The General Specific

Why New Years Was a Pleasent Surprise

1. Before setting out for a night with our friendly peers, I had a great meal with family; mom tried some new recipes.  All of the new recipes were great. Even the one involving eggplant.

2. I discovered a very nice vinyl collection and classy turntable at our first party destination.  I was able to play “yellow house” and almost the entire “feels” album.

3. While listenting to said vinyl, we played nintendo jeopardy and answered questions about elvis and phosphates.

4. Cam told us about his new job.

5.  We brought in the new year listening to “the cello song” by nick drake.

6.  We left Cam’s, and went to Stu’s by way of a nice brisk walk.

7. At Stu’s, we discovered an typical living room organ with numerous instrument samples and a built in drum machine that had a “polka” setting.

8. Amanda, upon hearing myself and Pete playing the organ, revealed that she had received an antique concertina for Christmas and I was allowed to play it; it was in her car, and she hastily brought it up upon request. A concertina is part of the accordion family, but does not have piano keys on one side.  It is octagonal in shape.  Basically, it’s a sailor’s accordion.  Easier to play than a full sized polka accordion.  Amanda’s concertina is lime green and produces the most wonderfully quirky sounds that I’ve heard, since like, ever.

9. I learned how to play the concertina.

10. Casey called me at 1:15 am to say hello, and ask if I was as drunk as she was.

Home From Denver

Basically, the title says it all. I am now home after visiting my older brother and his wife in Denver.  It was a very nice time. My family of five (plus one sister in law, who, is the sister me and Pete and the daughter Mom and Dad never had) was reunited after about a half year of geographic separation.  To keep typical epics short, Christmas was great and the turkey was huge. I make no joke when I say that the turkey weighed in at 30 pounds, and was probably equal to, if not greater than, the size of a trendy, but fuel efficient, smart car.  

What made this little vacation even better, aside from the usual Christmas family stuff, was seeing my older brother play hockey. Honestly, as you can probably guess, I don’t normally find myself outspoken when it comes to sporting events.  It’s not that I don’t like sports. I actually enjoy sports very much. The catch is, I don’t usually lose my proverbial “shit” when “this” or “that” player misses an important shot, hit, pass, etc. If emotion does register at sporting events, my outward expressions of excitement usually amount to an enthusiastic clap, a momentary transition from sitting to standing, and/or high fives exchanged with fellow spectators.

However, after watching my brother play CHL hockey (a league which is step or two below the NHL), my outward enthusiasm began to change. With a large plastic cup of weak american beer in hand, and the high amounts of anxiety that typically occurs when I watch anybody I care about do something they really love, I, along with my family, was losing my proverbial “shit” during the two games I was able to watch.  I swear, we all jumped ten feet and acted/screeched like excited spider monkeys when Dave scored a goal.  Truthfully, those moments were the highlight of our trip.  Even when his team lost their second game, I was still happy to be there. By no means did I end up a sore loser.

To make this excursion even better, I also made a nice post-Christmas purchase: A vinyl copy of Robert Johnson’s King of The Delta Blues Singers. All for the reasonable price of 10$.  I was about to purchase Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks as well, but, well, decided not to.  I might regret that decision later.

Moving on, I guess it’s typical of Canadians to go to the States and take note of differences between the two countries. So, to end this already lengthy blog, I’ve tried to comprise a succint list of specific, and peculiar, differences I noticed.  In no specific order, here they are:

• UG boots, or UG boot knock offs, are worn by every second female in the States. In Canada, however, UG boots, are suprisingly, not as thriving as in the ol’ home of the brave.  To throw out an approximate number, I would say every eighth to tenth Canadian female wears those boots of murderous destruction.  Moreover, upon entering an American Apparel in Denver, I saw a rather stylish male wearing UG boots.  This discovery threw me, and Pete, for a loop. 
• On American television, during the winter season at least, there is an abundance of nasal decongestant and diet commericials. Yes, it was that noticeable. To the point that flo-nase, nyquil, breathe right, etc. haunted me in my sleep.
• Going back to fashion: upon spending a day in downtown Denver, most of the stylish people to be found in such urban areas had their admirable fashion senses - skinny jeans, fancy jackets, scarfs, winter hats, and all - obliterated by noticeably large, and clunky, sorel winter boots.  I suppose I missed the Denver fashion boat of strict adherance to the use-values of sorel footwear. The result? My Nike Dunks stuck out like sore, cold, thumbs among the masses.  Peter’s leather slip-on loafers also didn’t stand a chance.
• Coca Cola tastes different and better; you can actually taste the cola nuts in American Coca Cola.  This statement, is of course operating under the assumption that cola flavoured soda is made from cola nuts.  I could be wrong.  Either way, American Coca Cola tastes different and better.
• A person panhandling asked me to spare “cheese for a change burger.”  What’s more, this person didn’t look homeless at all.  Rather, this person was in, and a leader of, a large group of seemingly affluent hippies.

