Booth. I hate the parents cementing weird triangulations into their children's unconsciousness about the relationship of red plush, white fur and consumerism. I hate that people think it's wrong and mean-spirited to hate Christmas, the assumption that everyone loves Christmas because it's a time to share with your family and that I am having to write about this already in NOVEMBER. I hate being forced to buy presents I can't afford and to hurry up about it because Christmas is in just 2 days. If I want to buy something for someone, I do it-- all year long. I can't think of a better way to show someone you love them than by picking them up something small, and unexpected simply because it reminded you of them.

I hate that yesterday, on yet another snowless, warmer than average November afternoon, I was trapped for an hour by the Santa Claus parade and completely prevented from getting to Avenue and Prince Arthur from Spadina and College even though I was on my bicycle. Not only could I not get across Bloor Street, I was forced into a suffocating melee of children screaming for Clifford the Dog (??!!) and parents wearing ridiculous red and white springy Santa hats and lining the streets with their disposible Starbucks coffee cups. There were police marching on horseback, clowns, bagpipers (which I normally love) and cheer-leaders hyping the crowds with a "Merry...?" "CHRISTMAS!!" "Merry...?" "CHRISTMAS"!!!call and response, while the parade marched slowly and serenly forward, alongside the glassy fronts of the super high-end stores that line Bloor Street. I half expected to hear the cheer-leaders call out: "Ok kids!!! Who do we want??!! Holt.....?" "RENFREW!" "Holt...?" "RENFREW!!!!!!!"

Don't get me wrong, I am a diehard romantic. The kind of girl who puposely wears a flourescent pink velvet coat, hat and gloves in the darkest grey of winter because I believe in the power of cheer, of kindness and good intentions. I believe people have the ability to make each other smile, and I look upon it as my public duty to appear in my flash of pink, to combat the dreary sea of black grey and white that everyone else succumbs to when it gets cold. So, I understand the appeal of Christmas, the original intent. I am even ok with the religious ideology, though I can't say it's my thing. What I hate is being forced to experience Christmas with every inhalation from before Thanksgiving has even arrived. I don't actually hate Christmas. I hate what it has become. I hate that I am forced to hate Christmas.

I was wearing that coat yesterday, while trying to get to school. It must have clashed something awful with the look of disgust and anger on my face as I ineffectively waded my bike and I through the caroling, frothing crowd. I imagined children looking up at me, bursting into tears I as walked by saying "Mommy...why does that mean lady hate Christmas so much?" Because, little Virginia, it has become a farce. A hypocritical, deceptive prosthesis attempting to be what it can't be, and possibly, never was. Bah humbug.

Suck it up, wallet.

2006-11-19T04:09:00.000-05:00

So, I finally bit the bullet and got myself a new computer. My father nearly choked to death when I told him how much it was-- "Jeezus Christ, Kate. I just bought your sister a computer and it was only twelve hundred dollars!!!(sputter!!!gasp!!)"

Yes, well, if I wanted a cheap, underpowered portable sandwich grill, I could also have saved myself the extra $2000 and bought a shitty little Dell laptop. But, I am a confirmed Machelor, and after having the oldest, slowest, cutest, little iBook at school for the last 5 years (the poor thing is nearly 7), I felt it was time to go all out. Like a man choosing a flat screen tv, I wanted the biggest, baddest, fastest one available. I am going to be graduating soon, and need to look like a "PROFESSIONAL" and the little computer with the big heart is, undeniably and unfortunately, on his last legs. The battery's dead, the latch is broken, it's slower than molasses in February and if you so much as LOOK at the screen the wrong way, it goes black. It's sitting pathetically in the corner now, staring over here at my new MacBook Pro, which is 20 times faster, 20 times smarter and 200% wider, giving me those puppy dog eyes...."you- you're, coming back right? Tha- that's just a loaner, right??!!!???" Poor little guy. He was my signifier that all the world does not have to be disposable. Even after they unplugged the airport card at school that let me get online ("sorry, you're computer's just too OLD! It's slowing down the system.") I was determined that only death would do us part. Well, little buckaroo, you fought a good fight. It's time to put you out to pasture. You're going to live with .....Grandma. Not the worst fate in the world. She's already Mac savvy, and has a nice little table in the living room where he can just lounge around all day, doing nothing but emailing and saving pictures of kittens to the desktop. He'll never have to move, so his screen will be safe, and I can visit him whenever I want. Hear that, little guy? Gonna live with Grandma!!! I swear he just wagged his tired, beaten up little tail..I mean AC adaptor....

xoxoxox
K

p.s. here's the real reason I wanted a Mac, don't tell my dad:

God, I love Macs.

