and they fall into the sea

Mixplay

2007-02-26T23:30:00.000-05:00

....and beats

2007-02-17T20:33:00.001-05:00

Drums...

2007-02-17T20:32:00.001-05:00

wow

2007-02-16T21:50:00.001-05:00

Doll Face

2007-02-16T20:06:00.000-05:00

2007 Zeitgeist Ranking

2007-01-18T16:53:00.000-05:00

1. Los Angeles

A controversial choice? Sure it's big, but LA is finally hitting on all cylinders: fashion, tech, entertainment, and overall groove. American Apparel is changing fashion with vertically integrated manufacturing. LA's skull and bones indie rock fashion dominates globally. Myspace culture is taken for granted, everywhere. New walking areas and urban regeneration projects, from downtown to Malibu to Hollywood, make the city much more palatable than before, despite the endless crush of traffic. Entourage and other shows, from the OC (while over, which started it) to Laguna Beach, have moved the collective consciousness west. All in this and more help make LA the city of the moment: the energy is positive, its power is on the rise, and people everywhere have LA on their mind.

2. Berlin

As contemporary art begins to dominate the mainstream, Berlin has emerged as the identity for a fun young Europe. With Merkel putting Germany on the mend and the World Cup of 2006 having shone the spotlight on the city, Berlin has spiffed up - a lot. Real estate is booming, but there is still an undercurrent of gritty, rough urban experimentalism that resembles London during its moment. It's rough, but richer. So hot its nearly establishment, but not quite yet, which makes it a serious contender for the top spot.

3. Mumbai

The center of global attention seems to have shifted off China and onto India, and Mumbai (or as we should say outside, Bombay) is the hot spot in India. Its mix of Bollywood and technology lend well to the Youtube era, and the rich, infectious Indian attitude is becoming a global cultural force. The clubbing in Mumbai continues to improve, but its the people who make it - the sense of optimism here dominates.
4. Istanbul

Somehow Istanbul has managed to balance its location with style and grace. Those in the know swear by the city, with its speedy speed boats on the Bosphorous, continually improving scene tempered by an ingrained respect for Islamic tradition. Istanbul is about the only place where Christian and Muslim seem to blend to create a sum greater than their parts - it is evocative of the world we want, and a symbol of where a truly global world can co-exist.

5. London

London is about to overtake New York in some areas of the financial world. On constant alert, it remains confident and open, unlike the American attitude. One of the most expensive cities in the world, it has come to dominate the international cultural life, and remains a center of the world in wide areas of business. London can feel a bit stale at times but its power is omnipresent, like New York before 911.

6. Buenos Aires

So hot! The Argentinian financial crisis has faded, but the incredible value of Argentina as a destination remains. This is fueling a buying boom in urban real estate as Europeans and North Americans establish summer homes and secondary residences here. Business remains slow, but BA is the hot spot of Latin America. Panama and Sao Paolo have heat, but BA sizzles. It's the hottest "second city" in the world.

7. Beijing

Beijing's big Olympic moment is not until next year, so the city feels like it is totally under construction. But its a wonderful moment for creative development and business risk taking in China's capital. Beijing always had a stronger underground feel than neighbor Shanghai, which has soaked up much of China's glory lately, but Beijing is very interesting - it is a cultural crucible in a darker, more definite way than Shanghai, and while quieter, its architectural projects, from the new CCTV tower to the Olympic bird nest stadium, are teeing up the city for its big moment to come.

8. Dubai

Sure, it's a giant construction zone. Sure, the Palm is sinking and traffic is a nightmare. But Dubai is finally attracting the international professional elite in a serious way, and that's a very recent development. The city feels a bit like Hong Kong 20 years ago - where opportunity calls for young people hungry for a hit. One & Only, Jumeriah, and even the W are transforming the city into a sleek holiday party town, and despite the alcohol restrictions, it offers a different, more positive vision of the Middle East than is commonly accepted. It may be crass, but this city of the future is evocative.

9. New York

The big apple has its stride back, but it has been so sanitized that the cultural revival of the city feels as if it has been outsourced to Brooklyn. But Brooklyn is still part of New York, and New York still dominates in advertising, finance and international business. This hub of hubs seems to be following the leader - in architecture, in culture, and in innovation, but it is still completely critical for processing other advances into the mainstream, and as the city moves farther from its 911 nightmare, sprouts of change are seen... from the revival of the speakeasy to a sudden interest in poetry and drama to the new dominance of the Lower East Side over Meatpacking. One hopes that NYC can survive its own mallification.
10. Geneva

Geneva is an odd selection but here for a very real reason. Much of what people in hub culture have been talking about lately involves a search for authenticity - this rebellion against mass consumer culture and cookie-cutter cities. Quiet, laid back Geneva is just what it claims to be, and it is not trying to be much else. It's authentic and original, a city that refuses to go with the global grain. Somehow Geneva is evocative of this sense of authenticity, and deserves recognition. It is very in, without trying to be. Perhaps it is the fact that wealth is always in, and Geneva is certainly wealthy, but in an era of shouting from everywhere, Geneva's quiet reserve stands it in good stead.

So, that's the top 10... and following are the rest of the top 20 - cities that for various reasons stand out - from Shanghai's frenetic pace to Seoul's growing confidence and tech leadership (Cyworld cometh!), San Francisco's new role in Energy, Tokyo's rising yen, Hong Kong's outlying growth, Sydney's easy pace, Seattle's growing philanthropic leadership, Mexico D.F - so big and so crazy, and Rome - strangely hot after years of neglect.

11. Shanghai

12. Seoul

13. San Francisco

14. Tokyo

15. Hong Kong

16. Sydney

17. Seattle

18. Moscow

19. Rome

20. Mexico City

***(c/o of hubculture.com)***

ringing in 2007...sideways...

2007-01-02T23:03:00.001-05:00

La Jetée

2006-12-30T15:06:00.000-05:00

a truly amazing film...

2006-12-22T03:02:00.000-05:00

munch munch munch

i likes this muchly. g'night all...

johnny v.

braindead? Help is on the Zzz

2006-12-15T16:27:00.000-05:00

2006-12-13T14:18:00.000-05:00

Jack the Ritzer

well jack, i have to say the internet is filled with wondrous things...love johnny

alice in helterskelterland

2006-11-30T19:32:00.000-05:00

...pauvre monsieur benji-ramps IV...
hang in there, notre ami!

the beginning of something good

2006-11-19T22:31:00.000-05:00

and i look forward to more...

the legend of woodpecker

2006-10-08T12:58:00.000-04:00

Jumping mouse has courage, big heart and sharp eyes. But the grooviest one of all goes by the name of woodpecker.

