January 26, 2004
Great Aussie Radio

I'm losing a family member to Australia. I have very mixed emotions about it. On the one hand, if it all goes well, I'll end up with a beach-house and a surfing instructor in a few year's time. On the other, snow storms are aesthetically pleasing, and I've never once wanted to venture the 18 hours by plane to find myself in a land of venom.

Anyway, at least we'll be united in radio. At least we'll have that. Destroyer fans should take note: they've been playing cuts off that latest, still unreleased album ("It's gonna take an airplane" - the best-titled song of all time). And Michael Stipe seems to get a lot of airtime too, which is all right, as I've decided he's ok.

Posted by at January 26, 2004 04:38 PM
Comments

I've determined it was a fluke. i don't think i like this station at all. but the first 4 songs i heard were awesome!

(spoke too soon again, . spoke too soon again.)

Posted by: on January 26, 2004 07:18 PM .

the merge site has 3 songs from Your Blues available. hooray.

Posted by: on January 28, 2004 11:47 AM .

oh yeah.

Damn. I thought the album was called "You Are Blues"; I think I like that more than "your...".

Posted by: on January 28, 2004 11:56 AM .

Hey guy, our man Carl Wilson has a new website with some things pertaining to your Bejar guy. zoilus.com is the website. Nice! It was good to run into you in real life on the week-end.

Posted by: TheDiscourse on January 28, 2004 06:52 PM .

I think "new ways of living" is my favourite song title. I've been trying to find my own new ways of living, myself: 'under the sea', 'in a van'.

Posted by: D on January 29, 2004 10:11 AM .

How about "on a prayer"?

But seriously, folks. It's time for a new post, . Thank you.

Posted by: Altertross on February 4, 2004 07:23 PM .

Shit Altertross, I miss you. Let me tell you about what happened. Monday morning I woke up with a kink in my neck. My alarm hadn't gone off, or it had, and I'd turned it off without waking. As a result, my vehicle was towed. That cost $110. I was in the outlying area of the city by a meat packing plant and Keele and someshit going, "Where the fuck is my car!" The woman looked like she'd been abused all her life, which she had, because it was her job to deal with people in the worst most violatingest of states. I kept telling myself "don't blame her - don't get mad at her - it's not her fault her job sucks ass and she couldn't find a better one." Then she told me to go into the lot on the left. She said, "it's the lot on the left." I TURNED left and went into the lot and walked around clicking that obnoxious little chirp chirp thingy hoping I'd hear my car, or, I should say, my parent's car (I still had it, from my visit to London Ontario over the week-end, where I watched my good balding friend turn 30,) and finally I gave up and went back and she said: "I meant left side of the building - not "turn" left when you get outside". I don't know what kind of directions these are but they sound like the kind I'd give. So I was furious about the wqay I willed myself to (mis)interpret them.

Anyhoo - There's a fucking ticket under the wiper for $20! (40$ in a week from now) I was so stunned when I saw it I added insult to injury by asking a tow truck guy if I was seriously expected to pay this, thusly giving him the opportunity to say "yes".

He looked so happy to say so.

I drive to work with pain shooting down my shoulderblades into my spine everytime I check my blindspot. There's ice all over the road and I almost die by driving off the road and I almost die when I skid down a hill with my foot on the brake the whole way and I almost die when I - I'm pulling out of a fucking snowbank, and I'm really struggling, spinning out in a perpetual stand still, and I'm about 20 feet away from a FRESH RED LIGHT at the end of the block and I check the rear view and I see someone barrelling down the road and I think "Surely, they can wait for me while I deal with this snow bank - surely they can!" as the light is RED and what the FUCK IS THIS ASSHOLE"S HURRY ANYWAY? but he decides to swerve around me so that he can be ahead of me at the light, (instead of just waiting) and he swerves into what is almost oncoming traffic but really, not really, not even close - anyway - honks at me for a good five seconds to let me feel it and so I'm compelled to tailgate him with reckless abandon with hand on horn hoping he'd get out of his car - which he seemed initially, in an absolutely breath-taking moment of grand karmic circumstance - like he is going to - so I could kick the living shit out of his stupid Toronto Soul. But he wasn't as angry as I was and he turned right. I could see his relief - it was like it was his car's relief - shivering - because I was psychotic - when I didn't follow.

I can't even write about Tuesday.

