candles, cake, and crumbs off the table...

the truth about rap...

let the hustlers play

wow. what a night. 3:48 am. yeah, the usual. sitting at the bar. it's quiet. listening to steady b's let the hustler's play. dope shit.

woke up this morning (well, my morning) just after 2pm. got out of bed, walked to the bathroom, took a piss, washed my face, walked out of the bathroom, and my flatmate hands me the phone. hello. hey. what's up. got an issue at work. what's up? so and so's back is fucked up, can you come in? when? uh, now? uh, no. give me an hour, hour and a half, i literally just woke up. i need coffee, plus some triple s (shit, shower, shave). okay.

so yeah, i basically had no day. a quick coffee and some chicken salad, then off to work. got in, ran the patio for a bit, pretty chill. some fundraiser dinner thing, plus an art show, plus our usual tuesday goodness later on.

hot as shit. i smell bad. we bought water guns today at the bar. best idea ever. every time i walked in the kitchen the boys would ambush me with the spray. loved it. cooling off. so hot. walk outside, take an order, walk inside, wash my face, make drinks, take them outside, take another order, walk inside, wash my face, make drinks, take 'em outside, take another order, walk inside, wash face... neverending sweat... thank god for shower in a can, you can get pretty stanky working an 11-hour day in this heat.

so yeah.

i got one of the biggest compliments in my life tonight. one of the dudes who's art is up in the bar right now, his parents came in for their show. now, i'm good friends with this dude's older brother, and their dad was one of my high school teachers. one of my favorites, actually. intelligent guy, i enjoyed his classes. so he's at the bar, i say hello.

me: not sure if you remember me, i'm ryan, i'm friends with mike, and you were my teacher at central.
mr. j: yes, hello, how are you?
me: good, you?
mr. j: good. you still writing?
me: yup.
mr. j: you know, out of 5,000 students i taught over the years, there are two who's writing i remember, and you're one of them.

serious. wow. what a fucking thing to say.

sure made me feel good.

wow.

kinda makes me wonder what i've been doing for the last ten years of my life.

but still, when i think about it, i'm just getting started. i had a conversation about this shit a couple of weeks ago. i can't remember who i was talking to, but the thing is, i could have written a ton of shit when i was in my late teens/early 20's, but really, what the fuck do you know about anything then? answer: nothing. nada. nathan. zilch. zip. zero. stingy with deniro. might light ya wrist, but that about it. might buy ya crys', but that about it. fuck it i might wife you, and buy you nice whips...

i have to say though, those were some inspiring words.

it's one of those strange things too, something i do, often, too much, is not write. not do anything. so fucking scared all the time. so critical of my own shit. it's weird. like, with music, there are songs i love, that when i read the lyrics, i think to myself "this is garbage, if i wrote this, i'd throw it out, i'd never record it..." but shit, i STILL love the song. why is that? i don't know. i've always been so scared of my own shit. my own creations. i've never written a song i like. i've never recorded a song i like. i've never written a story i've liked. any drawing, painting, sketch... all i can see are the flaws. the times i've seen myself acting on screen, all i can ever see is what i'm doing wrong. or, more correctly, what i'm NOT doing right. it blows me away constantly when people react to my art. when somebody tells me "child in rhyme" is one of their favorite songs i'm completely humbled. when somebody reads a script i wrote in an hour, that i was about to throw in the garbage, and tells me they love it. when i do a show and come off stage and people come up to me and tell me they were blown away, hypnotized, by my performance. humbled. that's how i feel. but i can never understand it. it's never good enough. it's quite right. there is always something wrong. i could have said this one line better, just put the emphasis on a different word. or rewritten that paragraph of dialog. or the shading on this face is just not quite right. but the truth is, nothing will ever be perfect, and it's not about perfection, it's simply about the act of DOING, about CREATING. that is it's own perfection, not the outcome, not the PRODUCT. fuck, tim and i just dropped a shitload of cash to press CDs and the truth is, i'm not completely happy with the album. i never have been. but on the other hand, you know what, i am COMPLETELY happy with it, simply in the fact that we DID IT. we MADE IT. we wrote it, we recorded it, and we pressed it. and fuck it, it represents who we were at that time in our lives, and you know what? we weren't perfect, so why should our music be perfect? sure, i would still like to change a few lyrics here and there, re-record a few parts where i'm not entirely happy with my delivery, but the truth is, i could go in the vocal booth and re-record a damn song 50 fucking times, and i'd still never be happy with it. so fuck it, instead of wasting my time recording one song 50 times that i will never fully come to terms with, why not record 50 different songs, once each, and just love them unconditionally like the rebellious, bad-ass children they are?

