There's no big bang and there's no big mess

I've been known to do stupid things or undertake gambles that I should not dare contemplate. Last night, as me and Max parted ways with Vince at Mexicali Rosa's, I exclaimed 'Oh yeah, I've got at least enough gas left in my car to take us to Casselman. We'll gas up there." As it turns out, my claim was correct. As we approached Casselman, I was beaming with pride, happy to see that my barely-considered presumption was turning to fact. What I did not bank on however, was that a mess of cones and construction work would confuse the hell out of me and make me drive right past the much-sought-after exit. As the reality of what had just happened settled in, I thought to myself: 'alright, this is a minor setback. If I made it this far, I can surely make it to the next exit." This is where things go slightly awry and my idiotic assumptions turn to... well, idiocy.

My car runs out of gas, pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Fun. So me and Max do the only thing we can do: we start walking to the next town with our arms extended and our thumbs shooting up to the sky. A few minutes go by and a moderately large transport truck stops on the side of the road abit up ahead of us. As we hastened our pace and set out towards the red glare of the truck's rear lights, we contemplated the scenarios that could potentially unfold as we'd open that cabin hatch and greet the faceless person inside. We arrived at the conclusion that friends should never ever hitch-hike together, because you never know when some sicko will pull a gun on you and force you to give your friend a blowjob as payment for the 'ride.' This would, without a doubt, ruin a pretty good friendship, but I digress. As we climbed into the truck, we weren't greeted by a depraved sex-fiend, nor by a machete-wielding maniac or any of the other uninspired stereotypes that we'd pitched on our brief trek to salvation. Nah, it was just a terribly nice, mild-mannered old man delivering newspapers to Montreal. He gladly gave us a lift to the next town over, which happened to be Maxville. We talked about the weather and gas prices. It was classic.

We were deposited at a gas station; an Esso if I am not mistaken. Now we needed fuel, this much was certain. We walked into the store area, identified the clerk and asked him if we could buy a gas container. He told us they didn't have any more, which was definitely a problem seeing as we weren't going to run back to the car with mouthfuls of fuel, nor were we going to do the old hand-cup trick. So we did what any self-respecting young men would do: we rummaged through garbage bins in search of makeshift containers. My fuck up and fate had reduced us to the level of raccoons. After a bit of fruitless foraging, we struck gold by finding a cage filled with empty windshield washer containers. Me and Max each grabbed one and pumped a few litres of our coveted substance into them. After paying, we walked back to the highway, plastic jug filled with gas in one hand, Kinder Bueno in the other. As we got to the highway on-ramps, Max picthed a brilliant idea. He suggested we run all the way across the highway, and then attempt to hitch-hike back to the car. And run we did, only to find ourselves in a pinch when we realized that both sides of the highway were separated by a treacherous swamp... a dark, treacherous and murky swamp. After much struggling, we emerged on the other side clutching our precious liquid, feet and pants drenched in gross highway swamp water. We resumed our walking and signaling. It wasn't long before a small firefly-esque car pulled up to the side. The usual debate about what exhuberantly gruesome method of murder would be employed against us by the car's driver was had.

As we sat down in the tiny automobile, the man in the driver's seat greeted us: 'Hi guys, I'm G but you can call me Che... As in Che Guevarra, he's my idol. You guys really smell like gas.' As it turns out, the man's name was actually Girison. He was a Guatemalan-born naturalized Canadian. He'd escaped Guatemala when he was young, after a stint in the Guatemalan Army. The high levels of repression and unmeasured violence he saw made him crave for better living conditions. He was a contractor who mainly did landscape work, but he'd had a career as a chef before. He also recounted the tale of how he became a homeless man living on the streets of Ottawa after his wife and four children had left him. He picked himself up and out of a life of poverty and hard drugs, started his own landscaping company and became the man he is now. He offered us Cuban cigars, but we declined because our gas covered hands were something of a liabiity, not to mention the fact that neither of us smoke. As we barelled down the highway towards my derelict automobile, our man Girison treated us to ultra-loud Eminem, 50 Cent and Kanye West.