I Burst Boredom Easily

2006-11-12T21:18:00.000-05:00

I promised to post the other Michael Jackson photo, so here it is. Sorry about the grainy-ness, the girl who gave it to me said her printer was on the fritz...

Anyhow. I have been struggling to write a new bio for upcoming applications to NXNE and other such festivals, and finally got one put together with the help of a few friends. For some reason, I thought it would be funny to put it through one of those internet translator sites, so here it is, from English, to French and back again. Enjoy. I thought it was quite hilarious. I will put in bold my parts that are most favourite me.

p.s. you can read the original at www.myspace.com/kateymorley

If Katey Morley was a caricature character, she would be transfering: a X Men esque Forms it shifter. Disdained woman more pleasant smaller and a lot less than the devilish Mystical one, but just as to set up, and just as fascinating strong to look at. She laughs at the comparison, "I am not sure if to be offended or to be flattered extremely, but I obtain your point. I have a hard time just fact a thing, I guess."

She can have a hard time sinks to just a thing, but this dj/chanteur certainly multitasks with the better one of them. You were able to see his Ame of Gypsy one of alterna-frousse legends of Toronto of fronting, or spied maybe his belting out the jazz in a parlor of the center city connected. You were able to stumble through his cheek the folk songs to coffee restaurant local, or on scene to one of the summer a lot of festivals. Or maybe you caught a summary of his turn and the grattement in any of dance clubs of Toronto more hot. She is as comfortable plinking far to the lightly out-of-the air baby grandiose in his parlor as her is with to take 800 happy dancers and in sweat in a frenzy describe circles of behind a series of platinum. She changes his role of also often as she changes its socks (everyday, in case you wondered) -- a human kaleidoscope of talent. The wire holding these socks together, your boundary on his vast trip and musical heady, is a rich voice and ochre-trempé that you will not forget soon.

She is been in comparison of Feist, Portishead, Rikki The Jones, Nelly Furtado and Emmylou Harris, but all of this singer songwriter withstands the catégorisation. His own music has strong elements of dry, folk noise and the jazz, but she sang for the artists of reggae, r', hip hop, the house equipments and freezes (you can hear it on the club success Perfecto of the Okenfold of Paul "Invading Privément" on the Dance Nation 2003). His varied voice and its honest words and observatrices do for an engages, listen the intimate experience that seeps in in slow and the ask repeat listen. "I hate it when the women write all these morose and pathetic songs of the lovers that have the injury them. Of course I do it, also, but I laugh usually by the time I finished the writing of the words. I do not remain."

A good thing, also, because it does for a pleasant and hybrid collection of airs. His next album "the Small Satellite" co-produit by Duncan Coutts, of Our Lady Peace, and the Decayed Scott, that gave Hates to Emily of Metric one she first leg increases, 8 years ago, and presents certain musicians of guest of Toronto more heavy: Jeremy Taggart (OLP), Maury Lefoy (Jann Arden), Louis Simao (Eliana Cuevas), Jody Brumell (Zepplinesque) to name someone. There is songs of the boys, just like the better friends, the lovers, teaching them, his dog, its parents, his apartment, and does not import what of other than catches his trip, his vigilant imagination.

His act in life is a must see. There is something of his fragile confidence, and his lightly left personality that very obliges. His energy is big and contagious and his band a door turning, stretched and great of gifted jazzers, tip them and the tared acknowledged. This all contributes to a funny fresh atmosphere and unique on scene; you could see to hit Katey far to the piano, or a xylophone, or sitting next to the piece of keyboardist to play an impromptu duet while it sucks on a melodica. "I burst boredom easily, and I hate the songs it done similar manner two times," she explains. "We are all A. D. D. Everyone not is it?"

What Do Michael Jackson And A Giant Vagina Have In Common....?

2006-10-31T02:01:00.000-05:00

....me!!!