I have also noted similarities between Canada and The US:

• Comprehension and enjoyment of my sarcastic humour is tough to extract out of people I don’t know or have just met.

That’s all for now. Feel free to add to my list. I hope your Christmas Holiday was as great as mine. 

Things All Humans and Animals Should Check Out

Albums-

Destroyer’s Rubies. It might be impossible to dislike the music of  someone who sings “I left England to the English” and “I’ve never read so-and-so.” 

Billie Holiday’s Songs for Distingue Lovers. Um, I feel like I’m in a jazz parlour smoking and drinking wine with a beautiful gal/femme fatale who doesn’t know I’m madly in love with her.

My Bloody Valentine’s Ecstacy and Wine.  Not as good as Loveless, but bouncier, janglier, and features less strata.  Sounds like an under-produced foundation of Blonde Redhead’s album 23.

Movies -

Deathproof.  By all conventional standards this movie should suck.  Somehow it doesn’t.

No Country For Old Men. Goodness. This movie doesn’t have a musical score, and at times neglects to explain why, or how, things happen.  In this proccess it still manages to make me more anxious and create more  suspense than the imminent threat of communism.

Songs -

All My Friends by LCD Soundsystem. Wow.

Octet by Deerhunter.  Double wow.

Dear Prudence by, yeah, The Beatles.  Triple wow.  Why? Because the song never gets old. 

Books -

Against the Day by Thomas Pynchon.  Genius.

Maus by Art Spiegelman. A strong argument for why comic books are amazing and socially/historically/culturally relavant. A shining example of a case in which anthropomorphism can be a good thing.

Notes From The Underground by Fydor Dostoyevsky.  Haven’t read it in a while, but a recent conversation about the book with a friend reminded me of how wonderfully spiteful and bitter the story is.

Food -

Grilled Cheese Sandwiches, Cashews, and Mashed Potatoes.

"80% of success in life is showing up"

If you watch movies as much as I do, and like me, have a profound knowledge of useless pop culture information - in this case biographical tidbits concerning notable auteurs - you will probably recognize the quote I’m using for my first entry’s title.  If you don’t recognize the quote, however, I will not keep you in the dark.  My blogs don’t roll that way. I am invoking the clever and insightful words of Woody Allen.  I hope that by the conclusion of this entry, this quote will justify my intent to start a blog that will certainly have no clear or cohesive editorial philosopy.

Before I go any futher, and talk about what my blog is, and is not, I need to address something for everybody’s peace of mind: Woody Allen did eventually marry his stepdaughter. What’s more, Oprah did once boldy say that Mr. Allen was one celebrity she’d never have as a guest on her prolific, heartfelt, and deeply inspiring talk show.  If asked about my thoughts on the whole “marrying the step daughter thing” I’d probably have to side with The Oprah on this one.  I guess there’s a first time for everything, as, I don’t often find myself seeing eye to eye with The Oprah. 

Now that we’ve moved passed the obvious, and you all know I don’t condone the personal marital choices of Woddy Allen, I think we can move into “the specifics” and admit that the guy has made a few slam dunk movies.  Even if the new ones are a bit clunky - to that point that Matchpoint has a scene in which the establishing shot is the cover of “Crime and Punishment”  (assumedly an anticipation of the film’s conclusion with a murder) - I still maintain that the old ones - continuing my use of sport and colloquial metaphors - knock conventional cinema out of the park. 

All that being said, it pains me to admit that even if I really wanted to say that I was a fan before his movies were raped and pillaged by the bourgeois numbskulls, popular culture cinema giant, and pipe-bomb-wielding anarchists, I can’t; wasn’t alive then; wasn’t conscious of any media apart from things that gave me milk and hugs.  The same can be said about my interest in The Smiths. Particularly my inquiries about Morrissey being a wanker.  Like, I can’t retrospectively look at The Smiths and say I was there before they were hip.  Rather, I can only study from a distance, and safely say that Morrissey is a wanker (even if The Smiths wrote a catchy tune or two in their day). 

Either way, hopefully this tangent has helped cleared the air-waves of any animosity towards, and controversy about, daughter marrying.  I admit, I might’ve opened another can of worms with the notion that Morrissey is, and sings like, a wanker.  But leaving this can of worms to another day and another entry, I will now abandon my lengthy tangent, and keep with the theme of my now explained title.

According to Mr. Allen, I’ve accomplished 80% of success in the blog industry for “showing up” with my invested, albeit sarcastic, opinions. Now I leave the other 20% to you, “the masses” as it were, to actually read what I write and respond with your opinions.  Yeah, this blog will have no clear focus.  I like it that way.