It was a Date.

I've already told you previously, I love the French. Here is yet another reason: shot in 1976 using a single take, C'etait un rendez-vous is a short film documenting a bumper-eyed view of a high speed drive through the streets of early morning Paris. It's shot in real-time, in real traffic, using a Mercedes-Benz 450SEL with blatant disregard of all traffic laws. The high revved engine notes + the heel-toe downshifts + bombing towards Arc de Triomphe and racing along Avenue des Champs-Elysees = absolute ace. And the clincher? The final shot, at the steps of Sacre Coeur Basilica, with the cityscape as the backdrop. Of course it's about a girl...

It's always about a girl.

Makin Bread.

Year 33 (which coincidently, was the jersey number of my childhood hero) is starting off right rad. A grand party to celebrate (okay, a winnebago isn't everyone's idea of grand - but amongst peeps - it felt it), righteous gifts, and now: a raise, annual bonus and a promotion! (yes, I'm tooting my own horn) Granted, it's more of a lateral promotion than an outright vertical one (with only a slight wage increase), but I ain't complaining. So now my official job title is : Mobile U.I. Designer.

Say huh? Well ,this is an example of what I be doin', when i'm hustlin' during the day:

I really, really dig designing for this thing. Out of all the platforms -BB, Java, Symbian (oops sorry, shoptalk) - iPhone is mad fun. And to think, that when I roamed the hallowed halls of post-secondary, my job didn't even exist...

"Jeez, this IS the future!"

(click pic for higher rez)

Foxy.

The attention to detail - extraordinary.

The humanizing idiosyncrasies of each character - charming.

Wes Anderson (of Royal Tenenbaums fame) really outdid himself this time.

Utter genius!

Go Ahead. Kill Yourself.

This week's edition of the Eye contains a brilliant piece about committing Facebook Suicide (something that I did ages ago). Penned by Chandler Levack, it contains some absolutely poignant gems:

"...logging on makes me break into a cold sweat, as if I could never measure up to the persona I’ve created."

"I came to realize that I couldn’t see the point of interacting with people in real life anymore, because I already knew everything about them. Better yet, it was what they wanted me to know... My Facebook profile was cooler than me anyway."

And finally giving insight into why she thinks people adore FB:

"Facebook offers the promise of fulfilling friendship, without the risk. You are in touch without ever having to be. You are interacting with thousands alone."

But with resolve, the author intends to leave her virtual life behind, and does, opting for a life:

"with real conversation(s) and friendship and no more unflattering pictures. One where people use grammar accurately and aren’t always bragging about making soup from scratch all the time." (sound familiar?)

I propose you jump ship as well.

Let the revolution begin.

On Point.

I'm still in slight awe over the awesomeness that these longhorns represent.

PJ definitely set the bar high this x'mas season.

Super fly!

Birthday Brunch.

Awoke one year older (thirty-three, bitches!), full of emotions, soaked in alcohol and in dire need of nourishment. Me and the Jo-O duo decided to hit up the spanking-new-to-the-hood, Hoof Cafe, housed in the former location of The Chelsea Room.

Little did we know, we were in store for a major slice of gastro-heaven.


Jo's plate: Cinnamon Toast, smothered in apricot marmalade and creme fresh, topped with a slab of foie gras (yeah, you read that right).

O's plate: Ploughman breakkie, complete with fresh mustard, salami, boar sausage, prosciutto, riopelle cheese, goose butter pate (i think), toast and pickles

My plate: suckled pig eggs benney on tea biscuits with a side of spiced pork rind arugula salad.

Absolutely divine. My vacay starts at the end of this week and since i'll be frequenting during the day often, you can expect the XL version of me in the New Year.

And, as if I couldn't get enough, I was treated to lovely late dinner at the parent resto, Black Hoof, which happens to be directly across the street. (thanks Pet!!)

Glorious Gluttony indeed!

A Take Away Show.

Impromptu musical acts performing in random locations around the city while a crew records the events as they happen.



Fuck, I love the French.

Catch the rest of the clips here
(thanks Sai)

House of Cool.

Old friends. New friends. Lost friends. Found friends. Drunk friends.