Welcome to Halloween 2006. One of the things I like about DJing again is the license to dress extra outrageously on Halloween--especially since I work at Church and Wellesley, where Halloween is second only to Pride in flamboyance and ridiculous costumes!

Friday NightNo one wants to be defeated! Show they how you're funky....

Saturday Night"So what's your costume supposed to be?"

Saturday, 4am.

I had about 25 people take my picture Saturday night. It took 3 showers to get the red out, and it's still in my hair and my ears. It truly looked like there had been a murder in the bathtub. Thanks to Matt and Atom for letting me get dressed in their place. I have a feeling it won't happen next year. Sorry about the blood spots all over the house!!!

Wegmans Cruelty--Has Anyone Else Seen This??!!

2006-10-25T01:43:00.000-04:00

Wow. Do not view if you are eating an omlette or a chicken sandwich.

Summary:
Wegmans Cruelty is a documentary produced by a small investigative team from the organization Compassionate Consumers. Organization members contacted Wegmans Food Markets (an American Supermarket similar to Loblaws) to try to hold some meaningful dialogue about the conditions at Wegmans Egg Farm, and were then misled and dismissed by Wegmans representatives. The team set out to capture actual footage inside the farm and create a film based on their experience. The film features statements from Wegmans representatives, interviews with the investigators, and footage of what life and death is like inside of an "Animal Care Certified" battery cage facility.

Irony, Irony Everywhere, And Not A Drop To Drink

2006-10-15T15:03:00.000-04:00

In an interesting, ironic turn of events, Ron Sexsmith, my future husband, is headlining a music series playing out in, of all places, Second Cup Cafes all across Canada. It is part of a marketing scheme by Second Cup, who are still the largest specialty coffee brewers in Canada, but obviously feeling quite a pinch from you-know-who from Seattle. (It may interest you to know that as I am typing this, I am sipping from my Starbucks travel mug--a latte roasted, ground and brewed about 75 paces from my door at the best coffee shop in the world, Ideal, on Nassau.) Not that I have a problem with Starbucks, really. I don't like the way they slip parasitically into communities and weed out the weaker and perhaps more authentic competition, so I try not to frequent their establishments, and instead hit a Canadian one-- preferably a mom 'n' pop-- whenever possible But that said, they do make a damn good cup of coffee and thanks to free trade, we are stuck with them....

Sorry...back to original post: Ron's new album "Time Being" is awesome. You should get it. His previous one, "Retriever", is even better (in fact it would be on my Top 10/Desert Island album list) but there are songs on "Time Being" that are completely worth the purchase. "Jazz at The Book Store" is one of those songs, and the reason I was so surprised a few weeks ago to see "Time Being" being sold at the Second Cup counter with various other CDs I had never heard of. The lyrics of "Jazz At The Bookstore" I had interpreted as a dig against coffee culture and the whole buy-a-coffee-and-a-CD-and-a-teddybear-and-a-mintgreen&burgundypercolator-and-a-matchingsetofmugs. Being a stalker, whoops, I mean "fan" of Ron's, I happen to know he spends much of his spare time in coffee shops, writing. I have seen him a few times myself, scribbling away, with that slightly guilty/scared look on his face that screams "please don't recognize me" and once I swear he even smiled at me. So when he asks "Has it really come to this?" I was right there with him. Yeah, Ron stick it to the coffee man!

So I chuckled and even said to myself, wow, Ron must be pissed about that! pointing at his stack of CDs front and centre on the Second Cup counter.

But now I understand. Second Cup is promoting up and coming CANADIAN musicians in a string of intimate performances in a few select shops and selling their CDs in their stores; similar to what Starbucks does, except unlike Starbucks, they have (to my knowledge) no vested interest in the artists/productions they present. All this promotion is in the hopes of branding themselves as a coffee company who is patriotic, and who "cares."

I am not sure I buy into that kind of ideology, and I am not sure a lot of other people will either, and I am not happy about my Ronny having to good-naturedly eat his own words but here's the irony: I don't care. I am thrilled beyond belief that they are doing it. I am filled with a grande, extra tall, skinny sense of excitment as a musician, a music lover and as a Canadian. Joni Mitchell's career began in pre-posh Yorkville cafes many moons ago, I love the idea of bringing back "real" cafe culture. Let's just hope that the "branding" aspect doesn't get in the way of what is a really cool idea.

