forever changes...

what a weird week.

it's 4:30 am and i can't sleep, so i'm just going to write until i start to nod off, hopefully it won't take too long...



first of all, this week is old man week. i don't know if i wrote about it already, but all week at the bar i'm wearing old man clothes. it all started when my boss, marc, who's an awesome guy (i have to say that in case he ever reads this, but really, he is, i mean it), was making fun of me for my clothes always being wrinkled. see, the thing is, i'm not a dirty person, but i'm a messy person. i do laundry, i bring up a pile of clean, dry clothes from the laundry room, and i suppose i should fold and hang everything right away, but instead, things just get sort of left in a pile, i've got better things to do. two piles at oppostive ends of the room, dirty and clean. but anyway, i said to him, for one week only i'd actually wear pressed shirts and ties to work. this of course turned into, for one week i'll dress like an insane old man. this turned into a trip to value village (do they have that outside of canada? it's like a larger goodwill or salvation army), where i bought a shitload of crazy old man pants, shirts, ties, and loafers. i'll have a couple of photos for you soon. yesterday i looked like a cross between a male nurse and a gay golfer.

what else?

oh yeah, remember a couple of weeks back i told you about my new favorite band? well, i guess they saw my post on here, not sure how they found it (although it is entirely possible that i might have sent them a drunken message through their site...), and they've got a little message for me on their site. i love it. so much love. you really should hear them.

here's a (completely unrelated) poem:

fatty french fry: have you heard of defamation of character?
me: have you heard of salad?

so there's this regular at the bar i work at, really nice guy, whatever. comes in a few times a week, sometimes for one or two, sometimes gets hammered. no big deal. we all do. anyway, a few weeks ago, the dude is talking to me, and is all "man, you're really cool, we should be friends, do you want to go out for a beer sometime?" and i'm all like "i don't know man... uh..." and he's like "i don't have a lot of friends, are we friends? can we be friends? let me take you out for a beer..." this goes on a couple of times over the the last few weeks, and i'm just thinking like, man, sure, you might be a cool person, i don't know, but really, i don't really need or want any more friends. i've got lots, and to be honest, i barely have time to see the ones i do have. i'm backlogged as far as hooking up with old friends is concerned, i just don't have the time or the desire to make an effort to hang out with somebody i barely know. also, you're a customer, i'm a bartender. you love me because i provide you with beer. plain and simple. i'm just like, sure, if i'm out for beers and i happen to run into you somewhere, we might have a pint, but other than that, no, i'm not making any plans, and i'm not going to call you. i'm not trying to be an asshole, it's just not going to happen. so yeah, i pretty much forgot about all that, and then tonight, the dude is at the bar, and starts up with it again...

dude: so when are we going to go out for a beer?
me: i don't know man.
dude: what's your schedule like? when are you free?
me: uh, i don't know, i work a lot man, and i'm pretty busy, uh...
dude: when's your next day off?
me: thursday, but i've got plans man.
dude: what are you doing for thanksgiving?

read that last sentence again. what the fuck? i don't know what i'm doing for thanksgiving. i don't even know when thanksgiving is. what are you talking about?

dude: want to come with me to halifax for thanksgiving?
me: no.

just no. sorry. stop. this. conversation. must. end. now.

okay,
i'm tired now,
must sleep.

-ryan

coffee, cancer, and pizza...

i just got home from having coffee with my mom. she goes in for surgery tomorrow. i'm a bit freaked out by all this, as i'm sure you can imagine. when i first found out she had cancer a few weeks ago, the first thought that crossed my mind, of course, was that she might die. plain and simple. i'm 29 years old. i don't want to be completely orphaned already. especially when my brother and jill just had a son five months ago. she just became a grandmother. it really wouldn't be fair. we lost our father when i was 14. talking to her today though, she seems pretty positive. i mean, obviously she's freaked out, who wouldn't be, but she has a good attitude, and all things considered, it looks positive. the doctors say that it's small, and should be easily taken out, and likely hasn't spread. they caught it early. okay, good. my mom's attitude was one of "this time tomorrow, i won't have cancer." positive. still, i'm freaking out a bit. but there's not much i can do, really. just try to be there for her as much as i can be. i'll do my best...

