Friday, October 26, 2007
I`m a Bad (Bad) Mawfuckin DJ.
This is two posts in one.
I`ve found that I`m listening to pretty much nothing but In Tune and On Time.
Liam. I need you to find me a copy of this, whether it be burned or not. I have holes in what I can find, and that needs to change. I`m missing the integral "Mashin on the Motorway" among others.
Well, I`ve quit my job as a door to door man. I won`t disclose as to why, but I will say that in my lifetime, I will never do a job quite like that again, which is why I`m happy for the experience. I did quit by the way, and I didn`t get fired. I just don`t really want to talk about why.
I`ve decided that despite the fact that I`ve been trolling YouTube for a good cross section of videos to post, that I won`t.
London is a strange city. If one were to read my personal logs, one would find that I have a lot of problems with the university aspect of this city. Jordan, Carl and Darryl were down last weekend, and while the story is sordid and a little choppy in my head due to excessive alcohol consumption, I will say that I have little to no respect for Western studentia in their full glory.
I`ve been making it a personal mission to use the library resources (which are vast) on campus, and even just sitting in their cliquey little cafes and daytime bars, I`ve found that either:
a) all of the quality, decently intelligent people that maintain the high academic standing of a school like this go into hiding or,
b) they are all engineers, whose ability to drink AND do well amazes even me. Perhaps there is a fraternity secret amongst these young men and women that is not available to the general public. Nyugen, care to share?
Honestly, I`m at a loss. Most Western girls dress like little $300/outfit clones and apparently drink only starbucks coffee and semen.
I hang out at a starbucks, and watch some of these girls try to function. I have a serious question for you guys...is Starbucks actually considered like some kind of Mecca for pseudo intellectuals? Why do people come there to discuss the application of Brechtian Theory as applied to Orhan Pamuk, or the benefits of a Communications Degree?
Seriously, call me bitter, but these people dressed up in their cute little outfits, trying desperately to fit the bill as an "indie intellectual" discuss these useless topics amongst themselves like a bunch of ass sniffing dogs.
Just sad, that`s all.
What the really dissapointing part is, is that this sort of functions as a eulogy for the dream that I had that perhaps university would offer me a solace from the ignorance of high school, and that Laurier had been a mere wrong choice for that kind of solace.
No. All universities are the same, and academic purity is a thought that while once may have been honorable, exists only in the bowels of the deep ravine of time with all the other dreams like level-headed women, something for nothing, and rock and roll.
But shit, who the hell am I? I`m just bitter, right?
PEACE.
THE BiZZLE`s Opium-erant.
Post #2 (written a week prior)
Hey,
Well, it would seem our little Blogger O`Sphere is falling apart quite briskly.
Liam`s concern has been expressed, and though I would love to see the 'sphere stay alive, I truly think it`s going to be a distant memory in but a few months.
Liam raised a good point in his post about how we write little more than travelogues and video playlists of musical interests. His hypothesis that we do little more interesting in our lives than get drunk and pass out is a sad showing of the end result of the last few years. Were we really once closer? God..what happened there?
I think we need a good showing of support for each other. Ellen, I implore you to keep writing your blog, and Jordan, Liam, Nora (if you`re out there), Ben, M-TOD, and all those other periodical bloggers, I ask that we give this one more shot, because if we don`t..it`s over, and our lives aren`t really going to intersect later on down the road as we believed they would in Carl`s basement a half decade ago.
Give it a go.
Blake.
I`ve found that I`m listening to pretty much nothing but In Tune and On Time.
Liam. I need you to find me a copy of this, whether it be burned or not. I have holes in what I can find, and that needs to change. I`m missing the integral "Mashin on the Motorway" among others.
Well, I`ve quit my job as a door to door man. I won`t disclose as to why, but I will say that in my lifetime, I will never do a job quite like that again, which is why I`m happy for the experience. I did quit by the way, and I didn`t get fired. I just don`t really want to talk about why.
I`ve decided that despite the fact that I`ve been trolling YouTube for a good cross section of videos to post, that I won`t.
London is a strange city. If one were to read my personal logs, one would find that I have a lot of problems with the university aspect of this city. Jordan, Carl and Darryl were down last weekend, and while the story is sordid and a little choppy in my head due to excessive alcohol consumption, I will say that I have little to no respect for Western studentia in their full glory.
I`ve been making it a personal mission to use the library resources (which are vast) on campus, and even just sitting in their cliquey little cafes and daytime bars, I`ve found that either:
a) all of the quality, decently intelligent people that maintain the high academic standing of a school like this go into hiding or,
b) they are all engineers, whose ability to drink AND do well amazes even me. Perhaps there is a fraternity secret amongst these young men and women that is not available to the general public. Nyugen, care to share?
Honestly, I`m at a loss. Most Western girls dress like little $300/outfit clones and apparently drink only starbucks coffee and semen.
I hang out at a starbucks, and watch some of these girls try to function. I have a serious question for you guys...is Starbucks actually considered like some kind of Mecca for pseudo intellectuals? Why do people come there to discuss the application of Brechtian Theory as applied to Orhan Pamuk, or the benefits of a Communications Degree?