We got to the car and we emptied the contents of the windshield washer containers into the gas tank, spilling quite abit on the ground in the process. Girison waved around a pair of bright orange construction pants at oncoming traffic in the meantime. He was trying to make us visible to oncoming cars so that no one would accidentally run us over while we fumbled around with makeshift gas containers. With the deed done, my car sparked to life and we were ready to resume our return to Montreal. We whole-heartedly thanked Girison for his help and kindness, to which he replied with a wink : 'Don't thank me, thank the big guy up top!' We quietly drove off with a business card for a landscaping company in our hands and a pretty neat story to tell in our heads.

we are the matched and numbered ones who live in constant disrepair

I've been dealing with my recent state of being in the most unsavory of fashions. I'll admit that I've always had a certain penchant for self-destruction with a (not so) healthy dose of deep introspection thrown in, but lately things have gotten out of hand. For the past two weeks I've been seeking out solace at the bottom of a bottle every night and this has become a more than obvious problem for me. Out the door with such nonsense, I say. I need to put myself back together, to glue back the pieces that fell off during this tumble to where I am now. In the face of all that I've been through lately, of what still gnaws at my mind every other minute and of what I stand to go up against with my impending return to Montreal, I need all of my strength, a clear head and a direct perspective on my ambitions. To attain these ambitions certains objectives must however be set. Objectives are a lovely thing. How about we list some of mine right this instant and see if they can be met. I'll stick to strictly short term things for now, because I need to work in the now in order to make things work out later.

1) I need to find a a new job in Montreal as soon as I humanly can. I've been out of work these past two weeks and while I made a fair amount of money working such a ridiculously displeasing job, the above phrases should offer a hint as to where quite abit of that money went. I would like to find something close to home and at least somewhat fulfilling. There's a delightful looking tea house that just opened up the street from me and I think I might just be the Tea house kindof guy. We'll see, but the search gets underway as soon as I am back home.

2) I need to write more. I aim to be a writer and I greatly enjoy writing, therefore it should be natural that I write in a more consistent fashion. I want to get back into writing for the student paper, to try my hand at doing more freelance pieces, to write more about music and even to dabble in expanding my abilities at fiction writing.

3) I need to work on making friends and contacts in my milieu. I realized that I haven't kept contact with any of the people that I attended classes with last semester and I think that this is a shame. For one, I don't know a great deal of people in Montreal and it would be nice to have friends or acquaitances to go have a pint with every once in awhile. Also, in a field such as journalism it helps to have a network of associates with whom you can work in tandem with. Solidarity can go a long way. I need to shed some light on my sympathetic side.

4) I need to try and get back into some form of physical shape. Basketball outings with friends, excursions to the gym and a decent amount of jogging need to be of the order.

5) I'll end with something moderately cliché. I need to take care of matters of the heart. There's something I've been mulling over and debating for too long and it needs to be dealt with. I deeply care for this person and through the absolute mess that has been my life this summer, that is one of the single recurring and stable thoughts I've had. My timing is abit off on this matter considering the changes that are coming in barely a week, but it's never too late for such things.

I'm sure this list will grow as time goes on, but this is a stepping stone or a starting point I guess. I would be ecstatic if I could do things the right way for once.

love.jm

I'm damaged bad at best

This is it. This is absolute dejection. I don't think I've ever felt this bad, though I'm sure I've been in worse situations in the past. Somehow though, I am devoid of any defense mechanism. I feel utterly hopeless, helpless and without direction. This post is simply to catalogue this feeling. I honestly hope there's nowhere to go but up.

Outside, the unbearable grows

What an absurd being I am. I am an unending cycle, a series of patterns continuously colliding into themselves. But despite having resigned myself to accept this fact, I continue to live through the events that are dropped into my lap with quivering intensity and passion. I am unable to simply be indifferent, to just shrug anything off and carry on with my self-fulfilling existence. I often wonder whether or not I'm at all grateful for this trait of character.

Right now, right this instant as I'm typing this, I hurt. This might be temporary, this might be a reaction to a variety of circumstances or a brief plunge into the more fatalistic parts of my mind, but I'm filled with sadness and regret. I feel like I've wasted another rather extended period of time pursuing something that I could simply not have. I have this strange tendency of falling into these situations and being utterly incapable of dealing with them in an adequate and resolute fashion. I despise my insecurities and my inability to get over what I can only describe as 'ever-looming self-doubt.' May the echo of these words cease before morning.

We salute you, oh half-inflated devil lord!

School is done and I am now 22 years of age. Interesting. I really have nothing more to add right now, though I shall leave you with the musings of someone who is infinitely wiser than me and who's words mean a great deal to me.