yeah, that sounds like a better plan.

okay, my battery's about to die, and i forgot to bring my power cord, so i gotta wrap this up. one more smoke and i'm outta here.

i'm sick of everybody asking me about all this shit, so, here's the breakdown of what's going on with my crap....

OK Cobra: album is coming out on july 4th, across canada. tim and i are pressing it ourselves, distributed by urbnet.
video: it's shot, i haven't seen the footage yet. sean is super busy finishing his movie, so hopefully i'll get to see the footage this weekend, and we should have it done by the end of month. muchmusic probably won't play it (fuck 'em), but i'll have it up on youtube and myspace.
tour: we're booking lots of dates. i'll have the shows updated in the next couple of days on our myspace page. i can't wait.
book: back and forth with emma, getting the edits done. we're almost there. it'll be out this summer, hopefully in time for my tour. i'll be sure to let you know when.
film: my movie is shot, editing soon, but really, i have no fucking idea when this will be finished.
doc: yeah, shit, i've been sleeping on this, i need to get back on top of this.

so much to do, so little time, but so much fucking fun.

fuck, it feels good to feel good for a fucking minute. i'll take all the lows if i can have the highs. fuck your drugs man, i don't need 'em doc, i can deal with the madness. at least for now. things might change, but for today, i'm chilling. i'll handle it. i'll try. or i'll die trying.

i went through a super depressing moment earlier today. was standing on my porch, drinking coffee, lit up a cigarette, and just felt the total nothingness of it all, all at once, all condensed, all encompassing... seriously, when you actually get to the point where you can see the pure truthful meaninglessness of everything... you're left with only two choices... give up on everything and simply die, or give up on everything and simply live. if you can do both at once, you're a fucking star. not a fucking star, but a fucking star. seriously. a star. an actual fucking star. i'm a fucking star. a star fucking fucking star. fucking stars, man...

okay, my computer just fave me the "fuck off, battery is about to die warning," so i'm gonna finish my smoke and go home. jesus.

pissing...

a friend of a friend took this photo last night from their balcony... it made it's way into my hands, and now it's making it's way into yours...

one more hit...

this guy produced one of my favorite albums of all time.


In 1992, J-Swift produced The Pharcyde’s classic debut album Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde. Offering a hilarious, free-spirited alternative to LA’s dominant gangsta rap, the innovative album spawned hits like “Ya Mama” and the timeless “Passin’ Me By.” After The Pharcyde tried to take some of the credit for his beats, J. fell out with the group before the seminal album was even released. Still, the Inglewood native managed to parlay his obvious problems go away. I would be in the studio crying ’cause I couldn’t believe that I was in the situation that I was in. I was like, What did I do to deserve this? All I did was try to help everybody, so I was kinda feeling sorry for myself. I was feeling suicidal but I knew that I didn’t have the balls to put a gun to my head, so I figured I’d smoke dope and just kill myself off this dope.

j dilla changed my life...

i can't stop listening to the jay dee remix of "she said"...

j dilla changed many of our lives...

rest in peace cat.

my field trip to planet nine...

marc, me...



megan, alanna...



emi, megan, alanna...



marc, emi, megan, alanna...


what a wild night...

first, the party they threw for me at the bar on monday night. we filmed a bunch of it, so, i won't tell you about it now, i'll have some video up in the next few days, so you can see it for yourself. all i will tell you now is that i woke up on the red carpet with a puke bucket. the party coat is still in effect.

at the bar right now, just finished work. ryan's random rap mix on play...