Woodpecker was a small and graceful bird. Each afternoon, she cleared bark from a tree in order to eat the scarlet wippercaps that lived beneath. Because of her delicate claws, this was a long process. By the time she had fed, the sun had slipped behind the line of blue hills to the west. And when she got home, the moon was high into the sky, directly overhead the Gnarled, Leaping Pungee Forest.
In the mornings she was most content. She was an avid collector of all things red: butterfly wings from the forest floor, slivers of sunrise, blood flowers and very rarely, the eyelash of a drooping lilac bird. She could contentedly pass five or six hours in a slow combing of the forest’s canopy for such treasures. It was only after half the day had passed like this that she conceded hunger and began the monotonous process of peeling away bark.
It was during an unexceptional afternoon that she first caught sight of an unusual and exotic creature, a bird that seemed to hover suspended in midair like a cartoon or apparition. Woodpecker drew her face away from the tree on which she was perched and stared directly at the fascinating creature. He was the size of a ripe fir cone, speckled with brilliant blue patches and sharp of eye. What caught her attention above all was his habit of darting from place to place. Just when she had him in her sight, he would momentarily disappear, then reappear somewhere else. He seemed to have no wings, just a tiny sleek body, and a long sharp beak. Woodpecker cocked her head to one side and said the only thing she could think of:
“Are you a wizard? You float in the air and move faster than the Spring Winds.”
At this, the small bird shot eye to eye with Woodpecker and gave a broad smile.
“Why, my friend, have you truly never met one of my brothers and sisters? For
while we do move quickly, we are not shy creatures.”
“No, no”, responded Woodpecker, “I would surely remember having met one of
your kind. You are a new and strange bird. Tell me, what is your name?”
Here the small bird gave three soft chirps of delight and answered,
“Woodpecker, for that must be who you are with your fine red coat, I am
Hummingbird. It is a pleasure to meet you at last. I have heard much of your
generous nature. Tell me, what are you doing, and what do you do? Why are you clawing that tree? Do tell.”
“Why,” replied woodpecker, “although it is dry and tedious work, claw I
must, for I live on the scarlet wippercaps that live just under this bark. I would much prefer, if the choice were mine, to spend my time in other, more fruitful, ways. For I have a great love of collecting all things red that shine.”
Hummingbird said nothing. The leaves on the forest floor tumbled amongst themselves, and the late afternoon sunlight skitted through the high branches and onto his sharp face. Suddenly, he shot straight up into the highest reaches of the forest canopy, then re-appeared upside down on Woodpecker’s left.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, staring into confused Woodpecker’s face. “I have been thinking, and I have decided something very important. For I too appreciate the importance of collecting beauty, though I have developed a fondness not for red, but for dew. Did you know that there is a great diversity in the realm of dew? Each season, each flower, and each time of day produces its own distinct flavour. A winter morning’s dew on an orchid’s petal is much more refined than that found on a summer’s evening. And an orchid’s flavour is completely unlike that of a dandelion.”
Here Hummingbird re-appeared at Woodpecker’s right ear: right-side up and wearing a serious expression.
“Have you always eaten wippercaps?”
“Yes,” replied Woodpecker, for she always had.
“Why?” asked Hummingbird.
To this Woodpecker had no immediate response.
“It’s what my parents did, and all the other woodpeckers I know eat them.”
Now Hummingbird did a sort of dance in the air in front of her and he whistled high and clear.
“So, you’ve never tried eating anything else, have you? Not seeds, or nuts, or
fern hearts, and certainly not winter morning’s locus dew, or you’d remember it straight away. How would you feel about trying something new this afternoon, something that you’ve never, ever tried before.”
Woodpecker simply stared with her face cocked to one side. Her feathers rustled and she blinked twice. Hummingbird’s intrusion into the afternoon had distracted her. The mention of food reminded her of her empty belly.
“Well,” she said timidly, “as I say, I’ve never tried any of those things. But I
might be convinced if you happen to have something with you.”
“Oh no,” replied Hummingbird, “never with me. The wonderful foods I
mentioned are scattered freely throughout the forest: some on branches, some under logs, and some in the places in between. There is no need to carry anything around with me… You look healthy. Surely you have the energy to come on a small adventure. Look, the sun is still high above us. Where shall we go first? Let’s see. The velvet lichen tears are fantastic this fall, and there happens to be a fine assortment just down the way, past the Smooth Pebble Beds, close to Grandfather Lightning Stump. Come!”
And with that, he was gone. Woodpecker blinked twice more & pulled her wings over her ears, but she did not move. For she had no idea where Hummingbird was. He was simply too fast. Then to the left, she heard his voice.
“Over here! Surely you know where the Smooth Pebble Beds lie!”
And with a long inhale of lazy white air, Woodpecker took flight and headed towards the voice. It wasn’t far to the pebble beds, and when she arrived, she found Hummingbird resting on a large stone in midstream.
“There are some lovely thistles just over there, but you don’t seem like much of a
thistle-eater. No, we’d best continue on to the velvet lichen tears. They’re very close.”
Once more he was gone. But this time, Woodpecker didn’t wait for encouragement. She knew where Grandfather Lightening Stump lived. Without delay, she swung to the left and surfed a gentle breeze through the Elm Tunnel, past the sleeping raspberries, until there it was, the oldest stump in the forest. And to its left grew a thick patch of fresh velvet lichens with Hummingbird dozing in their midst. Woodpecker settled onto the soft ground and nudged him with her brow.
“Well, here I am. What do we do? I’ve never eaten lichen dew before. Do we
eat their petals? My grandmother warned me not to eat the colour purple, and though these lichens seem more like blue, I’d rather be sure.”
Hummingbird didn’t respond. He slowly opened his eyes and thoughtfully rolled his neck from side to side. And then he did the strangest thing. He looked Woodpecker straight in the eye, winked, and then plunged his entire head into the nearest nectar cup. Woodpecker watched for several moments, then asked,
“Can woodpeckers do that sort of thing?”
But Hummingbird was oblivious to her words. In fact, his head was so completely enveloped within a succulent lichen that he could not hear her at all.

Woodpecker sat still for a moment. She sniffed the air and she listened to her belly. Then cautiously and very slowly, she sidled up towards a medium-sized lilac. It had six petals, each of which tapered out from a central base. Rising up in their midst was an impossibly slender tendril, deep black with three beads of dew clinging to its crown. She looked once again at Hummingbird, whose head was still invisible, and then she lowered her beak. A bitter scent rose to meet her and she paused. She could not reach the beads with her tongue as woodpeckers are not made for such things: their beaks are much too long. With all her courage, she snapped down upon the stigma, and immediately squawked and fell backwards onto the ground
“That’s not food! It’s horrible!” she wailed.
She tucked her head under her wing and began to rock back and forth. At the sound of this commotion, Hummingbird pulled his head out into the open and shot to her side. He rubbed her back with his brow, then said,
“Not for woodpeckers.... Who would have thought that woodpeckers don’t like
velvet lichen tears? And a bunch as fine as these.”
He lay flat on his back and stared up past the highest branches in the forest. He was silent. The only sounds in the clearing were the gentle weeping of tired and hungry Woodpecker, and the high whisperings of the elms.
Just at that moment, a silver mushroom decided to drink from the creek. It walked directly between the two birds, rotting footsteps silent over the wet earth. But just short of the creek, it stumbled over a dried apple seed and crunched to a halt. Hummingbird’s ears caught the sound. He rolled to his feet and nudged Woodpecker in the ribs.
“One more try. One more try. I’ll find you something to lend your belly
warmth.”
Woodpecker raised her head slightly and looked into Hummingbird’s eyes.
“Nothing bitter. Promise.”
Hummingbird shot to his feet and motioned towards the mushroom, which was running quickly now, silver cap leaning hard forward.
“Try that. A silver mushroom. I promise you’ll never go back to clawing through
rough bark again. Be quick. They move faster then they look.”
Woodpecker hesitated for only a moment, then lunged forward. But the mushroom saw her coming and veered left with amazing speed. Woodpecker struck the dirt hard and lodged a puff of dust up into the air. She missed once more by a wing’s length before the mushroom disappeared beneath a decayed branch. However, she had gotten close enough to catch its smell.

“What a wonderful scent: round and heavy.”
Hummingbird rose into the air and settled onto the back of her neck.
“Those are wonderful. No doubt about that, but I think they may be a
little too fast for you. There’s something else that tastes similar, even sweeter at times. They live in hollow trees. A very sleepy creature and much slower. I’m sure you’d have no difficulty catching one.”
Woodpecker flapped her wings and glided over to a nearby cedar. She sniffed its roots, then its trunk, and then stared intently into its highest branches. She turned back to Hummingbird, who was hovering at her left ear.
“They don’t live outside. They’re inside these trees, and deeper in than the
food you’re used to. But don’t worry. I have an idea.”
He settled down onto the nearest branch.
“Tell me, Woodpecker. Have you ever considered using your beak for more than
simply talking? Your claws are certainly beautiful but they’re just not sharp enough to get through this sticky cedar bark.”
Woodpecker looked down at her claws, then opened and closed her beak several times. She had always been rather shy about her beak: it was, in her opinion, too long and rough looking. She looked out past Hummingbird and pretended to see something interesting back by the lilac beds.
“There’s no need to feel uncomfortable about something as fine as your beak,”
said Hummingbird. “In fact, I believe you are not fully aware of just how wonderful beaks can be when used wisely. Will you trust me one more time? There is something I can teach you if you’re willing to listen.”
Woodpecker nodded once and looked back at the tiny bird. Hummingbird grinned a wide grin and asked,
“Have you ever heard of the Humming Drums?”
“No.”
“Neither have I. Well, I have heard of them. But only woodpeckers can actually
hear the Humming Drums. Hummingbirds such as myself are gifted with a fine sense of rhythm; our dancing is famous throughout the northern forests. But we simply cannot hear what you can. Once you learn the potential of your fabulous beak, you’ll dine on delicacies forevermore. It won’t be easy,” he warned. “Before you learn to hear the Humming Drums, you will grow very hungry and very tired. You may want to give up. Can you accept such difficulty Woodpecker?”
She sat on the damp grass, and looked up into the tops of the trees. A thick cloud rolled over their heads. She turned back to Hummingbird.
“Listen carefully. There is a magical stone a half-day’s flight from here.
I can guide you to it. If you spend five days and five nights upon the stone you will learn its magic. I cannot stay with you. You must be alone. During that time, you must not open your eyes. Deep within you are the Humming Drums. If you maintain silence, they will grow louder and louder until they gradually bleed into your waking thoughts.”
He smiled gently, then closed his eyes and rolled into a ball at Woodpecker’s side.
“Tonight, sleep soundly for tomorrow is an important day.”
Woodpecker pressed her wing against his back. As she fell into sleep, the stars flashed in and out of the high branches.

