person

birthday skype chat

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

(the Walrus and the Carpenter)

this is love. twenty four.

ma mere c'est ici, dans la blogue du Lemon Hound

http://lemonhound.blogspot.com/2011/04/marilyn-bowering-introduces-elizabeth.html

love affair with a typewriter

Seaweed, what else

Seaweed from Tell No One on Vimeo.

RAAAAAAD

not sure what to make of the video.. green screen for sure but pretty fun stuff. not a single flyaway. lucky guy. i'm torn between hating paul oakenfold for touching the doors, and loving him for giving LA woman such a sick spin. the guy's a hack, but from time to time he can a mix a good tune.

D'EON

This deserves a little attention: D'Eon remixed by HYPE Williams and he hasn't even released his debut album yet. yessssss.

http://www.factmag.com/2010/09/30/get-slow-with-hype-williams-remix-of-hippos-in-tanks-artist-deon/

(direct link to remix: HERE)

summer was...

Today is lucrative:

I would rather admit that I'm leaving you for a wombat than admit that I'm wrong.

we are two skeletons in solidarity, bare and waiting for the winter's freeze--it's quiet as we tuck ourselves into the snow, the long night coming over us like a blanket of dying leaves.

(from moments when i think i'm alone)

December To Do.

1. go surfing (learn to surf) in tofino.

2. ski washington on the way back.

3. on the same day.

tehe

0078h

hey summer,

it's

three o'clock in the morning and that thing that's keeping me awake, it's anger. why anger so late? my mind is churning with questions you can't answer. no one can, yet i'm asking them like i need the answers. maybe i'm hung up on the past, consumed by the notion of missing out on something so massive...maybe i regret not knowing you better--not seeing you when you were around: you aren't anymore. i feel unworthy of missing you. you weren't mine to lose.. but in a way you were. i didn't know you at all, but in so many ways i knew you completely. reading these lines you threw together from memories and love, and a conversation we had in your parlour a few autumns ago.. i'm starkly aware of how well you knew me. how little i had to give to be seen: to see. maybe i'm angry that i can't go anywhere to talk to you. no park, or bench or stone or beach... nothing was sacred like that and nothing has been allowed to remain as such. you aren't even near your home anymore--the only place i remember knowing you. you were taken back with such vehement haste we didn't even see you leave. i'm angry because i tried so, so hard to see you, but i know i could have tried harder. i knew this was it.. and yet, i held on to that hope that it wasn't. why didn't i try harder? why didn't i insist and say i must, i must! i knew that i must, and i let myself down. worse. i let you down. am i even allowed to miss you? i wouldn't dare speak it aloud, but maybe here you'll find me. maybe i can talk to you somehow and let you know that the greatest regret i have is not having one more conversation, one more drink, one more laugh with you.

got published. finally. ish.

http://www.thefader.com/2010/08/23/deon-cruel-new-decade-mix/

saw a train, set the night on fire.

listening to Whitey..

..and half running half hiking up Mount Royal from home, down low on Notre Dame...up, up to the top where tourists film static scenes of city doing nothing but those things that cities do... and all the way down turning back up to different heights, sheltered amongst trees in a grove quiet from the prying screams of children and tourist bunches, and back down along wooded, dirt trails, tripping on roots and coming too close to spider webs wrapped tightly between branches; reaching crumbling stone stairs that used to be the way up before the glistening banisters and raw wood steps became the path to go along... all the way down near the streets, hearing the cars but not seeing them, taking a left turn instead of a right, reaching more crumbling stone stairs but these ones have an ancient maple tree strewn across their way, climbing through the branches and down more steps until, a fence. fighting through spider web lattice to climb up six feet and drop eight down to the last two stone steps, and a road.
...and further down, a sign outside St. Paul's Cathedral read, 'Organ Recital' and that too, I couldn't resist.

overheard

..but, it's our responsibility to be intelligently crippled.