[creamy spies]

dreams. crazy dream last night. so weird. not sure the order of things, as it was very random, but i do remember pouring what felt like millions of beers. i hate dreaming about working at the bar. makes me feel like i'm not escaping it. but whatever, all i know is in my dream i was pouring perfect pints. anyone who's bartended knows what i'm talking about. other part of the dream is was in this busy building, lots of people around. kind of seemed like half mall, and half busy train station. lots of escalators and movement. crowds. rushing. i see this girl *****, an ex-girlfriend of mine who i haven't seen in years and years, but still talk to occasionally via email and whatnot. anyway, i see her walk by in this crowd so i'm thinking i should say hello. i walk to where i saw her but she's gone. an elevator door opens and there are two men standing there. middle-eastern guys. they seem to know me, and say something about how i have to meet somebody. they point down and there's a baby carriage with a child in it. they tell me it's the baby of some girl i know, an old friend, another person i haven't seen in years. i'm happy that she has a child, i look at the child, smiling. there's a third part to the dream as well, but i can't remember it right now. i'll add it later if i remember.

[i'm cool like dat, i'm cool like dat...]

[tennessee...]

oh yeah, if anyone has any photos from monday night, wanna email 'em to me? thanks.

so this guy comes into the bar tonight, a dude who is sort of a regular here, not somebody i hate or anything, but basically just somebody i could live without. i haven't seen him in here in a while, i say hello, make him his drink, and a few minutes later i pop outside for a quick smoke. he's outside and starts talking to me. now, usually i dig talking to people/customers when i go out for a smoke, but uh, yeah, our conversation goes something like this...

dude: you know, a while back i was in here and you really offended me.
me: oh yeah? how so?
dude: i've only been back twice since then. you were making some joke about dead hookers and i was really offended. you were talking about killing hookers.

[balcony beach]

[now, just to clarify, i remember the conversation i had with this dude a while back... and, this is one of the things about being a bartender... you're sober, and the people you're talking to are progressively drunker throughout the night, so, by the end of things, whatever conversations are had, you remember them, and the drunk people generally don't, or, they remember bits and pieces, vague ideas, but not the actual words that were said. so, again, to clarify, dead hookers are something that are occasionally joked about. not in an evil way, fuck, i respect hookers, but i respoect a lot of things that i joke about. i joke about death constantly, and shit, i have more respect for mr. grim than i think most people do. and anyone who's seen and appreciated dirty work understands that a parking lot full of cars with dead hookers in the trunks is funny. so yeah, whatever, the conversation i had with dude a while back was something like this...

dude: what have you been up to lately?
me: not much, chilling, trying to figure out what to do with my basement full of dead hookers...

stupid, i know. juvenile, yeah, you got me. but whatever. it's life.

so yeah, anyway, to continue...

[check the rhime]

me: no, i was not talking about killing hookers. i made a stupid joke about dead hookers, and i'm sorry if you were offended.
dude: you shouldn't joke about things like that. what if my sister was a hooker?
me: following that logic, i would never speak another word again in my life, as anything any of us can ever say could possibly offend somebody.
dude: well, i've only been back once since that conversation, that's not a good way to keep customers in the bar.
me: it's not like i would casually make jokes like that with every customer in the bar, i guess my mistake was assuming a certain level of comfort with you, and thinking that we shared a similar sense of twisted humour. obviously, i was wrong, and again, i apologize for offending you.
dude: i don't have any money, can you run me a tab.
me: no, sorry, i can't.
dude: well, can you buy me a beer?
me: no, i can't.
dude: yes you can.
me: yes, i can, but no, i won't.