Before daylight crept into the clearing, the two were wakened by the songs of Bluejay: a sad and buttery melody of lost treasures and midnight dances. Hummingbird arched his shoulders behind his neck, called back a soft song, then took to the air in a flash of blue. Woodpecker took a deep inhale of sharp morning air, then leapt up behind him into the grey light. This time, Hummingbird stayed at her side, and they flew wing to wing until the sun was high overhead. They past the Trickly Scrub Pines and the Salaal Emporium. They skirted along the forest’s edge where purple grasslands stretched out for miles and miles. And they dropped into Marigold Gully, where, years before, the flowers had risen up against the Badger Clan and claimed the Crystal Pools for their own. In the deepest folds of this chasm, they finally came to the magical stone of Gnarled Forest.

It was much smaller then Woodpecker had imagined, and layered in a thick variety of multi-coloured lichens. All around it grew twisted vines that crept up its sides and threatened to engulf it completely.
“Is this the stone?” she asked.
Hummingbird nodded and hovered over its centre.
“I will return in five days. Rest on this stone. You will be amazed by what it will show you.”
Then suddenly, she was alone, in a part of the forest that was strange and unknown. But though she was tired, a great excitement beat in her chest.
“Stone. You are my bed and home.”
And with these words, she settled onto its cold surface and closed her eyes.

Three days passed in gentle procession and Woodpecker found herself more and more aware of the tiny sounds and scrapes and screaks surrounding her. True to Hummingbird’s instruction, she kept her eyes closed night and day, and moved as little as possible. On the fourth morning, she first noticed a low buzzing in the air. She desired to look out, to see what caused the sound. But she fought the urge and concentrated solely on the sound itself. Throughout the morning, as the sun grew warmer, the buzzing grew slowly louder. But now that she could hear it more clearly, it seemed less a buzzing than a choir of soft voices. They droned together in perfect tone as if orchestrated by the Tunnel Wind itself. By sundown, she was sure that were she to open her eyes but one crack, she would see a vast congregation of leprechauns all about her.
For the first time in four days, sleep did not tempt her as the moon’s soft and milky beams kissed her face. For she imagined something wonderful growing out of the layers of voices. She could hear the accents of individual heartbeats within the chorus. There was no order or pattern, but each pulse was clear and distinct.
On the morning of the fifth day, something remarkable happened. As the first branches of sunlight began to sparkle on her folded wings, the heartbeats within the song began to align. One by one, each joined the slowly growing pulse that beat directly through the centre of the song. Woodpecker had never experienced such a sound. She arched her spine against the stone, and stretched her legs as far out as she could. Soon there was only one beat, slow, but strong enough to make her eyelashes and feathers rattle.
All night she lay and listened to the beautiful song. It grew no louder, but sank deeper and deeper into her bones until they shook on every pulse. No other sound existed.

By this point, Woodpecker was utterly enveloped within the music. When Hummingbird drifted to her side and whispered,
“Good morning, friend,”
her eyes shot open without a thought. She immediately shut them tight again, for even the soft light of morning seemed sharp. Only after several moments did she open one just wide enough to see.
“Hummingbird. The most wonderful thing happened to me while you were
away.”
She looked to her left, her right, in front and behind. And her eyes opened wide now, for the music was still as loud as before but there was no sight of any choir or orchestra.
“Can you hear? What is making that wonderful noise? I want to thank whoever it
is. Whatever creature is gifted with such a fine voice?”
Hummingbird smiled one of his great, broad smiles.
“The creature that makes such beautiful music, Woodpecker, is you. You have
learned to hear the Humming Drums.”
Woodpecker opened her mouth then shut it and looked behind herself once again.
“I make this music? But I have never sung such a fine song.”
“The Humming Drums were a gift to all woodpeckers long ago. All of
you may hear this music. All you must do is give it a chance to rise up above your day to day thoughts… Do you remember, I spoke earlier of your fine and skilful beak?”
Woodpecker nodded.
“It is time for a feast worthy of this occasion.”
He gestured to his right, then took to the air. Woodpecker fumbled over the stone and landed in the ancient vines.
“Come, come. You’ll soon have your strength back,” called Hummingbird.
She untangled her claws from the grasping vines, then leapt upwards. Though stiff from lack of use, her wings were very pleased to be air-borne once again. They carried her up and out of the gully, into a fresh mist that spoke of maple and rust. On the ridge grew a young cedar. She settled next to Hummingbird on one of its branches, and he motioned towards the trunk.
“You'll find especially tasty caterpillars in a tree this young; it's a fine place to practice. Relax. Now roll your head from side to side. Excellent. Now, here is the fun part. Close your eyes and concentrate on the song you hear. Imagine that you are back on Magic Stone with not a thought weighing on your mind.”
Woodpecker closed her eyes and swayed her head from left to right, until it seemed she might topple from the branch. Hummingbird held his breath for a moment, then whispered in her ear,
“Follow the Humming Drums, my friend. Listen to their rhythm. Now join in.
Strike the tree-trunk with your beak.”
Woodpecker didn’t hesitate. She struck the bark twice and glanced off both times. But on the third attack, her beak sunk neatly into the wood and slid deep into its soft underbelly. Her eyes opened in surprise. She sat perfectly still, her beak fully lodged within the tree, and her eyes less than a feather’s width from its trunk.
Hummingbird laughed out loud and called to Raven and Bluejay.
“Feathered friends of the forest, come and see what our sister Woodpecker has
learned! She has heard the Humming Drums!”
By the time the other birds arrived, Woodpecker had freed her beak, and had in fact caught three plump caterpillars. She sat proudly at Hummingbird’s side.
From that day on, she never used her claws to strip bark again. And she learned that, true to Hummingbird’s word, she did much prefer the taste of caterpillars rather than wippercaps. In time, she learned to hunt all the wonderful varieties in even the thickest trees in the Gnarled Forest. True, the older trees demanded patience, but as long as she followed the inner music, no bark was too thick. So next time you find yourself in Woodpecker’s forest, pay attention to even the smallest sounds. You just might hear her playing along with the Humming Drums.

jumping

2006-10-04T10:29:00.000-04:00

perhaps not as high as we thought...but still pretty damn high...2.09 metres is 6.86 feet!

World Record Holder:

2.09

Stefka Kostadinova

Bulgaria

Rome

August 30, 1987

(but she's no, jumping mouse...)

