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.