see, the thing is, the dude was broke, and his whole 'i was offended' crap was a scam, as he was trying to guilt me into buying him a beer or spotting him a tab or something. now, i don't have a problem buying drinks for my customers. if you're a good person, come in regularly, are pleasant to deal with, tip decently, and enjoy yourself here, then fuck yeah, i'm going to buy you a drink now and again. it's the least i can do, and i know when i go out to a bar and the bartender hooks me up, i appreciate it. but, this is the wrong way to go about it. first of all, this dude is a notoriously shitty tipper, notoriously cheap guy, bums drinks and smokes off of people, and is always asking for a hook-up, for a freebie. i'm just thinking in my head, after this conversation, man, there are like 20 people in here i'd buy a drink before i bought you one. again, i don't hate dude, i could just do without him either way. but man, when you don't tip at all, and have been telling me for a year "i'll get you next time," why do you think i would buy you a beer? so, i put out my smoke, walked back in the bar, and bought a round of drinks for a table of regulars. they thanked me for the drinks, but don't thank me, thank ***** for inspiring me to take care of the good people who take care of me. we take care of each other. it's not rocket science.

[peach fuzz]

so yeah, maybe joking about dead hookers is wrong, but you know what, being a cheap sneaky fuck is even more wrong in my opinion.

[flavor of the month]

so yeah, on to other things...

my man more or les has a new album coming out, the truth about rap, and has a release party on may 31st in toronto, at the reverb. check out his site for more info. he's a dope dude, used to spin at my old night, and has been making moves lately. look out for him on tour soon too, i think he's hitting some spots in the states and in europe. don't sleep on him, he's talented, and one of the nicest/coolest people you're likely to meet in this rap shit.

[keepin' the faith]

in other news, my homegirl fiona bloom in new york has some new shit going on. she's on the radio every monday, doing a segment called "live from ny," where she features five new up-and-coming artists each week, and talks about what's hot in ny. the show airs mondays from 5-7pm eastern time, peep it here. she's also got a new column happening here.

[vocab]

so what else is nehttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifw? i just did an interview with mca from the beastie boys a couple of days ago. it's for their new dvd awesome; i fucking shot that, which is coming out this summer. the article should come out soon in inside entertainment magazine. i will, of course, let you know when to look for that.

['93 'til infinity]

more tour dates are coming together, fuck i can't wait, sometimes it's like i've already left...

[get it together]

it feels like the amount of time i have is shrinking, and the list of things i have to do and money i have to spend is growing. money to spend on pressing cds, mailing out promo materials, buying transportation, making t-shirts, and all that jazz. finishing the damn book edits and design. recording new music. editing my movie. editing my video. editing my documentary. flying my brother out to london. sending moves money so he can pay his rent and buy beer so we can make our album. saving money for the damn tour.

[slow down]

i wrote some random shit in my journal today...

fuck i'm an actor sometimes. even in my own mind. well, fuck it, here it is...

[bonita applebum]

months go by and i still feel fucked up about it. i still think of it for most of the day. every day. my only solice is a world of distractions i create for myself - books, music, painting, video, work, planning, and the biggest distraction of them all, alcohol, drink away the pain, forget everything, surround yourself with laughter, people smiling, people laughing, people drunk, people dancing with their eyes, cutting lines of forgetting, moving so fast there never was such a thing as the past, only the future, only the next five minutes, another screwdriver twisting the insides of my mashed potato brain-bowl, more caffeine, more cocaine, more vodka, more jokes, let's be hilarious, let's entertain each other, let's laugh until we pass out, our faces as tennis balls lobbed back and forth between a pillow and a puke bucket, let's never cry, let's never start, or we'll never stop, let's feel nothing but rush, no, let's never stop, for the moment we sit still, no, fear that moment, for that is the moment the past will finally catch up, place a hand on our shoulder from behind and force us to turn around, to face those cold, cruel eyes, that dry, cracked skin, the scars and scabs that create these characters, no, keep running, stay in that locomotive, ring the bellsl, sound the alarms, feed that engine fire, faster and faster, no stops, people screaming in the back, ignore their cries, for they are your cries, they are all of your past selves, but they are behind you, they are women and children and frightened men, and they fear their own demise, they fear who you are becoming, where you are taking them, how you are changing them, but you know the things they used to know, and you know things they'll never know, and they've forgotten things you never knew existed, and you're all of them and none of them, and you're moving too fast, but you can't stop now, and you keep shovelling your fears into this furnace, and you're burning the past, and you're charring your skin, and you're smiling, a cockpit full of angels and demons, all trying to take control, and eventually, you know you will stop, you will slow down, you will and look out the window while the momentum slows, and you will step outside of yourself, into the bright sun, the sound of the cool water washing the soot from your cramped hands, and you will sit on a large stone by a fast river, and you will find stillness in it's movement, and you will breathe again, the slow, relaxed, deep breaths of a man who has found a moment of peace, and you will reach up to your shoulder, and touch the hand of that past, and invite all of the others to exit the train, to walk behind you, to become as one and to sit next to you at this river, and there will be silence, and in this silence, they, and you, will understand each other, will breathe the same air, and sink into the setting sun, and it will be as beautiful as it always has been, and the calm love will warm you as the cool truth freshens your spirit...