The Green Mountain State

2006-09-22T11:53:00.000-04:00

o ms. rosie b., one johnny v. and the lovely meesh & trik gathered in a rented hertz in the early hours of a bright beautiful sunnyday morning, the weekend last, and set off for a day's adventures south of the border. after a brief antique shopstop en route to the crossing, we arrived at a teeny line-up to Cross Over and babbled about how to keep our fruit...les bananes passed, but les oranges were confiscated. trik offered many sweet details about his arm ink experiences and fondness for forests...and we parked just o'er tha gates to feast on our yellow-cased fruits. with no real plan made for the day, we pulled over to the info/rest/visit station for a cup of stale java + maps + guidance through the lovely state of VERMONT.

ah yes, Vermont, the green mountain state - a place home to cheese, cider, and world-famous bad-ass sunglass-wearing tattoooed teddy bears:

don't mess wit' em. for real son. well we got a rough route leading us through mountain towns, through colour shifting leafy valleys, and on toward the buzzing breakfast metropolis of Jeffersonville...on our way, though, we found a strange yard sale assortment of goods for sale including: boxes of naked barbie dolls, boxes of potato chips, and a verrry nice ol' wurlitzer organ...which trik & i plonked upon & then debated avec les ladies whether or not it would fit into the trunk. consensus reached: it wouldn't, though we hoped we'd make a later discovery of cheapy vintagey gear. mmm hmm. before we knewed it, we wuz in jeffersonville. the Bakery cafe was filled with bikers and college kids and the kitchen ran out of food...and when Johnny & Trik asked for another place to go 'n eat...we was mistaken for locals! yeehoo. a fine happenin'. wethinks it twas his hat and my beard - or maybe our scruffy shirts. well, we hauled it all the way cross town to the Smuggs Inn where we manged way-creamy hollandaise and monolithic farmer's breakfast delights...

but we knew we'd find finer delights later on, so off we continued down vermont's sunny roads, admiring the leaves and loving being out à la campagne...we weaved and wound our way round to a very inviting looking mountain - where we parked the vehicule and clambered over the wet rocks and up the busy, muddy trail. at the top of the hike we found a lovely mini-lake (=pond) and sat on large flat stones amongst the sweaty hikers. round a bend or two to a higher path we came upon a ski lift and climbed atop it to see what we could see. apparently on clear days you can see montreal from there! well. we couldn't, but it were a bee-oo-tiful vista, to be certain.

with an appetite for sweet earned from our hasty descent, we ambled back to the car and along the twisty roads through the town of Stowe, passing old gabled houses with wide expansive porchs and babbling postcard-perfect brooks, to our friendly mid-route destination: the Cold Hollow Cider Hill

situated just behind an idyllic front garden with comfy porch swings and ultracomfortable hand-carved wooden deck chairs...the cider mill was full of both tasty deeelights and full of many tooourist types (us not included of course)...but we manged the best o' the best:

delicious cider donuts

and warm mugs o' the finest vermont apple cider...

we lounged for moments as the afternoon sun basked us in golden...then shtuffed and satiated the 'Retha Franklin was cranked on the stereo and we did zoom on down that highway feelin' like a natural woman...

our next stop were an overload of many kinds. indeed, the Ben & Jerry's Factory offered various flavours & photos & 30 minute 30 dollar (!?) tours...but as we roamed in the front lobby/giftshop debating the relative merits and failings of factory tours, we espied through a plexiglass window, down a hall filled with plaques and photos of past B&J success, a sinister ice factory spectacle. this was no ice cream room, it was a flavour mixing laboratory. there were drawers labelled with chemicals and additives, a box brimming with used syringes, a huge 2-handeled machete-like knife lying a top a counter, a periodic table of the elements...and, most startingly, a notebook:no, but not just any notebook. this one bore the ominous title: MEIN KAMPF - Confessions of a 2nd Shift Mix Maker. in disbelief i stared at it for minutes before calling the others over to see if it was indeed real. it looked as though it could have been placed there on purpose, almost on display, but this were far too strange a symbol to leave & let wandering eyes discover. we did not take that tour that day. but Trik still munched 3 x fancy flavours. and the factory staff placed bets on where we were from. consensus: NYC or MTL. go figure. no chance at being mistooken for les locales.

back on the freeway, free of fancyfactorylands, we hit the big town o' Burlington as the sun dripped into the overlooking lake.

out of the car we marched down the town's fleur-de-lis lined streets, johnny looking for a quickbite, trik & meesh leapin' from the carefully place rocks adorning either side of the cobblestone walkways. after sketchy pfetzeling on a dreadlockedpita, we hit the dark road back north, with French Kicks melodies filling the car, and began a lengthy discussion of fave discs, albums, songs, and moments in our own music histories...the border crossed with barely a glance or a minute lost, and the return to the glass and skyhigh lights of Mont Royal mediated by a perfect constellation of sounds...

i like road trips.
and holidays.

xo johnny.

on seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful april morning

2006-09-19T18:57:00.000-04:00

Buildings from The Future

2006-09-16T22:37:00.000-04:00

How To Have A Number One The Easy Way

2006-09-16T22:32:00.000-04:00

and it's all right here...

banksy vs. mickey

2006-09-16T22:09:00.001-04:00

A life-size replica of a Guantanamo Bay detainee was placed in Disneyland...

this is becoming a bit of a recurring theme.
once again, thanks banksy.

xo johnny

Simplicity, maturity, and resolve

2006-09-14T23:16:00.000-04:00

Chris Ott, in the Village Voice, writes:

"Over the last few years, my peers in pop criticism have celebrated the dourest, most difficult or deranged music they can find. In the anxious universe of early adoption, we seem to have decided that complexity and severity equal authenticity: We need to prove we "get" the death-dirge apocalypso fusion of Bowie/Byrne protégés TV on the Radio and the Arcade Fire, and the ill- defined nihilism of Deerhoof. But rather than question what these musicians are moaning about—and more to the point, whether their tangible conceits are sound—critics uniformly punt, hiding behind a cloud of subservient hyperbole. They are all "impossible to describe," "genre- defying," "miraculous," and "completely original" if you believe Rolling Stone, the New York Times, and . . . MSNBC. Not only do the aforementioned bands hail from an established lineage, they are ultimately descended from the same progenitor, and are all shooting for the conceptual moon, which leaves critics a larger slate.

Simplicity, maturity, and resolve are abhorrent qualities now, polarized to pointlessness as hokey Springsteen nostalgia—the deplorable new Killers album, Canada's overripe working-class romantics the Constantines, or cloying pastiche like Sufjan Stevens. You don't hear stoic rock songs—classic rock, blues rock, even powerpop—about love and loss and wonder anymore, by singers who acknowledge their mistakes and move on. Rather we wallow in petulant regret, holding our cuts open, staring bug-eyed at the blood, never realizing that shock is a form of paralysis."

i think there's a whole lotta truthiness here. do you agree?

xo j.v.

it's a fine line

2006-09-13T12:38:00.000-04:00

between hot hair and hat hair ...

time for a new lid

2006-09-11T17:17:00.000-04:00

here's what i'm thinking for a fall hair do... qu'est-ce que tu penses?

The world can see what you listen to.

2006-09-11T00:11:00.000-04:00

does anyone else remember my ICRS idea from way back when? apparently someone's taken up the fight in my absence...now you can "discover people through music and music through people" as easy as this:

MOG.com

and what the hell's a mog-o-sphere...

damnit. just let me rate my friends based on their indie credibility.

love johnny

thank you, banksy

2006-09-05T12:11:00.000-04:00

J & B = 7 of hearts

2006-08-04T10:42:00.000-04:00

well well well...

it most certainly be time to celebrate this most lucky of annum's joined twixt & truly through their hearts & minds...

yes, our very own sweet Juniper and dearest BenjaminIV hath held hands and murmured heart-stringed melodies in soft embrace for a full and gentle 7 turns of the calendar year...

and since passing out of the realm six, you'll see you've entered a time filled with many emblems of luck & joy....

S E V E N

- The number of colors of the rainbow
- The number of notes in the musical scale
- The number of points on a sheriff's star
- The number of spots on a ladybug
- The number of objects in the solar system visible to the naked eye — the Sun, the Moon and the five classical naked eye planets: Mars, Mercury, Jupiter, Venus, and Saturn.

we celebrate you!
we wish you sevenhundredfold more luckytimes of seven seen together!
and we love you very much.

xo johnny v. & lady brooklyn

The Knife

2006-06-26T21:08:00.000-04:00

Though jose gonzales' cover rendition of The Knife's "Heartbeats" doesn't conjure up dreams of skateboarding youngsters and hot pavement in the Summer, the video for the original sure does. "sharing different heartbeats in one night." what a swell idea.