Handsome boys and pretty girls alike - all gathered to celebrate House of Vintage's new rad-tacular locale - in Parkdale, next to one of my go-to watering holes. (drunk, impulse purchases anyone?)

Yes, 'tis the season, it seems, and if last night's revelry was any sort of measure - it will be a grand holiday season indeed.

Daily Routine.

Currently Reading: The Game, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

(just finished): The Great Gatsby

Currently on Repeat: The xx, anything by the Black Keys, Blacroc, Life After Death

Currently watching: Californication (obvi.)

(just finished): Terminator Salvation (boo), Black Devil Doll (ummm - holy fuck. As in "Holy fuck, I can't decide if that was amazingly awesome", or "Holy fuck, that was eyeballs-fall-out bad.")

Tune in Tokyo: The Second Coming

I remember the scene clearly. 19 years young. Fresh outta high-school - immersed fully in all things "alt-rock" and "grunge". Family trip to visit the relatives in London. Wandering Soho and hearing the words:

"Dubstep" and "Garage".

What would follow next, would be a nearly decade long love affair with all things electronic.

Apparently, word on the beat: dub-step is mounting a comeback. My 2 cents? If it sounds anything like the tune above...

Bring it.

(minus the illicits, this time around)

Big Trouble.

I was trying to come up with a be-jillion Asian joke openers, when I realized it'd be much better if you all just showed up and joined in on the revelry.

Fan on the decks, Esther promoting and I'll be tending bar.

Oh, and some weird Irish man might be hangin round too...

(Yut ding ho ho wan, ah!)

bonus pts. if you can translate

Baby Hui's

Yea, you read that right. But don't worry - I ain't no baby daddy.

I think Baby Huey's should replace their namesake with my adopted surname because, since I now work there, it'd be clever - no?

Yea, you read that right: I now work there.

Starting this Fri.

Come visit.

Sir Auerbach.

An early show with the man & the Fast Five at the Phoenix.

Reezo, the General, myself and enough blues to fill a bulk-buy, prairie, denim store.

This man is legend!

(pic courtesy blogTO)

Been there. Done that.

People come in and out of the scene like seasons. When we haven’t seen someone in a while, we know that we’ve probably lost them to an overdose… or a relationship. When these new relationships start, it’s always with the best intentions that nothing will change. But slowly and gradually it happens. The new couple starts to leave the parties earlier and earlier, until eventually, they start hosting dinners at home instead. People bring wine and they talk about their little projects. Like the one’s they’re developing together: a catering business or a clothing store or a fashion line - and they talk about how they’ve started going to the gym and they’re doing cardio and that they have an awesome personal trainer with a Russian name. They’re being more “productive”. They’re “growing up”. Eventually, there are less dinners, or rather, the kids “not-in-relationships” get invited less and less and the lovely couple suddenly disappears. Off the radar, just like that, and the party people stop trying to call, and everybody’s life just goes on.

And it’s always when we least expect it, you know, when we’ve finally found peace with our new dancing partners for “Lust For Life” and Arcade Fire and when we have new people to do Patron Jager shots with, that one of them re-appears again with a brand new haircut and some cute clothes telling us how they really lost themselves in that last relationship. It was good, they don’t regret it, but New York City Toronto isn’t made for settling down. They can’t wait to re-connect with themselves and their old friends again. But, you know, it’s never as comfortable as the last time around. There are too many new faces. The party names have changed. The DJs are mixing harder, stronger, faster. And after the over-emotional, over-compensating hugs that last as if we were Vietnam war vets reunited, they realize that they have changed too and that they have nothing in common with the new regime.

Excerpt from ‘L.E.S. Artistes (The Cassius Kent Memoirs)’

Musical footnotes.

I absolutely love it when the minds at ingenious advertising firms execute clever, creative installations. What makes it even better though, is when a large, global corporation embraces this creativity to push their brand, without marketing a specific product. The brand identity behind the concept is still there, but at least the company is not relegating to the "buybuybuy because we want to sellsellsell" paradigm that so many others endorse.



Now if i could just find that "Billie Jean" sidewalk...

I'm not a bird.

I tweeted.

A grand total of two times.