Seriously, call me bitter, but these people dressed up in their cute little outfits, trying desperately to fit the bill as an "indie intellectual" discuss these useless topics amongst themselves like a bunch of ass sniffing dogs.
Just sad, that`s all.
What the really dissapointing part is, is that this sort of functions as a eulogy for the dream that I had that perhaps university would offer me a solace from the ignorance of high school, and that Laurier had been a mere wrong choice for that kind of solace.
No. All universities are the same, and academic purity is a thought that while once may have been honorable, exists only in the bowels of the deep ravine of time with all the other dreams like level-headed women, something for nothing, and rock and roll.
But shit, who the hell am I? I`m just bitter, right?
PEACE.
THE BiZZLE`s Opium-erant.
Post #2 (written a week prior)
Hey,
Well, it would seem our little Blogger O`Sphere is falling apart quite briskly.
Liam`s concern has been expressed, and though I would love to see the 'sphere stay alive, I truly think it`s going to be a distant memory in but a few months.
Liam raised a good point in his post about how we write little more than travelogues and video playlists of musical interests. His hypothesis that we do little more interesting in our lives than get drunk and pass out is a sad showing of the end result of the last few years. Were we really once closer? God..what happened there?
I think we need a good showing of support for each other. Ellen, I implore you to keep writing your blog, and Jordan, Liam, Nora (if you`re out there), Ben, M-TOD, and all those other periodical bloggers, I ask that we give this one more shot, because if we don`t..it`s over, and our lives aren`t really going to intersect later on down the road as we believed they would in Carl`s basement a half decade ago.
Give it a go.
Blake.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
This is the song that doesn`t end...it just goes on and on my friends....
So first, I pose to you this question. If you possessed turntables, would you challenge this man? That is DJ Q-Bert. He is one of the legendary Invisibl Skratch Piklz and he is amazing. You might also recognize this famous Pikl.
If you can`t tell, I`m absolutely enamoured of this whole DJ thing.
So, here goes a long winded story that will eventually lead back to this topic. Eventually.
Work took me to Toronto this weekend. It was a leader`s conference, which is basically just a bunch of high level management talking to us about how we need to improve our pitches and lives and images and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.
The conference itself was a useless sack of horseshit. I didn`t have a lot of fun, but I did learn a lot.
Anyways, that`s not the point. The point is..we took Toronto turf and went out on a Team Day. Once a week my business goes around on Team Day. What that means is that you`re placed into competitive teams to see who can drop the most deals in the day while working with someone you rarely or have never worked with. Well, because offices from Whitby, Ottawa and Toronto as well as us were there, we had a larger, province-wide Team day. Now, on Team day, bonuses are usually put up. On an office level, these usually range no higher than a hundred dollars and rarely that. Because there were many high level managers there, they put up a larger bonus to the "high rolling" (most deals dropped) team. Teams are two people, and Eric from Ottawa and I took that money home.
"But Blake, how much is that? 50? 100?"
No. I took home 200 dollars in cash, plus my wage, plus my weekly bonus for deals dropped. I am god. What makes this so great is that I was up against people who have years of experience. I beat them.
So, today, we went to the Delta Chelsea on Yonge street in downtown Toronto, and I went to this boring conference. Afterwards, I realized how close I was to Ellen`s, and I called her.
I told her to meet me in the hotel bar, where I would be sipping on 7 dollar rum and cokes and waiting for her. She arrived fashionably late, and we began to chat about life and things in general.
We toured from there when I realized that I didn`t want to pay that much for shabby rums (on a sidenote, they made the best liquid cocaine I`ve ever had. It was a perfect burn, and I want to know how they did it.) and we got coffee. We continued to chit chat, and all was well, and my boss sent me a text message explaining that he needed to know where I was, and that I was to come back to the hotel.
I left with Ellen, and headed back. I found my coworkers drinking 23 dollar pitchers, and commiserating as to how much better I was than them. They informed me that they too were tired of high cost of mediocre drinking, and wanted to find another bar.
My coworker Cain noticed Ellen was there, and being a bit of a creeper and a horndog, immediately began hitting on her. Hilarity ensued.
I watched Ellen get hit on for a while, and kindly informed her to stay away from him, as he was a strange man.
We moved onward to a bar behind the Delta, and I sat beside Ellen, with Cain in quick pursuit. He hit on her more, and Ellen switched from making fun of me to defending me.
I ate two plates of the best Garlic Bread with Cheese ever and enjoyed a drink.
SO...here we see the full circle.
Ellen demonstrated that she needed help as far as her musical taste was concerned. I offered a few choice cuts for her to download and enjoy. She asked me what I was giving her, and I told her "DJ music". She commented that that was synonymous with Techno and she didn`t like Techno.
I shook my head..and moved onward.
Techno is not real DJ music. What is a DJ that can`t cut and scratch? I mean, I want talent here, not just some asshole with a beat from one hit, and the lyrics of another, and to make a mix. That`s garbage. Make music with awesome samples and scratch in awesome patterns. It`s a subtle art, and I love it.
Techno is also more danceable than Scratching. Scratching is like guitar solo songs. It`s only cool if you like the shit. But please don`t call Scratching Techno.