(markets won't save us)

2006-06-25T22:04:00.000-04:00

on adverts: 'according to the imagery of ads, the most common site of happiness and freedom is the private space of the home, where, presumably, one is empowered to shape one's life (often by altering one's body). But other times and places - vacation time, travel - are equally targeted. Indeed, as advertising depicts it, society is no more than the sum total of individual buyers in search of beauty, comfort, and status through the consumption of commoditites, and freedom is no more than the right of preference, that of one brand over another. as a TV ad once put it, "Soon America will have a real choice: the new taste of Coke or the original taste of Coca-Cola classic."'

to my lovely across the sea/ cliches belong to lovers

2006-06-10T19:25:00.000-04:00

last night's Black Angels show (attended with friends Pytr, Boulanger, and MankyPants), was good fun albeit, an inadequate precursor to tonight's show. could anything touch the solid magic that's about to erupt? "do you remember the first time?" on the miniscus of a cliff, showered by the most sublime sunset at the Gorge(ous) Ampitheatre, Radiohead hit the stage. an ecstatically surreal experience, we were tear-stricken and spiritualized like a cult of teenagers being hit by an angel's voice. qui a besoin de religion? i found Radiohead. i found you.* awww, what else is there? light glowing bright inside and bursting outside of me. i float. i float. ha ha! it all happens again tonight. (astoundingly, enchantingly!) and again the night after that. and every night from here on where i, the luckiest girl ever, get to love you. radioheadingly? hee hee. - everything in its right place.

6 6 6 = the devil (or écoute Slayer) ?

2006-06-06T11:52:00.000-04:00

me, i think the latter is in order,
on this hot june 6 6 6 day...
http://www.nationaldayofslayer.org/

to the one dandy b & the lady j.g.

2006-05-23T11:33:00.000-04:00

o where o where
o can we get there?
the sparkles are sparkling
but who isn't here?

a canadian in berlin
johnny will be soon
& i'd sure like to meet with you
before the next new moon

so call us & let us
make plans to have supper
pop ecstasy tablets
& bottles of uppers

wait no, did i say that?
i meant we'll have veggies
& wine & good laughter
& maybe jump hedgies?

oh drat, o my rhyming is horribly going
i'm writing bad poetry instead of just knowing
that all will be well when we four have convened
in the light of a warm(er) may evening, it seems

we should dine when the sun has come out
will it ever? or will it keep raining til the end of september?
regardless, i'd like for the dandy & yen
to spend goodly time with jarraji and then
we can one day play music ensemble as planned
& spend all our hot summer days getting tanned.

love johnny

mediatus gigantus

2006-04-20T16:25:00.000-04:00

warning: this nouveau breed is monolithic, ubiquitous, and owns anything/everything you can think of. not that this exactly constitutes news, but it is worth examining in diagrammatic form

some bunny died for your chocolate sins !

2006-04-15T02:17:00.000-04:00

biting [rabbits] is an act of violence
http://www.rabbit.org/faq/sections/aggression.html

demimonde don the juanita birthday mask!

2006-03-27T21:54:00.000-05:00

yeah, that's right, we know where to find you, and will break the unstable door down to gift you the bumps! whatsyourproblem?
- sings benjamin blogaboutit, dandy i vee

ARRGH! Birday it's yr birday mayte! ships ahoy to a new year of wonderous wonders, me little (spring blossom) dearryy!
- pirate harks yonder, lady re-generator ix

As they say in Nelson "Hippy Birday" ... boone fete ma belle
(some mon will always get you good BC bud)
- that's "caw" it goes w/ sir himophrodite

so don't, you get fresh with me

2006-03-23T20:30:00.000-05:00

ok so yes what if it's true? we are a slacking blog bunch of non-bloggers. refrains of 'why don't you blog about it?' have transversed and transubstantiated themselves into little bits of non-blogging in the real live lived ((u&i)multi))verse. overstand me?

ok so yes we been busy making windows and watching wiry ones walk down planks while bulbs go Boom! and people go Oom! ("cestquoica?")...hmm....johnny v been on ice w. + pints de' G and allon-zhays a plen-tay. hay? readingmachine thoughtmechanic #129: zadie l'academe to paul gone brooklyn. that 9th restraint will be drawn on march29 at IFC in NYc. abbreviatedly of course.

ok so yes on march 28 one certain rjpie will pass from quarter cen. to that +1. festive celebrates. justlikethesundo! mark my words.

johnny v passes time with t (earlygris) + sings hooks to beatchants he ain't even spoke yet. henrik svensk just reappeared to add acoustic strums and fun. but my bass ain't got no name yet.

Q1: any ideers?
Q2: if casa's booked til augusti, where will no-1 make an m.royal cd-offering e-vent?

NB: overheard; on fateful march 29 ))between the ides(( shadows will be revealed to revelers.

Q3: who has got us a picture perfect to compliment the chef?

drop it like it's hot, fools. it ain't nuthin but a g-thang. and that's why...
'we always hang in a zoobizarre stance'

so don't
(you go gettin any ideas)

first sunspray of the season!

2006-03-11T21:12:00.000-05:00

thee knights of instablity join thy dandism

2006-03-10T00:49:00.000-05:00

the Hurdy Gurdy Man Singing Songs of Love

2006-03-08T21:44:00.000-05:00

"A Dandy is a clothes-wearing Man, a Man whose trade, office and existence consists in the wearing of Clothes. Every faculty of his soul, spirit, purse, and person is heroically consecrated to this one object, the wearing of Clothes wisely and well: so that the others dress to live, he lives to dress...And now, for all this perennial Martyrdom, and Poesy, and even Prophecy, what is it that the Dandy asks in return? Solely, we may say, that you would recognise his existence; would admit him to be a living object; or even failing this, a visual object, or thing that will reflect rays of light..."
- The Dandiacal Body from Sartor Resartus by Thomas Carlyle

deutschland

2006-02-23T15:04:00.000-05:00

e'rybody and their guitar-pickin' boyfriend gots one. am i wrong?

xo johhny v.

hi honey,,

2006-02-18T05:12:00.000-05:00

need a hand?

Val where are you?
Please come home, we are all worried sick.

Looking for our beloved lady in plaster,
Honey's best friend (pictured above)
Val has had a cranium operation and sometimes gets a bit confused,
So if you see a lady sitting looking forlorn with a droopy eyelash,
Please contact us,

Thank you

holding hands from across the sea so as to not fall in

2006-02-18T05:04:00.000-05:00

sooooooooooooooooooooooo pppppppppeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrtttttttttttttttttttyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

Curly hair: a social analysis metaphor

2006-02-11T21:36:00.000-05:00

ever since the last epic mullett-inducing, ceramic straightener-imposing haircut bestowed upon me by the virtuous hands of one Claudia at Godin's salon, i have taken to washing my hair far less frequently: the result is as unpredicatable from one day to the next as the bartendender at Sala Rossa; flirty vixen one day, glowering misanthrope the next. on the first detergentless day, my hair is a black cloud of ripe grapes that follows me around, obscuring my peripheral vision with large circular shiny locks wherever i turn. the invasion of dark coarse ropes take on a life of their own, leaving me their humble and lucid servant. my hair is funny, literally. it plays bad pranks on me and tries to out-do (pardon the pun) itself on a daily basis. after a series of aerobic workouts and nights of induldging sleep, the curls become more like teenagers struggling to assert their individuality in a mess of sameness. as is the case in any social organization, each strand of hair fights for membership in some clique or another, in a system of locks and cluster of curls, but there will always be those that don't quite belong thereby ostentatiously trying to be 'different' everytime; some doing gravity-defying karate kicks to the heavens, others posing as straight, others eager to show off their curvaceous figures among wide tubular slides for pondering fingers. today i was Miss Hannigan from Annie, my hair toppled atop my head like a messy crown of weightless ringletts. two days ago i tried channeling a twenties coupe of head-hugging waves but ended up looking more the part of a Victorian composer or worse, its damaged pet poodle. but maybe that's better than the look of stacked chocolate doughnuts that i seem to end up with after a full week of unattended vanity. fittingly, like any long and enduring love, grasping the complexities of this impossibly knotted relationship requires acknowledging the ratio of strong roots to dead split ends... a metaphor worth exploring at great length, but pardon me, i have to go shampoo my hair now.