Then I also realized how much of a twat i felt like after tweeting, so I promptly quit.

I'll stick to my guns. Please and thanks.

Temper. Temper.

I prefer leggy, svelte, cheekboned specimens - that is a given. And what better week to make the acquaintances of these types, than TFW? However, I eschewed all things fashionable, to see these guys jam again...

Yeah, I still think their debut studio album is...well, a touch too studio, but their live shows???

Hot. Damn. (cue water-drumming, feet-hustling, jam session here)

The Horseshoe: free(!), loud and packed. Rush Hour represent! The ability to pick-up ("Mate, has it really been four years?!?") and Jameson and Dial-a-bottle and wax nonsensical in a shitty hotel room...

Too bad there wasn't a gay man's bare bottom in sight.

(and the award for the most-random-bump-in goes to... Echo & The Bunnymen WTF?!?!)

I got fixed.

No, no not the kind that I've been contemplating, as of late, but in fact, the other kind...

Started in little Italy and headed north - Crawford, Roxton and everything in between to (almost) Dupont. Looped back down to College and Dufferin where I picked up SharkvsBear. We trekked down Sorauran/Ronces, over the Gardiner and to the waterfront, where we made our way to the Humber Bridge. We doubled back and came up through the CNE gounds, eventually ending up at Trinity where we split to go our separate ways.

My only complaint about the whole endeavour?

God damn - I should've done this way sooner...

Canine Desires

A creative re-imagining...



You can catch Iggy's original here.

(thanks rickles...)

Forever Young.

A weekend where I re-captured my youth by ingesting letters of the alphabet, two nights in a row. Seemed like such a brilliant idea at the time, but in (the oh-my-god-i-can't-believe-i-feel-like-this) reality? Not so much. But then again, that's the beauty of hindsight, isn't it? Hopefully, this will be a lesson well-learned. But somehow I feel, as per usual, I'm going to receive a big, fat, red, capital "F"...

Friday night - complete with requisite draped hooded getup - I ventured well outside my geographic comfort zone to the KoolHaus, to witness this:



Then onto Saturday - where after what seemed like a blink of rest - (and a massive endurance of Chinese brunch with the 'rents) - I tackled Toronto's annual, all night art-fest: Nuit Blanche. I fully intended to make this year's excursion less about the party and more about the "art" - and for the most part I succeeded. My barometer of success?? I actually made it East of Bathurst for once! But yet, eventually, it ended up being about the party after all; the adage "...an old dog, new tricks" - well you can surmise the rest...

Quote of the night? "I'm here with XXXXX and I'm going to deliver babies on his doorstep - that's my art installation..." (thanks J.)

Holy Christ; I suck at this game.

Yep, that's about right (click for lager pane...)

[courtesy: xkcd.com]

Blakroc

I've never been a real hip-hop head.

I don't know my Craig Macks from my J-Dillas and sometimes, I can barely discern the difference between N.W.A and P.E. However, I do appreciate the genre enough to publicly bemoan distressed Run-DMC shirts being sold at Forever XXI (are you serious?!?!?)

More importantly though, I do and always have, appreciated the fine art of a lyricist rhyming magical over slick beats, and my affinity towards potently poetic hip-hop is well known - especially when those rhymes are juxtaposed with heavy, genre-bending guitar riffs (insert RATATAT remixes here...)

Which is why, when I came across this tidbit this morning, I simply, literally fell out of my chair...



I.cannot.effin.wait.

Today and probably tomorrow too...

"No matter how happily a woman may be married, it always pleases her to discover that there is a really nice man who wishes she were not."
-Mary Catherine Bateson

"Tomorrow is a long long time when you've lost your way"
-Phoenix

Gasping for Gaspar.

I was recently reminded of the French film maker Gaspar Noe, whose latest film (unbeknown to me) screened at this year’s TIFF. Apparently, it seems some things don’t change after all.

As one recent reviewer exclaimed while writing about Enter the Void, Noe’s latest offering- “If the following things disturb you, then you should probably avoid this film: strobe lights, drug use, shaky hand-held cameras, graphic sexuality, sperm, spinning cameras, psychedelic imagery, blood, gay sex, abortion, breastfeeding (and) a graphic auto wreck..”

