ohgodohgodohgod

Well looke like VEMF has come and gone for me. I’m alright with that, looks like live PA/Synthrock isn’t an acceptable form of music their (not enough wobble) and I really don’t need to spend a weekend with coke fiends in tapout gear.

Currently I’m rushing to get my shit together for the Rifflandia deadline. If we even get the nod it looks like we’ll be opening at the Cambie Esquimalt but at least I can say I made the half assed attempt. Working full time (ah excuses) is draining and leaves little room for life. I’m trying not to let life get the best of me and follow my heart. Walker’s moving to Vancouver come October so I need my ducks in a row when that comes around. We still plan on doing shows but I know it’ll be slow going. Hopefully Van will open a few new avenues up for us.

Work on the album has been slow but I’ve been making some comfortable progress with it.I’ve refrained from posting any new music on the cloud as I find it detracts from my overall output – the small bit of satisfaction for something <em<done tides me over until the apathy grows to great again and I push another one through the tube. I’ve been listening to Heaven on repeat though and god damn, Elgin-Skye sounds fucking AMAZING on the track. Seriously want to share it right now but it will come.

Coyote

For the last 16 months I’ve slowly been working on a short film. Hope you enjoy. Not an album but we’re getting there. Watch both halves for details on the album name and artwork.

Special thanks to Brad Wutke (Buyproduct), Kristy Farkas and Margaret Mews for helping to provide the soundtrack.

I didn’t lie

We must party forever

This is a prelude of sorts.

At the end of the week I will be at the end of my formal education. For now at least, there’s always that Ph.D. to spend a third of my life on but for now I’ll end it with a humble Bachelor of Arts. Regardless, life is become threateningly real for me right about now. I’m torn between growing up and going with it – though I realize in the end a lot of these choices are made for me.

Album is coming along well. As promised, something big at (woo) at the end of the week. It might not be what you were expecting but it might shed a bit of light on the rest of it. All I can say is that it’s time to let the camera roll. A false sense of liturgical Americana might prefix the aforementioned project but it’s pretty key to the first true paragraph in this entry. Pretty sure you can tell I’m scramblin’ here.

New music? Pretty fucking sure of it. Tomorrow I’ll be posting the sound of the …week…give me a break we all have lives. Only a quarter of mine recently has been devoted to tumblr escapism. Sounds oh so much better than voyeurism but really it’s a narrative work of fiction as much as we want it to be – the juxtaposition of images is provides more than enough room for us to justify locational narrative. Anyways, how do you spend all your time on the internet? Never felt so good to relieve myself of the mountain of guilt becoming a shut-in seams to cause. Looks like I want to perceive Cudi and I have more in common than I would originally of told myself to assume.

The beginning of the end. Save me, Lemon Lion!

There are only a few weeks left until the deadline for the rough cut of my album to be done. After that it’s polish polish polish until it’s done son. Some of you know this but I’ve been working on the album for university credit as well – gotta get it done somehow. My institution, Vancouver Island University was recently on strike and we lost over a month of the semester.

Originally the semester was going to be scrapped and I would have had to come back in September but luckily the strike was over at the eleventh hour. Solidarity with the union and all that rot but what a rough way for it to end. This is my final semester and it feels like a weak way to graduate. On and off through the semesters it has felt like I’ve been paying for a credential instead of earning it and nothing like a bit of positive reinforcement in this department.

Other than that? Music is fucking great. We just survived Partyfest 2011 this past weekend and blew the roof off the place. Crowd surfing in the living room never felt so good. We’ve got the track listing for the album nailed down and pretty soon I’m renting a pair of monitors to get the mix hunky-dory.

Also been tidying up the website and all the social network bullshit that comes along with the internet. Seriously, what a waste of time. I’m pulling the plug on MySpace too, tired of the shit design and supporting Rupert Murdoch. Pulling out of Last.FM as well, just found out it’s lined by CBS and I really don’t want to let too many broadcasters have the rights to my music.

I don’t care if my music is ripped stolen and puked around the internet for free, that’s half the reason I’m putting it out there. I do, however, have issue when multinationals like NewsCorp act as an unofficial wing of the republican party as well as run content aggregators like MySpace.

The stars will shine as long as we live

Grass is grass

I want to get lost in the city. The city is awash in the summer hue of lomography. Everything is new, modern, important. The city is dirty, torn, old, broken, battered, beautiful. Sustainable, the new green, earth friendly, global village. Feel the city, alive, young, intelligent. It’s always spring in the city, lush, green, warm, new clothes, fresh smells, dogs running in the park, men and women in ultra modern glasses pondering the organic or the fair trade. Embrace the diversity, the camaraderie of the inner city. I love you mom and dad I’ll be home soon. These streets won’t inspire you they’ll desire you. This is the beginning. A new you, the next stage, a moment in time.

I’m afraid to get lost in the city. I’m already homesick for the Island thinking about it. Here I’m home, I feel the land. The beaches breathe for me, I can escape. I love you mom and dad, I’ll be home soon. The city is dirty, torn, old, broken, battered, horrible. Glitz pandering to the ultramodern hypocrites, ironics looking for a good time. Grit casually observed never lived, a voyeurs look into squalor the bastard love child of Truffaut and Bukowski. Vapid suspension of disbelief is required to live in the city. Consumerist drenched insustainability, step over the homeless, drink on the skytrain, avoid fare, the metro squad, responsibility.The streets won’t invite you, the contrite you, they will ignore you. The anomie becomes you, no name, just you. I told you, the old you, lost as always, hoping for insight, cast, in a street light.