The ICRS

2006-02-07T20:44:00.000-05:00

is here . Already!
Johnny V cannot beleef it!

Cuz I ain't no...

2006-02-07T20:39:00.000-05:00

For anyone else needing this catchy insanity to be explained once and for all!

Once again, thank you wikipedia.

mild und leise

2006-02-06T17:41:00.000-05:00

...ice age coming...

back to broke.

2006-02-03T22:33:00.000-05:00

bows in the sky

2006-01-30T20:57:00.000-05:00

i heart them

PoPpa OcCulture [lite chops vs dali 'stache] +theyfallintothetub "i drink it all up today"

2006-01-21T15:44:00.000-05:00

before

after

during

i'd much rawther drawr a 12hr bawth than eat crummy old raisins, dawlings!

What goes up...

2006-01-21T01:37:00.000-05:00

Today could have been far prettier if you hadn't showed up. Maybe I would have even smiled or bothered to say 'hello' to the grocer whose grins start from deep inside his perpetually oversized sweatshirts. If you hadn't come a knockin' maybe I would have given my pocket change to the guy who mutters obscenities at me under his breath with his hand outstretched from his cold sleeping bag two doors from my stoop. After all his violent cussing and forceful begging, even he's more considerate than you, even his grotesque belches and yellow-coloured coughs fare better company than your hideous lines. You're the detritus of all things untrustworthy. This affair was never made of love, but dependency. Now I know the difference and hopefully have the know-how to go on without you.

An Ode to Fido Upon Reading my NYC phone bill, written in the wee hours of poor (literally) desperation.

Viddylog killed the mp3 star

2006-01-19T07:18:00.000-05:00

RIP to the ol' John V

2006-01-14T16:22:00.000-05:00

OUT W THE OL' IN W THE NEW

When the push comes to shove-l,
i say clear a path thru the snow=
and don't get forced to bed early
ere comes JV on the ZedTV show

MIDI FILE BREAK IT ON DOWN
did u ever know that yer my hero?

Johnny V vs Johnny V

2006-01-12T19:55:00.000-05:00

Don't be fooled. This is not the real Johnny Valentine. For the real JV please see the boozer below.

Start Spillin' the Booze

2006-01-10T16:44:00.000-05:00

94%

2006-01-08T19:19:00.000-05:00

gosh kids! you's gone and done it again. and the Stables postbox thanks you kindly for filling its belly with such delectable treats- a reminder of all the bliss with jagged edges shared in new'ish york. so as we sit today, we're still dancing with the best. mr.&mrs. millions, bless your wildly erupting hearts for puttin' on the ritz with us. here comes the new day...

satellite of love

2006-01-06T06:06:00.000-05:00

Romantic Romance

2006-01-03T20:38:00.000-05:00

See the Perfect Human host a show.

http://www.zed.cbc.ca/go?c=ZedRealHomepage

PS. Grey Longjohns + I Heart NYC=

2005-12-31T16:29:00.000-05:00

NO.
SLEEP.
TIL BROOKLYN!!!!!

(leaping to sleep)

(Not Just) Johnny V. in NYC

2005-12-31T15:53:00.000-05:00

Dear Friends & Farwaway Neighbours,

Johnny V, Gramps, Rjpie, Jenny Millions, + Tendertoes are kickin' it here in the Mile End of the NYC: Williamsburg, BKLYN. 514 parallels continue: Verb Cafe bagels mix with americanos next to beeootiful bookstores and spots where vintage abounds. But bklyn hath hasidic freestylers, thai at Sea, dj J at Enid's with dancin beeootys and photobooth memoires, Mike Patton + Rahzel dismissed by Concert Joe...and of course....gramps' infamous now famous: "whis-kay!"

Woah dere pahdner. Slooowww it down there. Buddy.

Yes friends, this has been so. we 4 arrived upon Xmas Day eve and hit Stanton Ave Craigslist Apt #1 - in hotspot#1 Nolita- only to find a floor dirty and stinky tiny too (small) bedroom apt where sleep we did but barely barely. thanks to swift moves and late nighted Yaffa fare we did the BoxingDay morning post-xmas Re-Negotiate a settlement and reimbursed move Elsewhere.

But little did we know that Elsewhere = Unbelievable! A loft we found...of Craigslist #2...but oh what a loft did we found! A huge expansive place with view of Billyburg bridge and all of Manhattan seascapeskyline. The immensity. Imagine! The fair and recently Calgary-blanched Tendertoes arrived in smile that eve to find us cozied cozied in a hugest of spaces with windows and warmth and clean floors and good cookin' times. Excellence. Cozied to Devendra and Avey and Panda Bear, Killin' Floor Blues Holopawed and beyond did we rest rest and wide-eyed rise to conquer the ManHatt.

ManHatt: too much and much too too. All over we walked (tendertoed us all!). Some became Cloaked (Gramps) while others found treasures - "heck, we all did" - how couldn't we, could we not? I can't recount it all but friends we made and found and wrought out of substance inspirational air and wound countenances up up and upup we wound! Shops and drops and Times Sq. and Hilton lobby breaks overlooking theatre too priced options and overwhelmed staring and staring. Oh and none of Le Hi-Five had a camera still, so all y'alls get is my words to fulfill. G-ramps did bring the viddy viddy so one day you may see some moving pictures of the times but for now nope you don't get it nada.

Did I mention the Park? Centrale we walked met Alice talked and visited Yoko's John place of peace and memorial. The only only place where the starlings stopped to sing. True. Did I mention the sun? There was some! So much. And no snow. No there was none. Until now.

The night passed (yesterdid) finally we Got Our Dance On at Ave C: to bouncing sounds of reggaeton disco and funkdified fun! Mojito mojito mojito everyone! Did I mention the rhyming? Hey, when did I start it? I guess that's the way of the tale I've imparted. But perhaps not always. Oui?

As of today, eve of the almost TwoDoubleZeroSix, we be outta that loft yessireebob we be. Our newest dear friend fab ms Mari hath taken us under her embracing wing and given le Hi Five a spot in her spacey place for a few days.

Tonight on the Eve of Distraction we amass our energies and heat to pick a rightful place to end.

Johnny V & Gramps been brown baggin the Bud an' whis-kay for one too many nuits so now is time for the real realness to get done and done right. Am I right, gramps?

So dear friends, without need or available effort to full recaprecountrewrite our lil' histoire, I say time to loosen them s'spenders and re-tie full windsor them ties and break out the goodness of the herbal tease. Get ready for an NYCNYEve showdown to remember! And bring out the camcams!

I promise to document and celebrate for all of you.

With love and eagerest o' anticipatory enforced affection,
Johnny V.

english tea meets dr.pong

2005-12-19T23:14:00.000-05:00

"The Enforcer", kids. The Enforcer. Check out: Third Ball Attack

deck the fields with pods of poppies

2005-12-17T17:52:00.000-05:00

Gimme that old fashion morphine x3
It's good enough for me
It was good enough for my grandpa x3
It's good enough for me
Sister don't get worried x3
Because the world is almost done
Gimme that old fashion morphine x3
It's good enough for me
It was good enough for billy burroughs x3
It's good enough for me
Sister don't get worried x3
Because the world is almost done
Gimme that old fashion morphine x3
It's good enough for me
It was good enough for Isabelle Eberhardt x3
It's good enough for me
Sister don't get worried x3
Because the world is almost done

Old Fashioned Morphine by Jolie Holland

cute overload

2005-12-15T16:56:00.000-05:00

this site is unbelievable

buried electronic

2005-12-11T21:40:00.000-05:00

"Out Of Time" (blur)

Where's the love song?
To set us free
Too many people down
Everything turning the wrong way around
And I don't know what love will be
But if we start dreaming now
Lord knows we'll never leave the clouds

And you've been so busy lately
that you haven't found the time
To open up your mind
And watch the world spinning gently out of time

Feel the sunshine on your face
It's in a computer now
Gone are the future, way out in space

Tell me I'm not dreaming but are we out of time?
(We're) out of time

say cheese! (w/o the rennet, pls)

2005-12-09T19:48:00.000-05:00

school's almost out, december projects are finishing up, and it's time for the Nau Family - that is Ben and Jen, and their domesticated tiger, Miso - to celebrate the holidays with their beloved friends, at the Stables Manoir. What better way for the Fiery Four and their domesticat to kick off the new year than with a family portrait to mark their walls and stain their memories with? season's souvenirs. think about it. aw heck, i just say we get dressed up and do the frickin' family photo already. c'mon, before the Frauleins in Fur are old and crusty, before Gramps retires his suspenders, and before Johnny Valentine takes off again for less snowy pastures. I promise eggnog to start, gingerbread to finish and tree trimmings inbetween.