Warning: Plot Spoiler Ahead

2006-10-10T17:00:00.000-04:00

Thanksgiving. No picture today, sorry. New camera's memory card broke. Stupid new camera. :)

Went to Winnepeg this weekend for one of my best girl's weddings. As the plane lifted from the runway on Friday afternoon, I was overcome with love, and pangs of premature longing for this city, Toronto, that I was about to leave for 4 days. It was very similar to the feeling I used to get when I was leaving my long-distance lover at the airport after an always too-short visit; sad, but fulfilled, and fizzy with anticipation of the next reunion. Which by the way, was sweet, this afternoon when we taxied back into Pearson airport. I waited at the TTC stop (post C28) with a big smile on my face, in the warm, fall sunshine, and then practically sighing with happiness as the Spadina streetcar glided me south to Kensington Market, my hood.

What I realized, over the course of this weekend is that it's not so much that I am in love with Toronto (though I definitely am) it's that I am in love with my life. I love every bit of it: the stress, the school worries, the coffee highs, the lovelows, the bike rides, the proximity of friends, the smiles of my neighbours, the frowning lady who lives downstairs, Stampy who lives upstairs, the Market squeegee hoodlums that dress and look scary but that are actually kinda sweet, the constant threat of failure, the music, the depressed days that provide songwriting fodder, the bakery, the 6 extra pounds I've gained since I moved here, the guy who rides the recumbent bike with the softest Jack Russel poking out of the back basket, the 2 minutes it takes me to get to school, the fact that i know so many of the people in this neighbourhood by name, or at least by sight.

In Winnepeg, I spent the weekend with a family, who despite all their quirks and claims of disfunctionality, love each other to death, and welcome me as a family member wholeheartedly every time I go there. And tonight I sat in Sarah and Jesse's warm kitchen, with 20 other friends of the music/yoga variety, with a belly full of delicious homecooked food, seat-dancing to the kitchen boombox that was tinny-ly belting out all our favourite tunes amidst stimulating, relevant, spirited debate with a room full of awesome people. Some of whom I've slept with, cried with, swam with, sang with, drummed with, written with, danced with, dog-walked with, gossiped with, and now all of whom I've had the lovely fortune to eat with. I left there, like I left Winnepeg, feeling warm, loved, satisfied.

Sarah's sister is a chef, so the food was delicious, and they asked only for everyone to drop a donation to the Daily Bread Food Bank into a jar before they left. On the way home, She lovingly packed me a margerine tub of left-overs that I was looking forward to eating tomorrow. But something about the red-rimmed eyes of the young guy with the big, sleeping dog at Dundas and Bay made me give it away. I hope he ate it right away; it was still warm. I felt sad after I gave it to him, as if I hadn't done nearly enough. And also guilty beyond belief for coming from such an incredible place and spewing what might have been depressing amounts of light and happiness to this guy as he huddled under his sleeping bag as I pulled up for the stop light. I hope I am wrong. He said "God Bless you," which used elicit a knee-jerk Atheistical scoff, but these days I take purely for its intent.

So, Happy Thanksgiving. How lucky I am. How lucky we all are, in our North American bubble of abundant food and easy friendships.

1000 HITS!!!

2006-10-05T00:17:00.000-04:00

Happy birthday to me. Hmmm....who else has had 1000 hits?

Obvious, though they were all staged, every one....

Again obvious, sorry, but I couldn't help it...

Yes......in more ways that one!

Definitely had a few hits in his day...

Um....not talking about her music career....

Crass, boorish, uncalled for............. but funny??! Oh well. I amuse me.

Thanks for visiting, and I love you all-- all 1000 of you (lol, I think I am responsible for about 899 of them!)

Is It My Imagination or Does The Word "Vegan" Sound Slightly Evil...?

2006-10-03T18:04:00.000-04:00

Tell me I didn't just experience a pang of guilt for cutting open an apple? The apple lay there, pathetically, looking ever so much like an animate object. Halved, it has a face. Quick, cut out the eyes, and quarter it! Now there are 8 pieces. Now it looks like food, good.

That's better.

No Explanation Required....

2006-09-27T22:59:00.000-04:00

To quote my friend Paul: "Good Work"

I'm A "Winner"

2006-09-27T21:35:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-24T22:37:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-23T03:10:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-18T01:04:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-15T02:51:00.000-04:00

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....