Will you come and what will I say
Oh I have been so distant and unhappy
Like I could disappear

When I was a boy I saw things
That no one else could see
So why am I so blind at twenty-two
To the hope that is all around me
Filling up this room

On the road on my own
Waiting for the words to fall from your tongue
Into my ears

When I was a boy I could hear
Symphonies in seashells
So why am I so deaf at twenty-two
To the sound of the driving snow
That drives me home to you

Cheers y'all.

Sappy derivative nonsense

I've felt really hollow these past few days. My existence has been reduced to nothing more than sitting in my apartment and writing papers. Now that's all fine and dandy, I'm a student and that's what students do I suppose. I simply feel uninteresting; I have no great stories to tell, no charming or quirky anecdotes to relate... even the one about how I got this scar above my eye is getting really fucking boring to reiterate. Am I just exhausted? That doesn't seem quite right somehow. I would think a large part of it might be related to my activities as of late. Sure, there's school and that takes up a whole heap load of my time. And then there's... well, nothing much. I'm trying really hard to love Montreal, to belong here, to feel like I've actually created something for myself here. But truth is, I haven't really. I haven't contributed to this city in any substantive way and that irks me considerably. Also, it should be of note that what I wrote back in December is still true today: by and large, I am alone in this city. I barely have any friends and, moreso than before, I believe it's starting to get to me. What might anger me even more is the idea that I won't even get the chance to rectify that problem right away. I'm moving back to Ottawa in less than a month to work some government drone position that'll result in me making mad cash. But I'll just be delaying this painfully long adaptation process even more, and such a thing is frustrating to me. Fuck, I feel dried out. A prof commented on one of my papers a few weeks ago that my writing isn't as fresh or dynamic as it was before Christmas. That actually really got to me. I think he's right, but I definitely lack the means to fix the problem. I want too though. It seems so imperative to me that I get back whatever it is that I lost. I also strongly doubt that, as some people have suggested, time off and a bit of sunshine are all that I need to set things right. I don't know, it seems kindof wrong to attribute such messianic qualities to a time of year. Oh and fuck off, I'm not going anywhere with this. Il pense trop et ne dort jamais assez.

My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder...

He just hopes he was able to make even the slightest impression. He sinks in his seat. His hands typing at the keyboard seem paler and bonier than usual. He wonders how long this entry will be, a few lines or a few paragraphs? He rolls his eyes reading the previous phrase, knowing full well that his eyes are twitching shut because of fatigue and that he has to get up early in order to type up an article. He gets annoyed when the same word is used twice in a phrase. He misses pale shadows cast by dried up roses in juice glasses. He also misses something else, but he has too much pride to write about it. It's a shame he's completely see-through.

The beat that my heart skipped..

The key word today is numb. I've been feeling and dealing with some form of that concept since about noon hour and I'm very much lost on how to deal with it. Seemingly it's even over-arching to my writing, as I've apparently been staring at this blank box for about five minutes, knowing full well that I want to say something, but being entirely incapable of going through with it. That you're reading these words right now can be attributed to my decision of simply writing what's coming out (with some minor tweaking and editing.. as any student of a form of the written word would indulge in). So what is it that's wrong with me? I honestly can't quite put my finger on it, but I'm starting to wonder if the question I should be asking isn't 'What isn't wrong with me?'. Without a doubt, I feel empty. I just came to realize today that I haven't felt a polarizing emotion in such a long time. I've been wading through these questions of self, trying to define what 'home' is to me and desperately trying to figure out where I belong, but through it all I've lost perspective of myself, I forgot to touch base somewhere and now all I've got is this sense of emptiness. But emptiness on what level? I'm thinking emotional and creative expression. In a sense, it's like I've been trying so desperately to figure myself out from the inside that I forgot to let things in. I'm just realizing this now and it seems really tragic to me. I'm also realizing that I keep talking about 'realizing things' and 'realizations' and other nonsense of the like, and it's getting me self-conscious about my writing. Fuck.

So how do we cure this? How do we turn a cyclical and self-fulfilling concept like this on its head? I imagine there is no concrete way. But maybe not feeling so lonely for the first time in what seems like forever could help. I really miss having someone to share with and that really seems to be a recurring theme in these posts. If only I wasn't so awkward at pursuing relationships, if only I wasn't so afraid of getting hurt yet again, if only I didn't feel so horribly uninteresting and 'not myself' when I do happen to meet someone nice and lovely, maybe I'd stand a chance. Then again, maybe I'm creating an existential vortex out of a one night case of feeling numb.