Johnny V = the perfect no-one

2005-12-08T16:44:00.000-05:00

all i want for xmas

2005-12-08T02:12:00.000-05:00

here is our new xmas *anthem*

so sayeth 1 x johnny valentinomas.

merry hippos!

Everything We Do This Season Should In Some Way Relate to Jesus

2005-12-07T21:23:00.000-05:00

AND THIS IS THE WORD ON THAT [click here].

Xmas capitalist blues

2005-12-06T00:29:00.000-05:00

i never thought that i'd be saying this, but can't we just put the "CHRIST" back in CHRISTmas and let the religious holiday be handled by the experts of sunday church operations? the festive lights i dig, but the stress-scorned shoppers, their aggressive mall-navigating tactics, and the lack of unique words behind all the greetings makes me wonder about this season again...

do i need money to get to argentina?

what about NYC? dec 27 - 30th?

r. ben schafer

2005-12-05T23:55:00.000-05:00

tonight was recovered from a cold snap by a bustling group of blindfolded brats as they booze hounded their way via bus into the soundality of mr.henderson's private world of tech pants and gadgetry. this pie is darn sorry that school kept her from accidently bumping into walls with her buddies.

oh how dark a room can be

2005-12-04T22:53:00.000-05:00

A power outage for life is full of doing things, really made for a change...

Something like life is full of there is really nothing that you can do god damned it.

So life is full of doings things sat in the dark with candles and truly did n-o-t-h-i-n-g, which I must say was the first time in a long time. It is hard to sit still when your use to bouncing off the walls with whats-nextism. It probably did me good.

Also LIFODT is wondering where that boy is. When he lost his phone LIFODT learnt another lesson about the dependency of technology and being able to communicate when far apart. At least a night with the ladies heir soir in furs and pearls made for a night to remember that we will get old one day and might just be the last tamperine player left on the dance floor.

Obviously LIFODT has power again, and is busy doing things with in the 17" square in front of her, and is thinking maybe a retreat is an all right idea.

what the hexamagar

2005-11-30T14:07:00.000-05:00

how comes no-bodies post no-mores? where my peoples at? valentine be stuck with desks and cameras. fearsomefour: write one & all!

hotel johnny

2005-11-20T23:50:00.000-05:00

A Sunday Night Note from inside the Georgian Court Hotel...

hey kids,
the word is out. valentine is in the 604, chez hotel (merci to zed), and all cozied up next to gm/bc places: lovely bc lions post-playoff street fighters, brian williams & cbc sports reporters, the raveonettes, assorted CFL players, and gwen stefani/m.i.a. concert goers. so far i've spent most of my time watching entertainment televsion and (sort of) trying to get my head back in the mcgill game while contemplating the potential longevity of this latest zed incarnation...something about dox and the "real."

on friday i had to switch rooms due to 2" of water leaking from the room above me into the bathroom...but aside from that things have been good. the vpl is supposed to have wireless access, but it's very very slooooooow. i thought i could get some work (ie. my now piling-up academic papes, yo) done there, but i ended up spending time online drifting into random thoughts about new cars and this cool one i drove from berlin to zurich last summer...

anyway, the nissan altima ain't necessarily all it's cracked up to be, though it does have a cool onboard computer that talks to you and plans your route for you using some cool GPS tech stuff. and it zooms along the autobahn like a dream. well, back to reality. johnny v. ain't gots no money or time to be thinking about cars. in fact, i think today was the first time i ever drifted off into that land of imaginary automobiling. weird.

well now the lions game is done, the fans and fat punch drunks have gone home or off for more drinkin' & i've ordered some greek food to get dee-livered for my dee-ner which, i hope, will be dee-licious, although, who knows. the hunger hit me and it's kind of sketchy bang for the dinner buck round these parts. the YVR has some great eats if you gots transport and time to get to 'em. if yer stuck round the corner from yer place of work and in need of late (sunday) night eats...good luck to ya! tomorrow i'm outta here and back to the west end Q.Charlotte homestead. sofasurfin' my friends. sofa. surfin. it's quite the life. let me tell you.

more valentine updates soon. you know who hasn't posted here yet?
her:
and yup, you guessed it, she's the one that johnny most wishes would! and she did promise, she did.

rjipie, where you at?

regale us with glad tidings & comical stories! alls i gots is newsnewsnewsrooms.

love y'all,
johnny

delay time + 10.31= one lil' broccoli!

2005-11-11T22:03:00.000-05:00

our dearest global kids, now parents and surrogate moms&pops to many of us falling into the sea, have one year + of one most most adorable (sed een eh varry fraanssh ehksent) little organic veggie.

Lennox:
is a broccoli.

The cutest
broccoli
ever.

compatriots

2005-11-11T21:53:00.000-05:00

like my 604 compatriot, ms violet chrome, i johnny am woefully the lone blogmeister in our collective blog. yet, even at that, i am delinquent - not having posted words of inspired astonishment since pre-hallows pseudo-poe verse! alas alas, so time for posting ebbs and flows and what nobody reads then nobody knows...

valentine and the rjipie love the panda cam - how could you not? though it's curious how the bears are sprawled at the bottom of what looks like some old wind-up bird well...

well
the ellipses continue
( ... )
and Worn Magazine's launch calls us out
as does one b.IV's creating of soft sound spaces
(sigh sigh we sigh)

in short time
valentine must
accomplish many many
and fly fly fly

tonight will be minus: water breakable in the a.m.

arcade vampfires

2005-10-30T14:01:00.000-05:00

thus, abandoned in our burtons, we four grew to multitudes
roamed through scripted invitations forth to mansions bishop rue'd
and lo' we found a crowded house of bau'mpin technolights
quite covered by some fragile powdered noses glimm'ring white;
but darkest corners did we seek atop the highest stair
and found we did a room for us where we could dance and stare
but alas when open doors did find their place for three to clamber
over railings on the roof (aghast!) where faint of heart might stammer,
out of nowhere Bruno's headset gloves and meaty eyes did peek
and he would not be swayed, he was dismayed, with reddened cheek
he hollered loudly: "you must enter! close this door! you must descend!"
but little did he think accursed he'd be by benjamin-
who, with bruno's torchlight blaring in the eyes of supple meek
he ordered: "stop it! turn it off!" and nimbly jumped with angered feet
toward the man, who face to face now, did they quick exchange the first of several glances,
but our benjamin, would not be swayed by angrier parlances,
thus commanded we re-entered where so haunted by strange revels
we could hear them whisper words throughout the rooms of us as devils!
disgraceful- thus, we could not stay with malice seeping round
and descended we did quickly to the cold and noisy ground.
the street was overbrimming with the moans of drunken hallows
so we fled in yellow legion off to better stranger shadows.

arriving for a second time with ne'er a vampire seen,
except for us who tooth by tooth could oft be made to gleam,
we assembled at a second flight of stairs afit to climb-
what would become of us, our bloodied hungry mouths of wine
were growing thirsty, could this be the place?
but flesh was hanging heavy in the air enough to taste
and so we paid the price of second revelation for the night
and entered into darkness where there could be seen no light
except the glow of ipod reaper or the dimmest etch-a-sketch,
was that a flavor flav, a half-dead writhing little wretch?
we cackled loud and low and low and loud we danced away desire
the blood was flowing molten now, a smoldering of fire
that has gone out- yes, it was thus as time crept past
the long toothed hour of looking glass
reflected us as ne'er before:

like vampfires seen in days of yore
like spirits without bodies, or
like blackholes in the souls of your
dark vision kept at distance for
the reason that its claws could strike
on any dark and unlit night
a vision could be stripped away
to never see the light of day
but we know this and keep our peace:
all hallows eve will never cease.

loving

2005-10-23T23:42:00.000-04:00

there will be nomorenanotechnopostoblogothingsamatron. time is too precious. and there is too little of it. should we be more with love? when we are. all is full.