Hmmm… sounds like a perfect companion to a bag full of kernels. I for one simply can’t wait for a North American distributor to pick up the rights (I’m looking at you, Criterion…)

Oh, and this little clip I’ve included? While it’s not quite up to the normal shockshockshock of Noe’s usual fare --- a long legged beauty writhing around in lingerie playing with her pussy? ---Sorry (j’taime!) and I simply couldn’t resist.

It's a slow day.

From the "this-is-cool-as-shit" category, I bring you....

This.

Awe-inspiring and totally amazing.

LifeTrack Vol. 1: The Early Edition

On a not-so-secret, secret patio on the College Strip, the conversation turned to this:

"Make a soundtrack of your life and give it to your friends. This soundtrack could be songs you like, songs you grew up on, songs that tell a story - and it doesn't have to be contained on one disk - it could be spread out across volumes..." (not an actual quote because, seriously, who talks like that?)

Thus, Vol. 1 was born.

I grew up on these tracks, but not by my own accord. These tracks were what my old man listened to; in the family rec room, on long road trips and everything in between. I remember listening to these long before I started purchasing my own tunes (I got a late start) and the tracks give way more insight into his personality, than mine.

But one things for certain: for my old man? He has a pretty solid taste in music...

(this is not a complete list in any way, shape or form - not even close.)



Money for Nothing - Dire Straits


Sweet Dreams - Eurythmics


Message in a Bottle - The Police


Billie Jean - Mike Jackson


Hungry Like the Wolf - Duran Duran


Like A Virgin - Madonna


Everybody Wants to Rule The World - Tears for Fears


Sound of Silence - Simon and Garfunkel

Bullet.Proof: A warning

“I don’t think you’ll ever love me” she said.

And you know what? She was right.

I wouldn’t love her – at least not in the way she wanted now, if ever. I'm seeing a similar pattern emerging from my quasi-relationships; the inability to move emotionally forward past a certain, specific point.

It’s beginning to look like Cupid might need something heavier than mere arrows for this one.

Don't say i didn't warn you...

"En Garde!"

(Def: en garde (äN gärd') interj. Used to warn a fencer to assume the defensive position preparatory to a match.)

No introduction needed...

"Hi Ms. Summer 09, so finally nice to meet you"

Common coffee and Sunnyside dips. Followed by freon naps and ventures into District 9*.
Then it was a most Social birthday indeed; complete with requisite summertime vodka melons hoisted over rappin rock n' rollers...
Then the flashiest of Sorauren pads, adorned with an equally flashy crew, reveling to the wee hours of the rising dawn.
And in between it all? Once missed flames finally lit (only to be extinguished all too soon); coupled with melancholy mournings over ones that will never be - no matter how hard I wish from the sidelines (cue befuddled, pre-programmed, pangs of jealousy here.)

Ahhh yes, Ms. Summer 09, about time you showed up.

Glad you could make it.

(if you only see one movie this summer, this should be it - despite what PJ claims...)

There are no words...

The 11th Letter: The Tale of Two.

Stolen from Kevin Barnes and re-imagined as a two part play (by me). And apparently that is just the way it's supposed to be....

[Act One]

The past is a grotesque animal
And in its eyes you see
How completely wrong you can be
How completely wrong you can be

The sun is out, it melts the snow that fell yesterday
Makes you wonder why it bothered

I fell in love with the first cute girl that I met
Who could appreciate Georges Bataille
Standing at Swedish festival discussing "Story of the Eye"
Discussing "Story of the Eye"

It's so embarrassing to need someone like I do you
How can I explain, I need you here and not here too
How can I explain, I need you here and not here too

I'm flunking out, I'm flunking out, I'm gone, I'm just gone
But at least I author (offer) my own disaster
At least I author (offer) my own disaster

Performance breakdown and I don't want to hear it
I'm just not available
Things could be different but they're not
Things could be different but they're not

The mousy girl screams, "Violence! Violence!"
The mousy girl screams, "Violence! Violence!"*
She gets hysterical because they're both so mean
And it's my favorite scene
But the cruelty's so predictable
It makes you sad on the stage
Though our love project has so much potential
But it's like we weren't made for this world
(Though I wouldn't really want to meet someone who was)