Who am I kidding? I'm obviously insane. Good night.

Sweep the dirty stairs, the ones I waited on...

So I've decided to put to pasture those two blogs that never got any use. To say that my initial project of maintaining four blogs, with varying subjects and interests, was ambitious would be quite the understatement. Now that's not to say that I have no opinion or interest in the matters of music or political/philosophical rambling (those who know me well are aware that it's quite the contrary but simply, I sometimes lack motivation to put all my thoughts to paper, or some form of binary/hexadecimal code, as the case may be. Against all odds, the monstrosity known as Francis Bacon Stole my Shoes has emerged from the wreck that is my blogging career and has trampled through the countryside, swatting down helicopters, toppling buildings and terrifying hapless bespectacled asian businessmen. Oh, the wrath, the inhumanity, the shitty low-res pictures. Whatever. I've discovered a fondness for photography, and I'll keep nurturing it as long as I feel that I'm passionate about it.

So what's new in Camp Cynical Jerk, you ask? Nothing much to be honest. My second semester of journalism school is underway, and while I'm still fascinated with the subject matter, a few of the classes I'm currently taking are leaving an acrimonious taste in my mouth. My radio class is of little interest to me, my interest in broadcast journalism having sunk long ago alongside the Empress, the Laconia, the Innesfallen and other similarly doomed vessels. Also, quite a few of the assignments that I have to turn in for my Writing and Reporting 1 class are focused on community going-ons, a subject that I have a fairly limited fascination with. But aside from these minor blemishes, my school semester is fruitful enough.

I've also been going through frequent bouts of introspective contemplation and mild depression. Something about this place bothers me. I have no clue what 'something' represents, nor am I certain which 'place' I'm referring to. This apartment? This town? The state of 'me' at this moment. It could be any one of those things, but I lack comfort, I lack warmth. On certain days it feels like these walls are miles-thick. On certain days it feels like these four and a half rooms are the furthest place from any source of light. Consequently, it often feels like I'm navigating a series of dimly lit hallways with blinders on. Every step uncertain. The end cloudy and obscured, the means terrifying and fragile. If only someone could come and show me where that light-switch is. I'd be forever grateful.

In band news, we're still rehearsing and writing, with no shows planned for now. We've created a blog specifically for band announcements, so I'd suggest for anyone with an interest in overwrought instrumental music to direct themselves over to http//cityofahundredspires.blogspot.com . We'll be updating it fairly often with nonsensical ramblings from all four of the band members.

Finally, I'm going to end this rare update with a little something special:

A bit over a month late, here it is, JM's top 20 records of 2005!

(keep in mind this list is limited to full records, i've left out eps, splits, singles and the like)

20 -- Jamie Lidell - Multiply

An amazing throwback album, perfect 70s soul mixed with cutting edge electronic flourishes. An absolutely fun listen from start to finish. Great to get your groove on to.

19 -- Sam Prekop - Who's Your New Professor?

Great laidback record. Everytime I listen to it I can't help but be taken back to summer days and good times. Sam's breathy voice is just enchanting on this. He sounds better than on any Sea and Cake record on here.

18 -- A Silver Mount Zion - Horses in the Sky

Beautiful, emotional, epic and moving. It's all about the vocals; fantastic melodies and harmonies. If the triple-canon at the end of 'God Bless our Dead Marines' doesn't put a lump in your throat, nothing will.

17 -- Sufjan Stevens - Illinois

Amazingly eclectic record filled with a variety of instruments and moods. Some of the most inventive arrangements to be found on an indie rock record. Sufjan proves that his being prolific does not come at the cost of quality song-writing.

16 -- The Clientele - Strange Geometry

Lovely dreamy indie pop. Think Paul Simon backed by sweet delay and reverb drenched guitars. An absolutely splendid listen.

15 -- Prefuse 73 - Surrounded by Silence

Fantastic glitchy hip-hop record. Features more vocal appearances than his previous work, but still enthralling. Appearances of note: The Books (gorgeous track with chopped up banjo), El-P, Ghostface, the GZA and Aesop Rock!

14 -- Sigur Ros - Takk

Ridiculously pretty. Most definitely their most accessible material, characterized by warm, heartbreaking melodies and the occasional deafening crescendo. Loverly indeed.