Wednesday, today, I wake up at 5:30 and drive to Brampton and come home at 10pm to try to get to sleep and in spite of the fact I only slept two hours last night find myself wide awake with adrenaline and -- I just can't sleep. Maybe it's because of no pot. It probably is. I talked to my friend Zen about it. She had to get a life-insurance policy, and they run THC tests. So before she went in for it, she quit. She smokes about twice as much as I do, and said it was the hardest thing she's ever done, going without it for 2 months. She hadn't gone without it for two days since she was 15. She's a paid writer and she said she realizes only now that she writes much better when she isn't high - in spite of always having believed just the opposite. She said she was mad at herself. I related to her anger. How could she have confvinced herself that she was better at writing when she was stoned unconsious? I said, "but of course, I mean, name me the writer who is also a pot head" - it just doesn't happen - and Since that conversation, I've gone back into quit mode, which makes me want to scream at everyone and then hug them to make up. Also, working on this documentary, I can't afford to get high. I can't get up in the morning if I do, tho I can't if I don't either.

My sister went to Australia. I feel like crying when I think about it. She has the glowingest energy of anyone I know and I moved back to Toronto to be around her (and my friend who now lives in London) and the feelings I've had lately about what I'm doing here, what I'm doing, what I'm doing, what I'm doing, where I'm going, where I'm going, where I'm going here, where I'm going: Larry David: "I spent the first 40 years preparing for my life as a homeless person."

I fell in love with a girl. Like Tuesday - too much to write about. I don't know how. I wish i did but I don't yet. I don't know how.

My house, where my three roommates and I once lived a relatively harmonous life, has gone to shit as of 4 hours ago, when a prospective dude backed out and it now looks like I have to find a new place pronto. Yet with these hours continuing through the month, I'm afraid I won't. I'm afraid of my parent's basement. I'm terrified. I don't want my twenties to end yet. I hate the bags under my eyes. Are you still there Altertross? Anyone and everyone bothering to read this - I'm sorry. It should be its own post. It shouldn't be a post. It has no place as a comment. It has nothing to do with Aussie radio. But as if that's what you really want. As if anyone could give a shit about radio in Australia or falling in love with Drew Barrymore fifty times while listening to Outkast and sucking on mutilated puppy balls.

Lookit, I don't have access to my blog presently, as I'm not on my home computer. So all I can do is comment. To say: If you live in Toronto, and you think you could live with me, you should know I am very good about doing my dishes and I believe in the value of cleaning up after myself in general.

That's all.

Posted by: on February 4, 2004 10:12 PM .

Also, because I'm not on my home computer, and don't have access to my blog, I can't ammend or erase anything I saw in the comments.

Posted by: on February 4, 2004 10:18 PM .

Or "say", as the case might be.

Posted by: on February 4, 2004 10:19 PM .

Might be.

Posted by: on February 4, 2004 10:20 PM .

, that post to Alberta-toss made me really sad, for some inexplicable reason.

i mean, really sad. like i-have-to-leave-my-desk-now-and-go-for-a-smoke-and-contemplate-the-futility-of-life-and-please-don't-accompany-me-i-want-to-be-alone kind of sad.

can i buy you a drink or something?

Posted by: marijke on February 5, 2004 10:05 AM .

Fear not the parents' basement! Forget not Sankey's cat-infested Cat Shack! Now with more cats!

Posted by: D on February 5, 2004 10:17 AM .

Okay, first of all, friends don't leave friends for London, Ont. Most likely, the people you saw in London on the weekend were actually clones of your friends, supplanted by CSIS as part of a secret government conspiracy to ruin your life.

Second, rejoice! for moving into your parents' basement will assure that your twenties will effectively never end.

I have no solution to offer in regards to your sister's relocation. I feel it too. I know you call her Beans or something like that, but to me she will always be SoulBrain, and Upper Canada is certainly a poorer place without her. It's up to you to pick up the slack, . Is your soul brainy enough? Is your brain soulful enough? Show me.

Next, doesn't falling in love mean sublimation is lurking somewhere nearby? Or are you like me, a member of the Doomed Love Generation for whom the promise of love brings only grief and regret? Ah, love...

There is yet solace to be found in this encouraging statistic: nine out of ten shitty things happen in winter.

Posted by: Li'l Abner-tross on February 5, 2004 03:47 PM .

Marijke: sure thing sista.
D: Thank you.
Li'l Abner-tross: You gotta go easy on my London friend. He's working his ass off in London-town so he won't have to work joe jobs the rest of his life like me.

But I take solace in that, yes.

Soon it will be spring. Like, three months after it's spring where you live.

Posted by: on February 7, 2004 07:37 AM .
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