2006-09-10T05:03:00.000-04:00

(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

2006-09-07T11:48:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-06T11:43:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-01T11:41:00.000-04:00

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

2006-09-01T02:17:00.001-04:00

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.

THE ANaTOMY OF A CHEERS

2006-08-30T23:31:00.001-04:00

Ever wondered what a glass is thinking in the crisp moment just before it smashes into a bigger, meaner looking pint glass? Last night we sent JonJon off, back to Holland with long sad faces, as you can see by the photos. We heart you Jonny! Can someone please invent an emoticon for a heart already?? <3

My Cat's Cradle fingers can whip your Nintendo thumb

2006-08-26T14:02:00.000-04:00

It has recently become clear to me that I am slowly turning into my grandmother. Not my mother (she's much cooler than I will ever be), but my Nanny, Eve, who I will ever remember for her perfectly coiffed hair, wheezy, silent guffaw and closet full of sequined ball gowns and patent shoes. I did not inherit her sense of style, unfortunately, but with each day that passes I resemble her more and more closely-- physically and psychologically.

Nanny was a classy lady (ha, I guess I will get to the resemblance part later); she knew how to serve tea, and did so in fine-boned teacups with spidery, delicate hands. She was always dressed in a skirt suit (or, at least, in my memory she was) and had the most gorgeous collection of costume jewelry. Bracelets, necklaces, and screw-clasped earrings-- holes were for cheap women-- that I have inherited, despite my eight in total piercings. She had gold lamay blouses and satin evening gowns, and a "waist-reducer" that looked like a bathroom scale, that you stepped onto and twisted for a smaller, firmer waistline. I guess it worked, because she was tiny even when she passed away at around age 70. My sister and I spent hours up there playing on that thing, and trying on her makeup and jewelry, peering at ourselves in her vanity mirror.

These memories always surprise me, looking back, because Nanny wasn't what you would call a "kid" person. She was very fussy, and never actually "played" with us. She loved us, for sure, but was more of a hands-off kind of Grandmother. Don't touch anything, don't break anything, and above all keep the noise level down because she usually had a headache. But for some reason we were welcome to rifle through her most prized possessions, and do what we pleased with them. Nanny's gift to my sister and I was not amusement, or big-bosomed, bandaid bearing hugs. It was how to use a hot water bottle, how to apply lipstick, how to decorate a parlour, how to be a "lady" and how to love your husband with the grace and thoroughness of a queen.

And thank God someone was teaching those lessons, because in the 1970s, my Nanny's craft (and that of other ladies her age) was fast becoming a forgotten art. So, she was our secret benefactor, bestowing herself subtly and generously, and, in my imagination, she watched us playing through the crack of the door, wondering how two such energetic tomboys could possibly be related to her, while her heart pounded with inexpressible, mystifyingly deep love.

I think about her a lot, because I didn't really know her. She died when I was 11, and is mostly hazy and mythological in my mind. I have many pictures of her, and it is true that I am beginning to look exactly like her. I even laugh like her, right down to the asthmatic sounding wheezes. I wonder at times if this freaks my grandfather out. Papa, as it turns out, was much younger than my Nanny. A total babe, he was, kinky black hair and big shoulders. He's 84 now, and his hair only began to turn gray a few years ago. Still a head turner, in my opinion, though I may be biased. Papa used to save the cardboard rectangles that the Laundromat put inside his freshly pressed shirts, for my sister and I to draw on. I still have one of them somewhere, tucked into an old scrap book. He was/is a real joker, with a great, loud laugh, and a completely wicked black and white 1970ish MGB that we were allowed to sit in while it was parked in the garage.

In my long winded way, what I am getting at is this: as I age, I find I am clinging more tightly to the things and memories of the past; things that made me who I am today, for better or worse. I just came back from the cottage, which we have had since I was about two. Until recently, it has never changed, not even a bit. Fake wood paneling, cheap orange carpet, mis-matched 70s furniture. It was perfect. But now, I guess as my dad nears retirement, he is getting bored, and he keeps renovating the cottage. Gone are the mushroom covered brown drapes and beige 14 acre velveteen couch--replaced with a Burgundy and hunter green, plaid outfit that fell out of a Sears catalogue. Gone are the weirdly out of place posters of Austria and the ugly brown bunk beds, replaced with floor-to-ceiling pine planks, a skylight and lamps made out of miniature canoes and moose antlers. Gone are the moldy air mattresses and moth-ball smelling blankets, and in are the gigantic powerboat with the walnut-paneled dash and the powder blue exterior paint job that clashes so smartly with the green of the surrounding pine trees and rust of the forest floor.