13 -- Kepler - Attic Salt

Ottawa's indie veterans released a real gem this year. Beautiful, perfectly written indie rock. Samir's voice sounds fantastic on this release and his melodies and lyrics follow suit. Check this out.

12 -- Mogwai - Government Commissions

Live set of songs from Scotland's post-rock tyrants. This is worth the price of admission simply for the earth-shattering 18 minute rendition of Like Herod, and for it's chill-inducing version of New Paths to Helicon 1. Oh, and the rest is great too.

11 -- Jaga Jazzist - What We Must

Lush instrumental compositions incorporating a huge variety of instruments and sounds. Really evocative music, it instantly summons up colorful images in the heads of anyone smart enough to listen. Just amazing.

10 -- The American Analog Set - Set Free

Slow, dreamy, lovely and, dare I say it, sexy. Really gorgeous minimal indie rock, complete with vibraphone. 'She's Half' is one of the most beautiful tracks I've ever heard. Check it out. Similar in mood to My Bloody Valentine, if anyone cares.

9 -- Explosions in the Sky - Travel In Constants: The Rescue

Okay, I'm cheating just abit on this one. This is not quite an ep and not quite an lp, more of a miny album. However, it's just too good to leave off this list. At this point, it seems this band can do no wrong. They expanded the instrumentation on this release, but cut back on song lengths. The result is mesmerizing. Stuff to listen to loud and with the lights off, while doing nothing else.

8 -- Kanye West - Late Registration

Ridiculous production, genuinely fun songs and a great cast of guest appearances (Common, Lupe Fiasco, Jay-Z, Adam Levine(!?), Gil Scott-Heron). The first half of this record is near flawless, while the second lags abit. Still an amazing mainstream hip-hop record. Word.

7 -- Pelican - The Fire in our Throats will Beckon the Thaw

Jaw-dropping instrumental rock-outs. More atmospheric than their first record and considerably more accomplished. Loud, rocking music for just about anyone.

6 -- Maritime - We, the Vehicles

Another semi-cheat, this isn't released here yet, but it was released in Japan and in the UK back in the fall. This is Davey from the Promise Ring's new band. Honestly, this record pretty much achieves the perfect balance between that dark indie sound and gorgeous pop. Great lyrics, melodies, instrumentation and song-writing. 'Tearing Up the Oxygen' is a ridiculous song.

5 -- Four Tet - Everything Ecstatic

Less accessible and pretty than his earlier stuff, this record is still a must own. These electro-acoustic compositions are much more expansive, dense and complex. Lots of jazzy beats and interesting melodies. Stuff to shake 'yo ass to. 'Smile Around the Face' is the ultimate cheer-up song.

4 -- Thrice - Vheissu

Say what you will about this band, they've released one of the best records this year, and one of the best rock records of the past five years. Amazing songwriting, production, playing and innovation, this is one of the most remarkable cases of a band maturing and honing their craft. The songs come off sounding as a mix of Quicksand, meets Cave-In, meets Radiohead, with a small dash of Isis. Seriously, great. Oh, and I can't move on without mentionning the quality of the lyrics and writing: really inspired, eloquent and inventive.

3 -- Propagandhi - Potemkin City Limits

Simply a jaw-dropping record. Intense, perfectly-written and played, uncompromising and most importantly just plain rockin'. The boys have released the best record of their career and a watershed record for rock n' roll, period. Once again, all of this is without mentionning the lyrics. Amazingly complex, insightful, witty and pertinent. Seriously, this gets my highest recommendation.

2 -- Minus the Bear - Menos El Oso

Easily toppling Highly Refined Pirates, this record has absolutely amazing compositions. Every song has its own distinct mood and everyone of them is a joy to listen to. Just fun, complex, dancy indie rock. Definitely, the record that's received the most spins in my cd player this year.

1 -- Thelonious Monk and John Coltrane - Live at Carnegie Hall

What can be said about this? Two of the most influential players ever (and coincidentally my two favorite) caught at the pinnacle of their collaboration, Coltrane viciously feeding off of Monk's compositions, the results are just electric and ridiculously exciting. The sound quality is top notch too. It's a miracle that this was unearthed. Too cool.

Wow, that was exhaustive. Okay I'm out for tonight, I need the rest. Cheers and take care all.