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Carrot seeds

Written by

The Dust Brothers – Corporate World

About five to six years ago I sent Chuck Palahniuk a letter. In it, as directed by him, I discussed resolutions for the forthcoming year. Somewhat of a blur to my mind, they pertained to learning languages, memorising the faces of loved ones, and writing something (anything) every day. There was a sprinkling of the formal/everyday resolutions, too – the better eating, the better attitude, bettering the better. And a note to an invasive procedure I had undertaken some months previous. An appeal to his senses, I might have thought.

Without flinch, I will admit to not having started, never mind realising the fruition of, any of those resolutions. That brings sadness. To enhance the bitterness of these failures is to also admit that a sizeable portion of my letter read as a miniature review of all his work to that date. “Book A was better than Book D, but Book C? Wow. Book C was great! Book B was a tough read, though.” I still can’t quite fathom my thought process at the time. Why did that seem like a reasonable idea?

So to my surprise, a package! And inside, a letter, too. A letter divulging the secret to his work. The real meaning. The sacrifice of the one for the greater. The Jesus-factor. Beneath the propped letter, a copy of his debut novel (it’s the film poster cover; a pet peeve if ever there was one) – autographed inside, “Daniel, let the dogs and rocks work for you. Chuck Palahniuk/Chucky P.” My power animal as chosen by Chuck? A dog. The rocks? A hand made necklace of stones that would bring me luck, and my named etched across fourteen of them. The remaining package consisted of fake vomit, carrot seeds (“Guts”), chocolate sweets, confetti, fake cheques, and other joke items – and maybe some bouncy balls, too.

This is why I will never leave Chuck Palahniuk behind like I have done to many others of my late teenage years. Firstly, his work alone means he’ll travel and age well, but such gestures are hard to dismiss. Getting over the kindness of a stranger is a task. A pointless one, but a task nonetheless. Gestures, of the good kind, is my New Year’s resolution. More numerous, more intentional. [You are not your fucking CD collection.]

Posted on December 31, 2010 - Tunes - No Comments » Share

Merry holidays

Written by

Vince Guaraldi Trio – Christmastime Is Here

Joan doesn’t like Christmas, Noah generally doesn’t like interruptions in public transportation, and I don’t like losing my car to a burial of snow. But I like the Vince Guaraldi Trio.

[Buy pretty much the only worthwhile Christmas alum.]

Posted on December 30, 2010 - Tunes - 1 Comment » Share

Snow angels

Written by

The Rural Alberta Advantage – Stamp

On Monday, a blizzard debilitated New York. Three-foot drifts cover the street outside my window; a desolate area of Brooklyn scheduled to be plowed eventually, days after commerce resumes elsewhere in this great city. Some kind soul shoveled a path to the next street over, one deemed important enough to merit a halfhearted pass from an overworked plow.

Last night, we stumbled through the snow banks to a normally packed restaurant where we were seated immediately. The waiter apologized for the lack of specials, saying the delivery trucks never arrived that morning. For that matter, neither did my mail. Not that I can blame the postman. “Neither snow nor rain nor heat…” never was the official motto, anyway.

The MTA, citing the “unprecedented severity of this storm,” feels it cannot be blamed for service interruptions. Which is fine, except that Monday’s affair was only the sixth-worst in history. In February 2006, we walked through tunnels to work after 27 inches fell from the sky. Neither the storm nor the MTA’s incompetence is unprecedented; one, however, is predictable.

In Alberta, they worry about Chinook winds, a warm breeze that blows off the Rocky Mountains. The temperature once rose from -2 to 38 in an hour at Pincher Creek. First Nations people called Chinook “Snow Eater.” We sure could use one of those right about now.

[MySpace / Departing releases on the third of January]

Posted on December 29, 2010 - Tunes - 1 Comment » Share

We’ll dazzle them all…

Written by

Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti – Round And Round

When it knocks in the dead of the night, I will be ready.