"snow's coming," bear said.
"sho' is," the other bear replied.

How to Rip DVD Movies to Your iPod

2005-10-14T22:43:00.000-04:00

http://diveintomark.org/howto/ipod-dvd-ripping-guide/

"It appears as though the video iPod will play unprotected movies converted to Apple's QuickTime format, even if the movies are downloaded illegally from file-sharing services," said an Apple representative after Jobs' presentation. "It will also display home movies, which can be exported to the iPod via a new function in Apple's iMovie software."

deep sea = deep space ?

2005-10-14T02:45:00.000-04:00

Gulp?

2005-10-14T02:40:00.000-04:00

The Tarsier Falls into the Sea (with a scary sound)

2005-10-14T02:22:00.000-04:00

the greatest

2005-10-13T23:39:00.000-04:00

she is singing:

LISTEN

to
chan marshall

ok ok ok ok ok ok....the triumph of celebrities

2005-10-13T12:55:00.000-04:00

the rasberry ale chez esperanza has resulted, for a second and conclusive time, in a much bally-hooed discussion of the Whos of Actors that - with sexiness, smarts, and good actin' - have emerged as the best and most deliciously desirable of them all. this is hotly contested ground to cover mid-swigs of berried beer but we carried on, we did! and oh the triumphs we did find. The Man was soon and swooningly quick decided to be the oh so ohhhhh of jump street pirates the only Johnny Depp. ah yes. the j depp, the only only. the man who, walking into the room, would bring all women weak-kneed to his feet kisses thrown toward...none of the ladies at our table could even recall if their were any other finalists. was anyone even close? the only johnny indeed.

his female counterpart, though, proved near impossible. the length and breadth of career, the quirkiness, the unsurpassable sexiness, the intelligence, the saving grace of terrible films...who came close: juliette binoche (too sophisticated, not enough range of roles), winona ryder (but acting became shoplifting and it was over before it began), audrey tatou (too cute!), julianne moore (intelligence and acting yes, but not the depp level of sex), juliette lewis (maybe, the craziness yes, but what happened?), nicole kidman (alien! alien!)...and so...after two lengthy occasions of rattle chattered randomly celebobsessed debate we arrived, achingly, here:
Venus (from Baron Munchausen)...of course!
Uma Thurman.
She who, on walking into the room, all men would stumble, longingly, unable to speak. It is true.
Our criteria were five worthy films that she had appeared in. Consensus was needed to complete our Holy Pair of Desirables. We elaborated the list as follows: Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Beautiful Girls, Henry and June, Pulp Fiction and...Baron Münchhausen. Done!

Her Venus, quoth birthday BjmnIV: "The nude skin! Nakedness!"

(And a great sigh).

let's have eyeball

2005-10-08T13:06:00.000-04:00

i open my eyes and what do i see?
the waked up state of the tarsier!

with some/time

2005-10-04T22:28:00.000-04:00

to wonder...

(écoute! écoute!)

anemones

2005-10-04T22:24:00.000-04:00

valentine wonders...
when oui 4 sing play
what will la musique that we make be called?

good good future

2005-10-02T17:34:00.000-04:00

awoke post-boys of toosmallbikeclub fun
zoom! thru Po(o)p Montreel: Torngat sweetness, grungergrunge up missy bar, el salon súpercool featuring klezmercircusing mit Man Man and saturday AM cerealboxrock mit japon Zoombombs. once agin friendly mit st ambroisa - and the white tshirt man on stage while band bowed. in short: amazing. post-noise and orange tshirts moved thru more smoke machines! to dollarsliced madonna where B.IV oh so glently plucked the Code of Ethics velvet skewnosed bear from amid the stuffed zoo wreckage. hooray! an attempt to lift the ass was not as successful. zoom! around around mulberry ground and inevitable elite fromage à la créme + fairmount tastyness. sold out were the islands + dissed we were for being pon lowly bikes we laughed, then morning morrow. zoom! awake o'deathbed rise and shined our way to sala rossa where mit sleepy eyed did spie with artful eyes the sunday arthob snoggles, yes btwixt oeufs and crepes and more the bearded s.roberts, stars o' stars, hustle postles, and more. zoom zoom! to pucespop where the air grew thick and water had we not, so stayed only a while, cavorting with minipressed cds zines and comic kids aplenty. then, with dancing striped leotard workout class in session we left, valentine clutching 2D megaphone, the closest he could find. zo. om. slowed and parted we. rest of thought as water washed toward archictects of finlandia. minus the potatos boiled til able to sink our weak knees with hundred proof.

80 kilometres per hour

2005-09-29T14:25:00.000-04:00

winds winds winds
curving our umbrellas
craning our necks

last night there was a show with 604 kids: woodenhanded, without luck, and mistakened numbers won. IV bjmn viz made + helped by doing things & rjpie, while friendship was rekindled with st ambroise. voices thrown and loudly lost, so

today the early is grey

life is full of doing things so sometimes you might as well just get drunk

2005-09-27T23:37:00.000-04:00

this girl likes chips

2005-09-27T20:33:00.000-04:00

and i quote:
"i like the way they go crunch when i eat them...
knowwhati'msayin?"

yes i do. we luv you salt&vinegar chip cooked in a kettle.

alas alas

2005-09-27T20:27:00.000-04:00

oh dear. we've just learned that antony and the johnsons have sold out thursday night's show. the one ms tash may attempt to fix an overprice from venue scalp artist, but valentine's lot ain't got monied legs to stretch that tall. alas alas. we will miss the new nina simone and bigapple sisterduo sweets cocorosie this time around. one more time not to be saiyde.

why i heart Bell canada

2005-09-27T09:50:00.000-04:00

Dear Valued Customer

Thank you for visiting the Bell Canada web site, and for your order
request. Rest assured that we have received your request.

There is no need to do anything further once your order is placed.
Simply sit back and enjoy the convenience of the web!

A customer service representative will respond to your request within
two business days.

The response will outline all the details of your request.
Your business is appreciated!

Bell Internet Centre

***
And that is why it has been 1 week+ that we've been sitting back and 'enjoying the convenience of the web' and still we have no phone line.

finances & table saws

2005-09-27T08:53:00.000-04:00

woke up this morning to the 6am sounds of the loudest saws imaginable. unsurprisingly, this neighbourly construction site brought immediate half-waking thoughts of monies owed and monies spent. a beautiful day awaits us though. the oatmeal is almost ready. can you smell it? cinnamon, brown sugar, and oldtape sounds will guide us through. raji is less with cold, and valentine is more with inclination toward antigone and tragic writings.

don't be saiyde, bronfman!

2005-09-27T00:35:00.000-04:00

g'night.

w is for wachowski

2005-09-26T22:52:00.000-04:00

and still it might redeem itself.
mightn't it?
v is for vendetta
(go ask benjamin4)

all hallows

2005-09-26T22:04:00.000-04:00

it's been decided. this 10.31.05 the four descend on blackened citystreets as jack skellington, sally shock (the seamstress), victor van dort, and the corpse bride. perhaps they will collect candy or be caught in masked true intentions of moonhowl "arrrooogh!!"

sophocles

2005-09-26T18:58:00.000-04:00

tonight, the work of sophocles. his oedipus rex. the same that spawned freud's complex and countless words to similar effect. tonight in view of levi-strauss, vernant and others, valentine looks for his own way in:

If I could just block off my ears,
the springs of hearing, I would stop at nothing -
I'd wall up my loathsome body like a prison,
blind to the sound of life, not just the sight.
- Oedipus (1525-1528)