[otha fish]

so what do you do?

[jazz (we've got)]

[california dream]

[you never knew]

[breakadawn]

[van full of pakistans]

[find my way]

[fu la la la]

[set adrift]

[brown sugar]

[i'll take you there]

[runnin']

[elevators]

[lady don't tek no]

[saturday]

[tainted love]

good night everybody... i need to sleep, i've got work to do...

ryan

ps. listen to justin warfield.

we like fritz the cat...

which days want to be songs...

i have two current obsessions.

waiting.

and

the cocaine blunts message board.



first, waiting... a friend of mine told me about this movie a couple of months ago, and i borrowed his dvd of it. i was instantly addicted, and without exaggeration, burned a copy of it and watched it at least ten times in the first week i had it, and once a week since. even after having seen it about 20 times, i rented the dvd just to watch the extras. it now has it's place in my mind beside weird science and dirty work as a movie i can watch again and again, and never get sick of. i've worked off and on in bars for years, and shit, a million funny things happen every day, and i've always thought to myself, "damn, this should be a movie." well, it is. and it's fucking hilarious. it's surreal, watching a movie like that, where you're thinking to yourself, "i KNOW these people... i've worked with them..."



now, the cocaine blunts message board... anyone who knows me, knows that i am OBSESSED with obscure hip-hop from the late 80s and early-mid 90s. have you ever heard of anotha level? down south? y'all so stupid? raw fusion? probably not, but that's okay, that's what i do.

anyway, most of this i own on cassette and vinyl. doesn't do me much good when i don't currently own a cassette deck or a turntable. so, basically, i've got boxes of tapes, and crates and crates of vinyl collecting dust while i dig through used cd bins at independent record stores, book stores, and flea markets, trying to find cd copies of music no longer in print. a few months ago i discovered this message board, where cats who are into the same shit i'm into trade music. it's a pretty dope little concept, and i've found a ton of dope shit on there. it's not a bad deal, you check the requests, and if you have something someone is looking for, you put it up, and you put your requests up, and cats will up the stuff you need. i'm hooked. an addict.

damn, it's always something, isn't it?

i don't care, i'm listening to raw fusion right now, and i'm LOVING it. watch this video and tell me they're not amazing...



so what else do i need to tell you about...

i shot the video for child in rhyme on saturday. damn, long fucking day. on the go from 9am to 1am, but we got it done. editing will begin soon. i'm not even going to tell you the concept of the video, i want it to be a surprise.

we signed our distribution agreement for the ok cobra album, so it's coming out officially in july fuckers. yup. i'm stoked.

tour is coming together. coast to coast, july 12-august 12. i might even make it down to the states for a few days in august, before i come home. we'll see.

the book is in effect. more info on that soon.

jesus, i've been working my ass off the last few weeks, no sleep. my good friend addi came down from toronto for my video shoot (wait until you see his cameo, he KILLS it). he asked me,

addi: so, what do you do when you're not working?
me: work.

seriously. work. work. work.

man, it was a hard day, and everyone who came out and was a part of the video, cast and crew, worked their asses off and made it happen. the damn thing ended up costing me about three times what i had originally budgeted, out of my own pocket, but fuck it, it was worth it. well, hopefully it was worth it, we'll see when it's done...

super large love hugs to everyone who helped out...