Do I have to scream in your face?
I've been dodging lamps and vegetables
Throw it all in my face, I don't care

Let's just have some fun
Let's tear this shit apart
Let's tear the fucking house apart
Let's tear our fucking bodies apart
But let's just have some fun

[Act Two]

Somehow you've red-rovered the gestapo circling my heart**
And nothing can defeat you
No death, no ugly world

You've lived so brightly
You've altered everything
I find myself searching for old selves
While speeding forward through the plate glass of maturing cells

I've played the unraveler, the parhelion
But even apocalypse is fleeting
There's no death, no ugly world

Sometimes I wonder if you're mythologizing me like I do you
Mythologizing me like I do you

We want our film to be beautiful, not realistic
Perceive me in the radiance of terror dreams
And you can betray me
You can, you can betray me

But teach me something wonderful
Crown my head, crowd my head
With your lilting effects
Project your fears on to me, I need to view them
See, there's nothing to them
I promise you, there's nothing to them

I'm so touched by your goodness
You make me feel so criminal
How do you keep it together?
I'm all, all unraveled

But you know, no matter where we are
We're always touching by underground wires

I've explored you with the detachment of an analyst
But most nights we've raided the same kingdoms
And none of our secrets are physical
None of our secrets are physical
None of our secrets are physical no.

* if you caught the "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" reference - bravo. You are now officially my hero
** are you kidding me? My stomach just dropped from all the awesome-ness

Tune in Tokyo: The Dark Edition.

I've stood in a thousand street scenes
Just around the corner from you
On the edge of a dream that you have
Has anybody ever told you it's not comin' true?

Farewell my black balloon

(africa)

At least it ain't crack.

Just fed my addiction this morning.

The sense of elation as I inhale your intoxicating aroma,
my hands caressing your supple curves.

You arrival is not soon enough... ahhhhhhh...

(ps. you're a pervert)

Tune in Tokyo: Pop is Dead

This is the only MJ related post i will make.

"so many facelifts, his face flew off..."

Nothing cool ever happens here.

he might be played out (not really), but you can't tell me you wouldn't want to peep this:

Geek chic...

I'm such a geek. Check out my new favicon! (bonus pts. if you even know what a favicon is. And by 'bonus pts.' i mean 'free beer'.)

KaBlooey...

More often than not, I'm sure this is how the Sundayscool® congregation feels after a certain member divulges his witticisms on us...

(hint: his name begins with P and ends with J)

We wouldn't have it any other way...




(courtesy the warehousecomic.com)

Tune in Tokyo: Public Service Announcement

"who shot Biggie Smalls? If we don't get em', they goan get us all..."

Tv on the Radio is making me Telepathe(ic)

Caught both shows this past week and trying to compare the two experiences would be akin to comparing the Stones and Beatles - can't and shouldn't be done. TVotR (in all their glory) packed an ill-suited (venue wise) Sound Academy. Tunde Adebimpe's mesmerizing onstage antics and the blistering 90 min set was all this head-bopper could hope for. And I'll even un-ashamedly admit: reaching back into the TVotR canon and performing some personal faves was simply genius, because let's face it, who dosen't like to publicly sing along to tunes usually reserved for the morning shower?

Quote of the eve: "Dude, check out the guy with the double popped collars!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" (yes that many exclamation marks are necessary)

And how's this for a segue? Watching guitarist Dave Sitek perform one night - to catching an act whose album he produced two nights later - fellow Brooklynites Telepathe. I must hand it to this "we used to be lovers" twosome. Despite being heavily plagued by serious sonic malfunctions (aka technical difficulties), they somehow managed to hype the intimate El Mo crowd into some decent feet shuffles...

And in between it all? I managed to catch yet another show, although this one was of the sit-down, multiplex variety. I'm advising you to get up on Up, Pixar's latest little darling. The characters felt substantial, the storyline was captivating, and the animation impeccable. (Like you would expect anything less) Go see it!

It goes a little sumthin' like this...

Raybans and Ray-beams. Although apparently, this summer it's actually supposed to be about Frogskins. But does it really matter?? Nay - as long as someone at some point whispers:

"I got mad love for you shorty. That's on the real..."