It makes him happy, so I say nothing. It's his, he earned it, and we were lucky enough to spend many moments up there, luxuriating in the "true" outdoors. It just reminds me of all the things I hate to admit are disappearing rapidly from our lives, and completely truant from this generation of children's lives. Gone are the skipping rope and the tennis ball in the nylon-- replaced with PS2, Pokemon and Tamagatchi. Gone are the campfires, singsongs and hours spent in the park down the street, and in are MSN, American Idol and child snatching serial murderers. Gone are games we made with string and popsicle sticks, and hitting each other on the head with our hockey sticks-- and in are Nintendo, Second Life and morbidly obese children. Sigh.... Forgive my rose-coloured glasses, and hypocrisy as I type this on my tiny, trendy iBook.

I wonder what happened to the waist-reducer? Who inherited that? Or did it end up in the garbage. Strange, the kinds of cheap artifacts our memories can make so deeply nostaglic.

K

p.s. drop by XPACE Gallery on Augusta, to see Wall + Paper II. I have a piece there that encapsulates all the griping I just did.

Cat's Cradle

click here for cat's cradle/ string figure how-to movies!!!!

Fig. 1-- The Cat's Cradle

Fig. 2-- Book Ends

Fig. 3 -- London Bridge

Fig. 4-- The Pinky One

Fig. 5-- Taffy

The Costume Made Me Do It

2006-08-20T21:13:00.000-04:00

You know your friends are cool when they throw a Lawrence Welk themed wedding for themselves and 150 of their closest friends. This wedding was authentically campy, down to the pastel dinner-ware, the giant rice-crispy wedding cake and the Estonian community hall it was held in. Congratulations Jason and Dan!!! We love you, and may your marriage last much, much longer than my bizarre obsession with blogging!

I went with my good friends, Matt, Atom, and (my date) David, and another boy, Scott, and we shimmied and drank Cuba Libres until we thought doing a photoshoot was a good idea. Actually numerous photo shoots. We have decided, based on the following photos, that we should form a band, and perhaps also direct perfume ads.

Remarkably, I was the most sober, but when I got home, I had to deal with my hair, which David had teased for 2 hours into a giant, agressive bouffant. You can see the fun I had trying to get it back to "normal". Sigh.... with digital cameras comes a perceived license to take as many photos of as many things as you want. Perfect for the obsessive compulsive/ADD types. How many pictures of my eye can I take? I really should be sleeping right now. Digital cameras will be the death of me.

Life Matters

2006-08-19T11:24:00.000-04:00

OK I promised to upload my contribution to Imaging Change, and here it is. Obviously you can see it is not a "poster" in the traditional sense, but I am definitely not a graphic designer in the traditional sense. I do ok with textiles, though, and I think this particular piece was one of the most rewarding/satisfying things i've done in a while. It sold for $100!!!!

I must say, the research for this piece was heart-wrenching. Everyone knows about the AIDS epidemic in Africa, but rarely do we actually SEE the images. Even if we do, we tend to quickly shut them out-- because they are horrifying. To make this poster, I had to force myself to look, and two things struck me as I delved deeper into the story of children with AIDS in Africa. One, the main problem in this escalating epidemic is ACCESS to treatment, education and support. Many African communities simply do not have the funding or the infrastructure.

And two, despite this, there is still HOPE. For every heart breaking image or story I uncovered, there were also ones of change, networks, outreaches and awareness forming. There were pictures of children smiling, running, playing, fighting, squealing with delight. Being kids. It was pretty amazing. Profound.

I am glad I had the opportunity to make even a small difference. Thanks to my friend Cathy, a nurse who goes to Africa to work with children there, who gave me the following links:

www.unaids.org
www.unicef.org
www.theglobalfund.org
www.stephenlewisfoundation.org
www.who.int

ANYBODY NEED A BIKE?

2006-08-16T01:03:00.001-04:00

Magic bike for sale, cheap. See picture below. Serious offers only.