man, i had to download netscape to do this blogger shit, since with safari some of the features don't show up (like highlighting something to make it a link, fuck, i don't know html...), but fuck, netscape sucks. hey, safari developers, update your shit so i can get this netscape shit off my computer...

so yeah, i don't know, it's 5am, i'm at the bar, thought i'd let y'all know what i'm up to, and uh, fuck, i don't know, kill a few minutes while i kill a smoke and sip on some beer.

apparently, my silly bosses are throwing a party for me next monday. jesus. last thing in the world i need (while i secretly love it...).

i need to slow down a bit soon, been dealing with so much "administrative" shit, my creative vibe is bugging out a bit. like, dealing with negotiating and organizing and strategizing with all things music/movie/book-related, i really need to slow down again for a few weeks and just record some new songs, work on a couple of paintings... but, i guess that's how things have to go sometimes... make something, then figure out how to share it with the world, then share it, then retreat back into yourself, make new things, then again, figure out how to share them with the world, then, once again, retreat, create, share, retreat, create, share, retreat, create, share...

time is so slow at this moment, i think i might be onto something...

you'll have to excuse me if i don't answer my phone for the next couple of weeks, got to go back through the last year of my journal and figure out which days want to be songs...

onyx...

onyx.

it's 4:47am, i'm sitting on my back porch, i just got home from work, i'm drinking a corona, smoking a belmont mild, it's raining, i love the sound of rain painted against the silence of late night/early morning. there is nothing here but me, wind, and water. and my laptop, wireless through the window. i pause, another sip, another drag...

another four days of working. another sunday-to-wednesday. another three days of creativity, my time, freedom...

i finished shooting my short film last weekend. rich never showed up. rich was supposed to shoot the damn thing. we talked the day before...

rich: what time are we meeting tomorrow to shoot?
me: 9:30 or 9:45, we start shooting at 10am. cool?
rich: yeah, cool, see you then.
me: cool.

the next morning i get to the bar at 9:45, with two coffees in hand. 10am rolls by. nobody. 10:15, my first actor shows up. 10:40, my second actor shows up. still no rich. 11:10, my third actor shows up. no sign of rich. i phone his house, talk to his stepmother.

stepmother: he never came home last night.
me: uh, oh, uh, he was supposed to meet me here at 9:30.
stepmother: sorry, no sign of him.

i phone his cell, no answer. 11:30 rolls around, i'm at the bar, waiting for rich, three actors sitting there, waiting to shoot their scenes. i go on msn, gavin is on, he has the same camera as rich.

me: hey man, what are you doing?
gavin: nothing.
me: hey, uh, fuck, we're supposed to be shooting my film right now, rich never showed up, i know you have the same camera, so, uh, can you spare two hours? i'll buy you a case of beer or shoot you some money or something.
gavin: yeah, that's cool.
me: wicked.

so, gavin comes through, we shoot the scenes, and yeah, i'm done shooting. (thanks gavin.) i still haven't heard from rich. i hope he's okay. editing will begin in a week or two, i just have to find an editor. was thinking of asking gavin, but he's moving to toronto next week, so nix that...

shooting a video this saturday for child in rhyme. mindbender's coming down for it, he's doing the chorus part. it's gonna be sick.

looks like we might need some people to be in it. want to be in it? get at me.

it's weird around here, i move out of this apartment in two months, but it feels like i've already left. so strange when your lease is almost up and the landlord starts showing your place to people, and you have to keep it all clean and organized so it looks all catalog-nice to keep your landlord happy. it's like, for the last two months of living there, you're not really able to live there, you're living in a shell. like the reality of your borrowed/rented accommodation suddenly becomes apparant, revealing itself to be the transitory experience you had forgotten it was. i won't live here in two months, so i have to pretend right now that i don't live here, so therefore, i never did. something like that. hey, it's now 4:59am, don't expect the clearest thought transmissions right now. thanks for understanding.

my mom is not in a good place right now, i don't think. shit, i have work to do. my brothers and i have work to do. this road trip this summer, shit, it's been two years in the works, we need this. well, fuck, maybe they don't need it, but fuck, i need it. therapy. our childhood. what the fuck happened?