Wherein I reply: "Yeah? And all I wanna do is listen to boyz II men when I get with you..."

Summer-Summer-Summertime

Keep Pluggin'

...at least until i can 100% say "I told you so..."

Say Again?

Shit stomped in more ways than one, two sides of multiplex…
Longing for one, one for another, reminiscing about past others,
letting them all slip through these fingertips…
Bros before h… or wait – is it now supposed to be the other way around?
Then the Loyals reared their regal heads;
Cardinal principles re-polished, testaments affirmed…
And as they say: “The kids? They’re gonna be alright”

So this is why people have kids... (attempt two)

Since my initial post sorta doesn't make without the video (removed by poster), I give you reason number two for potentially procreating...(like i need to say it: Holy eff!)



oh and btw? I so wanna rock his haircut...

Wicked, this way it does come.

An odd pairing by a couple of oddfellows,
Followed by the beginnings of strange, strange people.
Amused myself with a few Salvadorian Darlings and one duck named Howard,
But in reality all i really prefer is the company of some bluegrass Beautys.
More than ever, i still feel like this,
But when in Rome.... right?

A name like no other

I hated my name growing up.

Well maybe not "hated".

More like disliked (esp. when a certain Jedi movie came out in Grade 8)

Apparently though, this guy likes my name just as it is.

About time.

(peep his portfolio...he's quite good)

That's about right.

Subway ride. Hash browns and breakfast sandwiches. The new Yeah (x3) leaking through my headphones - I read this:

By this age our folks
had fought wars, had kids, built lives.
We're just hungover.
Monuments to our potential
we are paralyzed by all we could do.
Grow the fuck up, right?
It's simple to say.
But then...
Will we still get our cake coke??

(fuck I am restless)

Skin Ink pt. 3

Pt. 3 because it's my third one.

T-minus 17 days...

Want List

There's subtle minimalism and then there's these ridonkilous pieces...























Designed by Giuliano Fujiwara (courtesy Selectism.com.... size 44 if you really want me to have them)

The Bellewoods give me wood.

Kinda crushing on the sound these local boys put out.

Dosen't hurt that Pastor Watles plays a mean axe for these guys as well.

Oh, and that charasmatic lead singer? He's kinda handsome in that "bear" sort of way...

Bellewoods. Bellewoods. Bellewoods.

The birds are chirping, the buds are blooming, and i'm way wasted.

CMW, fashion week, G-money's back, 4 am last call, yadda, yadda.

wash, rinse, repeat.

If the first week of spring is any inclination, this summer will prove to be epic.

Countless possibilities...

light punch, light punch, back, light kick, hard punch is consuming me a little bit. And if you get that reference? I'm totally buying you a shot the next time i see you at the bar...

OldBoy

Given the stagnant appeal of most offerings on the big screen and "on-demand" of late, I decided to re-visit a movie that struck a resounding cord with me the first time I saw it. It didn't fail to impress during this second screening either.

Powerful and highly, highly recommended...

The Singular.

nje, un, ein, uno, um, jedan, en, een, uks, isa, yksi, egy, satu, viens, unu, mot, "yut", ena, bir...

(no matter how you say it, one sometimes is the loneliest number...)

Want list

will 09' finally be the year?

(it doesn't even have to be a "Vincent". just as long as it's a cafe racer)







March 19th update: *** fucking drooooooool***

Nostradamus ain't got notin' on me...

I wrote about them here (first) and I don't usually do this, buuuuuuut....

I told you so.

(and yes I'm rooting for them b/c the singer is part Asian...Hello, VHS or Beta anyone??)

March 4th update: (by way of S&M) posted on the interweb here. (i know, but exposure is exposure, right?)

Pro(se before Hos)

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things that speak directly to your soul. If you do this your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality non-existent. And don't bother concealing your thievery-celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: "It's not where you take things from-it's where you take them to."

Me ...stolen from Jim Jarmusch

Goong Hai Fat Choi

I haven't posted in a while and was considering penning a New Year's related post, when I suddenly remembered: I'm Chinese--(see you on the 26th...)