You see, I do imagine that one day it will all click. The thing we all must do – the something to live for – will come to us in the sneak or the rush. As a dream, in a mismatch of the written word that reshapes to suit, in song, in love, in war. I have to believe it’ll meet me one day, because what a waste it would be to not find it. And maybe I’ll eventually fail at whatever it might be, but I’m ready for that or at least readying myself for the threat of such an outcome. And in the strangest of places the search reignites; next door aeroplane neighbours, the offering of dry crackers, and the trust that you’ve met one of the rare, one of the good ones, the one who has already found the thing that they must. But for now, sleep. [Tenderly pink.]

Posted on December 28, 2010 - Tunes - 3 Comments » Share

succumb

Written by

Broadcast – Tears In The Typing Pool

Can we just talk about all of our bad qualities? You should know.

“I am selfish with food and with things, and I spend more money on the most luxurious food than anything else, I starve myself away from everything else, I routinely snip people out of my life if I feel like they aren’t understanding me and I don’t make an effort to be understood, or do I? I hoard things and my apartment and purse are overflowing with receipts and trash and bottles, I’m narcissistic and I’m condemning and I call everyone out but refuse to take anything from them and I brood and cry and I’m never able to escape my emotions and if I hold it in all day I let it out destructively at home and when I’m good I’m great and when I’m bad I’m awful and I buy a lot of things sometimes and then I will threaten myself with death because I will feel so stupid and I judge people based on how they view animals and how they treat their pets and I am enlisted as the supportive friend of those who want to stand on me and I let them and I resent myself for it, and I will be unforgiving if someone leaves me but I can leave without care, and so I’m a hypocrite and I break things when shit goes wrong and I will never tell anyone what I really want out of life and I don’t ever put the lids back on things and I tear open bags the wrong way and open boxes upside down and leave a trail of mess everywhere and I never do the dishes and I am patient with everyone but not myself. I have high standards where I should be accommodating and no standards where I should have more self respect, I guess. How can I know these things? How stupid for me to say them. It’s trash, this is such trash!!!!! I’m a good person.”

[Buy / Myspace / thank you, Allisun]

Posted on December 27, 2010 - Tunes - 1 Comment » Share

A hand tied to the bed and the other to a brick

Written by

Ancient Kids – Crystal Family

Before I left Seattle, I got blitzed drunk and antagonized my roommate, stealing his phone and turning off his computer as he typed an email. Here’s a list of some of the shittiest things I’ve seen people do to housemates.

1. Turn off computer while roommate typed email
2. Insult the gap between teeth
3. Wear only a towel while humping to awaken
4. Strap down with rope in bed
5. Put toothpaste in asshole
6. Dip sweaty ball sack into agape mouth
7. Move dresser and closet out of room
8. Pee in the water bottle
9. In retaliation to said water-bottle peeing, masturbate and splooge on face while asleep
10. Steal boyfriend and then marry him
11. Snore

[Download Odd City, free, on January 14.]

Posted on December 26, 2010 - Tunes - 2 Comments » Share

ANOTHER MORNING

Written by

Ryan Adams – Damn, Sam (I Love A Woman That Rains)

In the carriage of a train on her way to the outskirts of the city, she thumbs through the pages of a discarded newspaper and leans her head on the rattling window pane. BUSINESS. flick. HOMEOWNER. flick. CAREERS. flick. ENTERTAINMENT. flick. All the seats on the train were taken but for one where a sizable tear in the upholstery had warded people away, because sitting on a damaged seat is a reflection on your character.

***

5:54am. The timetable said the bus would arrive at 5:58am. 4 minutes. 4 minutes or a 30-minute wait for the next bus and the clouds were ominously arm-in-arm overhead. “Where you going, lovely?” squealed some woman, hunched, homeless, from a mangy bench. “Far away,” he shouted, mid-stride.

***

Pulling into the station, she waited for the rest to shuffle past her before getting up. She hated that awkward standstill of courtesy. A man staring aimlessly fixed his gaze on her, mumbled something with the word Love in it, and smiled. She pretended not to hear him. Ambling down the stairs and fumbling through her pockets for her ticket, she worried – for the umpteenth time – about the turnstiles malfunctioning and crushing her thighs like a crab whose intestines were made mostly of metal and shredded train tickets.