makes me think a lot about my lifestyle too. i smoke. i drink. i make maybe not the best choices in my diet. i don't really excercise all that much (although i do walk everywhere, which adds up to at least an hour or two a day, if that counts, i just don't go to the gym or play squash or fruit-boot or jog all that much). i don't know. maybe it's time soon to make a change. or maybe i'll just keep living in this invincible adolescent dream world...



ever heard of dave dub? i first met dude years ago through zest the smoker, and he sent me this cassette called "endlessness in machinery," which was one of the best things i'd heard at the time. i've got a couple of 12"'s he's put out over the years, haven't heard much recently, but i just stumble across this recent interview.



aceyalone and bukue one are coming through canada again. here's a flyer.



selfhelp will work for pizza...

okay, off to work soon,
lasers,
ryan

and the card attached would say...

thursday night the band gets together and practices, then we go out for a few drinks, and we end up back at my house, up until 5 or 6am. yesterday, at 1:45 in the afternoon, my flatmate alanna knocks on my door...

alanna: ryan, phone.
me: go away.
alanna: it's your brother.
me: i'm sleeping.
alanna: he wants me to wake you up.
me: i'll call him back...

she walks in and hands me the phone.

brother: get up. we're picking you up in 20 minutes. it's your grandmother's birthday.
me: are you serious?
brother: yup.
me: jesus...
brother: get up.
me: fuck. okay. i'm up. bring me a large coffee.

so, yeah, turns out it's my grandmother's 85th birthday. we drive out to byron, to some friend of my aunt's house. back yard style. some cat playing a synthesizer, my aunt's friend singing some jazzy numbers. a bunch of old people who i'm apparently related to, but don't really remember. it took me a while to wake up enough to be able to hold a conversation. crazy cast of characters. i haven't seen my grandmother in, i don't know, probably at least 5 years. it's my dad's mother. basically, when my father died, it's like that whole side of the family disappeared in a way. we didn't really keep in close touch with them. i think of my mom's side as more my family. my last name is technically "hanes", but i haven't really gone by that in years. it's pretty strange. part of me sometimes is a little whatever at these people, like, when my dad died and my mom and my two brothers and i were going through hell, when we lost the house, didn't have money for anything, and were struggling just to stay alive, where were these people? my dad's parents weren't there for us at all. my mom's family, they helped us out, especially my uncle tony. he's the reason we had a house to live in, a car, everything. if he hadn't of helped us out, we would have been totally screwed. so anyway, it's just pretty strange being at this celebration, and having conversations with this family that i'm supposedly a part of, but don't really feel a connection to at all. a bit surreal. i think it might be kind of weird for them too though. in the last couple of years, i think i've started to look more and more like my father, so it must be a bit strange for them to see their dead brother in my face. i don't know how i'd handle that. sorry i'm rambling a bit, it was another late one last night, stayed up until 7 or so, with a few cats on the porch. too much candy. not enough candy.



happy hour with mark mckay, episode 8 is up now.



pat giles.



susana ferreira.

lasers,
ryan

killafornia...

i just got my pictures back from last week...



nevada and ryan mahy.



nevada and dayna.



nevada, the bartender at the embassy, and me.



ryan mahy, and dayna.



me, and ryan mahy's girlfriend, laura (i think).



me, and craig (dj grenwod), who did cuts for me that night.



me, and dayna.



moka, and the quartertones, on stage.



more onstage with moka and the qt's.



upstairs in the band room, moka, the qt's ms. bates, and dj butter.



moka with some candies.



kevin, workin' the merch.



kevin and jay (moka's managers), putting it down.