still no words. nothing. i no longer exist. put that in your pipe and toke it.

random, i know.

things are progressing though. ran into joey today, he's got more shows booked for the tour. updates coming soon, i'll let you know as soon as things are confirmed. i'll post the tour dates on our myspace page.

i'm listening right now to a new beat i got from dj moves. we're going to be doing some stuff this summer when i'm in van.

one of my problems has always been that i always try to do too much. fuck, i've worn so many different hats, often at at the same time. i was going to book this tour myself, but you know what, i'm so fucking glad i've got joey booking it. one less thing i have to worry about. sure, i'll make a little less money, but you know what?, fuck money, who cares?, i don't have to think about it, that's worth more than any extra money i could keep doing it myself. he books it, i spend my time doing what i should be doing, finishing my film, and recording songs for my new album. done. deal. signed. sent. delivered. i'm yours. no, not yours, yours...

i got a festival in b.c. confirmed, shows on the east coast confirmed, and montreal, toronto, calgary, and edmonton all look like they're coming together. ok cobra motherfuckers.

i'm going to have a rap contest night at my bar soon. i'm going to make a mix cd of obscure early 90s rap shit that nobody's ever heard of, i'm going to invite people to come down and have some drinks while i play my mix cd. whoever can correctly name the highest number of songs off the mix cd, i'm going to give them a hundred bucks. you down with it? maybe we'll do it like a betting pool, everyone pays five bucks to enter, winner takes all.

i don't know where i'm going to be in four months. i hate/love that feeling.

it's thundering in the distance. thunder. distance. it's.

so, if we get our shit together, the album is in stores across canada the first week of july.

i got some cover designs back from the publisher for my book. the first batch were bunk. the new ones look good. i'm stoked. fuck, i mean, how cool is that going to be when the door bell rings one day and it's the ups guy dropping off a box of my books to me? jesus. i can't imagine. i mean, i can imagine, it feels so right. it's been time.

so many random thoughts, so little filter, so much time, so much entropy.

i want to write more kids, and i have music to share, but i'm juggling so much right now, it's like having three full-time jobs, dealing with this book, album, tour, movie, recording, and finding time to just chill and relax and paint and read a book once in a while. my friend elise gave me a book to read months ago, that i've been carrying around in my bag, and still haven't read yet, so much going on, and right when i'm typing this, feeling this chaotic commitment, or commitment to chaos, comes a huge gust of wind and rain, downpour, spiral, noise, the sky echoes my emotions, the leaves speak movement to my fingers, tiny drops of mist settle on my computer screen, and the gods tell me to go to sleep, to get warm, to get rested...

you have a lot to do tomorrow ryan, be ready.

and i still...

yes, i still...

and ***** knows...

and i know...

and none of it matters...

because i'm wrong, and i've always been wrong, and i tell myself that over and over, knowing that one day i'll convince myself, and i'll believe it, knowing that one day i'll be wrong for the rest of my life...

"it's perfect, ain't it?
this world, even when we hate it..."

good night sweet world,
sweet dreams to all of you...

pick a bigger weapon...

she was in my dream last night, she was in another one a few days ago as well. i don't remember either one. i do remember, the one a few days ago, it was long, i'm pretty sure it was just a conversation we had. our souls discussing some things while we slept. it's weird, as i haven't been thinking about her as much at all when i've been awake. i don't know...

i got up early today. like seven in the morning. went for a walk. the world is different, i have to remind myself once in a while.

listen to the coup.
their new album,
their old albums,
all of them.
i'm not kidding.

at the jacks...

Londoners award favourites at Jacks
Mon, May 1, 2006
By FREE PRESS STAFF

New faces and familiar favourites shared the hardware at the second annual Jack Richardson Music Awards gala last night at Club Phoenix... First-time fan choices also included... hip-hopper Fritz tha Cat (rap/R&B)...

i wasn't there. i was at work. i forgot to book it off, and then my whole staff was either moving or out of town so there was nobody to cover my shift. awesome.