***

6:01am. He waited for the bus.

[Pay for his heartbreak.]

Posted on December 25, 2010 - Tunes - No Comments » Share

My private life’s an inside joke

Written by

Bright Eyes – Shell Games

“Okay, let me put on some clothes and I’ll be down.”

It was five p.m., but my phone call had awoken Rat. A few minutes later, he stuck a face framed by a homeless beard and shoulder-length hair out his apartment door.

“Here, you can use Lucy’s bathroom,” he said when I mentioned that I needed to pee.

“Is Lucy your roommate or the cat?”

“The cat.”

Rat is better than most at introducing visitors to his city. “We have to go to Yesterdog, it’s one of Grand Rapids’ only unique joints. Then we’ll go to Founders, a good local brewery, and then maybe a whiskey bar.”

And so, with the Pea Coat I found among my luggage wrapped around me, we stepped back out into the Michigan winter. The air in Michigan has a crisp, almost refreshing quality that you remember later when thinking nostalgic thoughts, but it gets so cold it burns when you’re in it.

Rat filled me in on his job, coordinating transportation for movies in the area.

“Amy Smart sat where you’re sitting,” he said, jabbing at my passenger seat with his elbow. “I saw her tits.”

“Nice.”

“Danny Trejo sat there too. He gave me a hug.”

“Even better.”

“Bruce Willis makes a cameo in the other movie shooting in town, but I don’t care, Danny Trejo gave me a hug, man.”

After spicy pints of beer at Founders, we drove to a dive bar where some friends of him were playing a gig. I have a weakness for long islands or whiskey gingers under $5, so by the end of the show I was trashed.

“Hi! My name is Zac! I’m homeless!” I slurred while shaking the hand of the drummer’s mom. She escaped my grip and scurried off to her van.

The whiskey bar served Rolling Rock in mason jars for $2.50.

“This bar creeps me out because it feels specifically designed for me. PBR and Rolling Rock for $2.50, over 200 kinds of whiskey, they even play music I like.” The Smashing Pumpkins was on.

“Like it’s the Truman Show?”

“Yeah. So I like it, but I get weirded out.” I sipped a neat shot of Woodford Reserve.

Back at his place, Rat put me in the extra half-room, which served as the pot room for his hippie roommates. I was too far gone to care that my feet extended off the couch and rested against the wall.

Later that night, I woke up to find Lucy burrowing into my chest. She purred satisfactorily as I snored into the night.

[Pre-order The People’s Key.]

Posted on December 24, 2010 - Tunes - No Comments » Share

I could really use some caffeine…

Written by

Pearl Jam – Lukin

…but this will have to do. [No Code.]

Posted on December 23, 2010 - Tunes - No Comments » Share

From Coney Island to the Sunset Strip

Written by

Louis Armstrong & The Commanders – Cool Yule

Christmas is rubbish. We’ve touched on this lightly. Well, Daniel did. He didn’t particularly say it was rubbish, just demystified maybe. I loathe the holidays. Family feasts and forced bloodline conversation. “Oh, how’s Aunty so-and-so? Still taking those arts and crafts classes?” Alright, I don’t have an Aunty that does arts and crafts but I betcha some people do. And I bet you a few people hate this fucking time of the year. Bright lights and decorations and hordes of presents that everybody knows – yes, even children – come from the pockets of nine-to-five drones looking to meet the expectations of those around them. We trade material goods for company. Bring drinks and converse!

But maybe Louis Armstrong can make me feel better about it all. That grumbling voice sounds so goddam pleasant, doesn’t it? As if you’ve heard it before, as if you know it well. Maybe it’s that familiarity that warms the heartsichords and douses your skin in hope. [Buy a bit more. Fuck.]

Posted on December 22, 2010 - Tunes - No Comments » Share

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