"so how's our radio tracking in japan right now?"



kevin, danielle, and me.



kevin.



on my porch. my feet. yeah, blue nail polish. i love it. don't hate.



dayna, with moka.



dayna, doing her thing.



my flatmate alanna, on the right, with her friend.



working in a bar is such a strange thing sometimes. i swear, i could tell you a new story every day. something strange always happens. there's always one person, or one situation that happens, that either makes your laugh or gets you pissed off, which just makes you laugh...



run todd, run... a couple of nights ago this todd comes into the bar (if you have to ask me what a todd is, you probably are one). funny enough, his real name was todd. he comes up to the bar and orders a pint. tells us he's on a blind date, supposed to meet some girl here. blind date? do people really do that shit? if somebody said they wanted to set me up on a blind date i'd just laugh in their face. but anyway, the dude waits around for like half an hour, finishes his pint, and comes back up to the bar to pay his tab. "i guess i got stood up." sorry 'bout that. he walks outside, and then comes back in like three minutes with this girl. turns out, she's his blind date, and she's been waiting outside for half an hour while he was inside having a beer. they come up to the bar, he orders another beer, "and for you?" she doesn't answer me. "can i get you something?" still no answer. "do you want something to drink?!" no, she's fine, she doesn't want anything. so, todd is sitting there talking to his blind date who waited outside for him and doesn't want anything to drink. he has one pint. they leave. now, todd, do you want some advice? no? well, too bad, you're going to get it anyway. DO NOT, under ANY circumstances, no matter what, EVER go out with this girl again. first up, she's an idiot. it was cold out, and she waited outside on the steps for half an hour. girl, this is why we meet people at bars, so that if people don't get there at the same time you can wait for them at the bar, have a drink, talk to people, whatever. how old are you? 12? did your mom drop you off for your date? it's cold outside. are you that dumb? second, have a drink already. you're on a date. loosen up. i'm not saying you need to get hammered, but what kind of message are you sending to the guy you're on a date with, if you don't drink anything. jesus, i mean, you don't even have to have any alcohol. have a cranberry and soda. have a perrier. have a virgin caesar. something. anything. to not make the dude feel completely alone with his pint of beer. jesus. todd, even though you are a todd, you can do much better.

today's recommended listening...



awol one & daddy kev's killafornia, on alphapup records. i think these two bring out the best in each other.

toolshed are playing in london this saturday.



i love thursdays. i work sunday to wednesday, so today's my first of three days off. and thursdays we get together at the studio and work on tunes, then hit the bar after. it's my favorite night of the week, easily. maybe i'll see you out there.

lasers,
ryan

a sad state of affairs...

pick up dj moves' new 7" on bully records.


i feel so blank today. blah blah blah. what's the fucking point? i need something bad to happen. if you're a beautiful woman can you break my heart for me? if you're a tough guy can you break my face for me? anybody out there into robbing people? i'll tell where i'm walking with a pocket full of money, kick me in the nuts and take it. i need something to write about. life is too fucking happy right now. i have money, which sucks. i need to be broke. it's too much just partying and paying rent on time and eating and having a good time, it fucking sucks. i want to starve. i want to be lonely. i want to want to die, so i can live. does that make any sense to any of you?

"it hurts to be happy, i'll find pain in all of it." -child in rhyme

lasers,
ryan

da na na na na na na na...

do you like batman? yeah, i'll bet you do.



(thanks to paul for the link.)

spaghetti i'll sauce it...

holy shit my man e-dot just sent me this link of OC (you know, "time's up," DITC, yes, that OC) getting into a scrap with the bouncers at a club in toronto. here's a photo, click the link for more. i can't believe it. i can't believe it. (actually, i lived in toronto for 10 years, i can believe it.)

boomin' words from hell...

so i've slowly been piecing together wednesday night. people keep telling me stories. basically, i did my show, and then proceeded to drink the bar out of their heineken and jack daniels. drinking with nevada is not the best idea for me. i can't keep up with that kid. my leg was all fucked up the next day, i'm told i tripped over some cords near the stage and body slammed the floor. i vaguely remember this. explains the bruises. we went to call the office after the embassy, at least this is what i'm told, but i really have no recollection of going there at all. i'm also told i invited a bunch of people back to my house. so, at home, i go to take a piss, realize i can barely stand, and go straight to my room to crash out. my flatmates were also pissed at me, i'm told, as we were loud and obnoxious. somebody woke me up, and i walked out of my room to say good night to everybody. i was told later that i walked out completely naked and was talking to everybody. i later found out that this was, in fact, not the case. jesus, don't make up stories and fuck with my head like that...



