Posting for the sake of posting

Holy shit this blog guilt is a potent thing. There it is, all staring me in the face. Fine, blog, I give in, here you go.
What's new? Oh, let's see...
More reviews for Stylus sent in plus the interview of Bunf from Super Furry Animals. Listening to the tape of the interview was shocking at first, until I realized that what I was hearing was not really the true timbre of my voice, and that, in fact, the tape had recorded at a slower speed than it was playing on the stereo in my room - feeble hold on masculinity retained for another day.
It has also snowed a lot in the last day. A lot.
Oh yes, I almost forgot, while I was at the dentist the other day I became obsessed with phenomenology. What is phenomenology?

phe·nom·e·nol·o·gy (fĭ-nŏm'ə-nŏl'ə-jē)
n.

1. A philosophy or method of inquiry based on the premise that reality consists of objects and events as they are perceived or understood in human consciousness and not of anything independent of human consciousness.
2. A movement based on this, originated about 1905 by Edmund Husserl.

phe·nom'e·no·log'i·cal (-nə-lŏj'ĭ-kəl) adj.
phe·nom'e·no·log'i·cal·ly adv.
phe·nom'e·nol'o·gist n.

You know what? I really need to read up on it more (also on the Common Sense current of philosophy, which Jason had recommended).
Phenomenology as it interests me specifically - Shepard Fairey's Obey Giant project, and Denny's pile of stones in Chuck Palahniuk's Choke.

What's Up Paris?

What does it mean about Paris that their graffiti is digitized?
I never, in my wildest dreams, imagined that Duck Hunt would be big in France.

Chastened

So blogger.com has taught me a lesson. A lesson about using colours and different font sizes. Or, more accurately, about not using colours and different font sizes. You know why? Because that shit doesn't fly around here.
But I thought about it, blogger.com, and I decided that the heart of the problem, well, it lies squarely with you. Yeah, that's right - not me, it's you, pal. You come on strong with all your "user-friendly" interface. "Oh yes, people, come to me! Flock to me, my children, and I will let you use five different font sizes and a small rainbow of colours to fully articulate all of your self-centered, in-joke-reliant petty observations about our world!" Such an attractive idea, how could we resist?
Oh, I fell for that song and dance, and I fell hard. Hard! I was tentative at first, a bit shy, blushing as I first used the italics here, maybe made bold a phrase there. It was innocent; we were just playing around. Then things got serious and I sometimes added some colour in! My orange thoughts could now actually be orange! When I was feeling blue, so were my pathetic, self-reflexive words! It was like having some strange new super power! (But way smaller and far less useful!)
But then something happened - I lost control. You let me think I was guiding my own blog destiny, blogging the way I wanted to. But really it was your way all along. I couldn't turn it off. Can you imagine the shame, blogger.com, of clicking on your "handy" (please understand that I meant "handy" with extreme sarcasm) italics or bold button, and seeing, seeing with your own eyes that the button was no off, but still your words were in italics?!? Even worse was the time I'd attempted to use the huge font for the first letter of a post, sort of like those old-tyme storybooks, thinking Maybe we can have some fun with this thing. But you fucked me, blogger.com, and good...IT ALL CAME OUT HUGE! What if someone had actually visited that page, man?!? I know no one did, because that's blogging and I can accept that, but it could have happened by accident! What would they have thought of me?!? God, I can't believe I trusted you!
I'll keep posting. But not because I feel comfortable. I'll do it, on my terms, because I'm not a quitter (unless you count volunteering, silkscreening, cataloguing my magazines, learning the guitar, exercising, studying the French language, etc...). But if you keep messing me around, man, you will be so sorry, because I will watch Pump Up the Volume and get so in to it that I will BLOG HARD!

blogger ate my post up

Maybe it was the leftover Halloween spirit, or my complicated usage of font sizes, italics, and colours. But for whatever reason there may be, blogger has eaten my last post. I will do it later, old school style ("old school style" does not mean anything).

There was a girl at our show who danced like nutz and looked like Arthur from Degrassi (and she was kicked out)

SO we played last night at the Collective. Thanks very much to those who came, and to those who didn't, GYPSY CURSE. To those who bought our EP (plug: AVAILABLE NOW, visit our myspace for more information or for some kind of ordering), double super thanks. To the fat fuck at the back door when it was time to load up, talking about seeing wikkked metal guitarists in concert, shut your stupid douche-face mouth, asshole - I could smell his fat bitchness just as animals sense bad thoughts in people, at least in movies.
Space Amazon and the Warrior Queens sounded good, I finally got to see them, despite Glenn's attempted sabotage. And We Are Wolves!!! Fucking great! Check them out - - - sort of like Liars and Deerhoof fucking in reverb (what does that mean?!?). To those three or so people I know in bigger cities like Montreal or Toronto, go see them, seethemseethemseethemseethem. Really nice guys with aspirations to play smaller, PA-equipped venues.

THE BEST THING FOR YOU TO DO ON HALLOWEEN

Halloween is a special time of year for most of us, whether you be pretending to be in high school and still trick-or-treating or just turning off the lights and lying on the floor until the greedy, mealy-mouthed urchins stop shouting for candy! more candy! with their piercing wails...
Anyways, that doesn't take all that long and you should be done around 9-ish. What to do then? It's a Monday night, you've already worn that costume to a party on the weekend, it's broken in and still smells okay, the chocolate and drink stains or whatever they are aren't too noticeable in dim light. But what can you possibly do to celebrate All Hallow's Eve?
Luckily I have an answer for you:
DADADADA:Lazers are playing at the Collective Cabaret!
We're opening for Montreal electro-punk trio We Are Wolves along with Space Amazon!
Check out the links on myspace.com to listen to them or us, and then ask Il Matto what bands who recorded between '77 and '94 we all sound like! And then come to the goddamn evil show!
Oct. 31st, Collective Cabaret, 1st band at 10pm, $5 with costume, $7 otherwise. And watch for our post-post-humous EP, to be released soon!

What's happening? (I keep my dreadlocks in a napkin ring, rap and sing, unlike the homogenous clones I'm in to earth tones, birthstones and erogen...)

In the language of my head, certain key words or phrases will immediately cause one of the underdeveloped parts of my brain to chime in with lyrics to rap songs...This one comes courtesay of MC Paul Barman's appearance on the Deltron 3030 album.
Speaking of albums, I got some nice ones from Sarah & Stylus magazine... This bi-month's windfall includes treats like the Chromeo mix, Nada Surf (though someone else might be reviewing it for the magazine), the Rubber Soul tribute - This Bird Has Flown - featuring the Fiery Furnaces, Ted Leo, Sufjan Stevens (I'm not a huge Beatles fan, but, you know how it is...), as well as Danger Doom!, the new Wu Tang comp: Think Diffently Music, and Felt's 2: A Tribute to Lisa Bonet (I had no idea this existed until I pulled it out of an unmarked envelope - meeting-attending suckas missed out on this one).
Music has been good lately, what with the Arcade Fire / Wolf Parade show, the Metric visit, finding the URGH! record, Tangiers / Deadly Snakes playing tonight, a-a-a-a-n-n-n-d-d-d DADADADA:Lazers opening for We Are Wolves on Halloween at the Collective - come and check us out, imaginary people who read my blog! We even have a new song that we're stoked about and my dumb fingers won't be able to handle quite yet by the 31st. But whatever, man, don't sweat it - it's fucking rock'n'roll.

Separated at birth?

If I am seen in the reflection of the windows of the Scotia Bank at Polo Park with the right light and while I am biting my bottom lip, I look like a white Kanye West.