last night was pretty chillsville at the bar. my buddy paul and his girlfriend emily were in town from montreal. paul's awesome. one of the raddest dudes ever. he's the cat who built my website for me. anyway, it was nice to see them. we hooked up for breakfast today at prince albert's diner (burritos, perogies, and v8 caesars, yum) before they headed back on the road to toronto for a few days...



here's another stupid idiot bar customer story. these two cats come in just before last call. they order a jug of welly lager, and two shots of vodka. i pour the jug, and the two shots, and then make a few other drinks for some other people. the two guys are sitting there talking to each other. (last call is at 2am, which means it's against the law for us to serve drinks past 2am.) at 2:03am the one guy says to me, "hey man, can you top up our shots?" i'm like, "what do you mean?" (i thought he was kidding around or trying to funny.) he's like "man, you didn't fill the shot glasses." i look at the shot glasses, and there's literally like a millimeter between where the vodka is, and the rim of the glass. i'm like "dude, are you serious?" and it goes a bit like this...



dude: "yeah, they're not full."

me: "dude, seriously, you're joking right? it's like a millimeter from the top, if i put like one more drop of vodka in there it'll just spill out as soon as you pick it up."

dude: "no, i'm serious, top them up."

me: "look man, it's past 2 o'clock, i can't legally pour any more alcohol right now."

(i'm just looking at this guy in disbelief, like, he's got to be kidding.)

dude: "yeah, but you already poured the shots."

me: "i know, i poured them before 2, i can't pour any more."

dude: "i'm a bartender, i know the law, it's not illegal."

me: "funny enough, i'm a bartender too, and yes, it is illegal."

dude: "when you're paying $4 for a shot, you want to make sure you're getting a full ounce."

me: (kind of fed up at this point, he's not joking, he's just an asshole.) "okay man, tell you what, come in tomorrow and i'll give you a couple of drops of vodka on the house."

i just turn around and ignore the guy at this point. they go outside on the patio, and then a little while later when they're leaving, the dude kicks over one the tables. i can't believe people sometimes. you're that much of a loser/alcoholic that you're getting all pissy about what amounts to like a drop or two of vodka that you just would have spilled on your shirt anyway? morons. don't come back. we don't need you...



cruised through dr. disc to see if the new public enemy album was out yet. nope. went next door to grooves and dug through the used cds for a bit. found esham's boomin' words from hell. years ago, i bought this on cassette, on a whim. i had no idea who the dude was, but shit looked hardcore. "4 all the suicidalist" is a wicked tune. "i'm just another brother from d-e-t-r-o-i-t / i pack a smith 'n wesson 'cause i don't know karate." killer lyrics. "i'm a headbanger / acid rap slinger / getting on stage / holding up my middle finger / saying fuck it / and grabbing my balls / 'cause other emcees got shit in their drawls." amazing. find it. detroit's finest. buy it...



i also picked up the high speed scene. i've never heard these cats before, but they're on star trak, and it was in the used bin for cheap, so i thought i'd take a gamble on it...



it's news to none, but they got a good little camp happening over there... everybody who knows me, knows how much i love the first n-e-r-d album, clipse are sick as shit, kenna, spymob (i really want to check out their latest), and kelis (who we've all been in love with since "caught out there,"... i just want to know, whatever happend to lee harvey?

so i googled lee harvey, didn't find anything, but came the the uncensored version of the lapdance video. ain't that some fly shit?



here's some other shit you might want to check out. the breakestra got a new one on the way soon. you can probably find info on it here.



matt and i are djing at the alex p. keaton two sundays from now. it'll be a good mix of 90's rap and 60's rock. i'll have a flyer up soon...

lasers,
ryan

sssshhhhhhh...

it's crazy what a good night's sleep can do for you. it's 9:45am, i'm never up this early. drinking some organic apple/cran juice i bought at the little sunripe market up the street. five bucks a bottle, but completely worth it. i just realized i went the entire day yesterday without speaking a word to anyone...

this one's for nevada...



australian for hip-hop. stealth magazine.





self help.



mf doom is the new kool keith.

lasers,
ryan

would you know it if you saw it?

Justice Potter Stewart made the comment that he was not exactly sure what pornography is, but that he would know it if he saw it. One wonders what Justice Stewart would think of the work of Bob Coulter. Is this erotic art, is it a social statement, is it just pornography? Probably none of those.