So, with that being said..I`ll give you more.
No one special. He has a cool mix and creates his own beats later by scratching. I hear that`s really hard to do. Scratching. Turntablism.
The Musical Equivalent of Journalismo. Techno.
Good Luck, God Speed.
THE BIZZLE and his OPERANT.
If you can`t tell, I`m absolutely enamoured of this whole DJ thing.
So, here goes a long winded story that will eventually lead back to this topic. Eventually.
Work took me to Toronto this weekend. It was a leader`s conference, which is basically just a bunch of high level management talking to us about how we need to improve our pitches and lives and images and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.
The conference itself was a useless sack of horseshit. I didn`t have a lot of fun, but I did learn a lot.
Anyways, that`s not the point. The point is..we took Toronto turf and went out on a Team Day. Once a week my business goes around on Team Day. What that means is that you`re placed into competitive teams to see who can drop the most deals in the day while working with someone you rarely or have never worked with. Well, because offices from Whitby, Ottawa and Toronto as well as us were there, we had a larger, province-wide Team day. Now, on Team day, bonuses are usually put up. On an office level, these usually range no higher than a hundred dollars and rarely that. Because there were many high level managers there, they put up a larger bonus to the "high rolling" (most deals dropped) team. Teams are two people, and Eric from Ottawa and I took that money home.
"But Blake, how much is that? 50? 100?"
No. I took home 200 dollars in cash, plus my wage, plus my weekly bonus for deals dropped. I am god. What makes this so great is that I was up against people who have years of experience. I beat them.
So, today, we went to the Delta Chelsea on Yonge street in downtown Toronto, and I went to this boring conference. Afterwards, I realized how close I was to Ellen`s, and I called her.
I told her to meet me in the hotel bar, where I would be sipping on 7 dollar rum and cokes and waiting for her. She arrived fashionably late, and we began to chat about life and things in general.
We toured from there when I realized that I didn`t want to pay that much for shabby rums (on a sidenote, they made the best liquid cocaine I`ve ever had. It was a perfect burn, and I want to know how they did it.) and we got coffee. We continued to chit chat, and all was well, and my boss sent me a text message explaining that he needed to know where I was, and that I was to come back to the hotel.
I left with Ellen, and headed back. I found my coworkers drinking 23 dollar pitchers, and commiserating as to how much better I was than them. They informed me that they too were tired of high cost of mediocre drinking, and wanted to find another bar.
My coworker Cain noticed Ellen was there, and being a bit of a creeper and a horndog, immediately began hitting on her. Hilarity ensued.
I watched Ellen get hit on for a while, and kindly informed her to stay away from him, as he was a strange man.
We moved onward to a bar behind the Delta, and I sat beside Ellen, with Cain in quick pursuit. He hit on her more, and Ellen switched from making fun of me to defending me.
I ate two plates of the best Garlic Bread with Cheese ever and enjoyed a drink.
SO...here we see the full circle.
Ellen demonstrated that she needed help as far as her musical taste was concerned. I offered a few choice cuts for her to download and enjoy. She asked me what I was giving her, and I told her "DJ music". She commented that that was synonymous with Techno and she didn`t like Techno.
I shook my head..and moved onward.
Techno is not real DJ music. What is a DJ that can`t cut and scratch? I mean, I want talent here, not just some asshole with a beat from one hit, and the lyrics of another, and to make a mix. That`s garbage. Make music with awesome samples and scratch in awesome patterns. It`s a subtle art, and I love it.
Techno is also more danceable than Scratching. Scratching is like guitar solo songs. It`s only cool if you like the shit. But please don`t call Scratching Techno.
So, with that being said..I`ll give you more.
No one special. He has a cool mix and creates his own beats later by scratching. I hear that`s really hard to do. Scratching. Turntablism.
The Musical Equivalent of Journalismo. Techno.
Good Luck, God Speed.
THE BIZZLE and his OPERANT.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Oh, an additional note.
In the Kid Koala video, you can see how he turns the regular sounding trumpet into what sounds like a muted trumpet by (and this is only a postulate) turning up the treble and canning the bass on that track. I think that would give it a kind of "treble overload" sound that would vaguely resemble a muted trumpet. If I`m right, Kid Koala`s a fucking genius...if I`m wrong, he`s a clever clever man, and a fucking genius.
Just thought I`d add that.
Just thought I`d add that.
Avalanches Above, Business Continues Below.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=U8BWBn26bX0&mode=related&search
I do feel it`s important for the entirety of humanity to watch this video. Unfortunately, being radio friendly, they were forced (so unfortunately) to cut the parrot solo short.
To anyone who has seen that, I offer a more hypnotic and (in my humble opinion) better developed styling within the same vein:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=YiSFxDJQU48
With this one, you`ll find two problems:
Problem 1) The illiterate retard who posted it cannot properly spell "Trumpet", and
Problem 2) It does not begin at the beginning of the song. Apparently this listener`s knowledge of camera use or punctual footage planning is on par with his gnarly spelling abilities. When he cuts out of Kid Koala, it cuts immediately into some other DJ I`ve never heard of, as if it were some parent filming only their children in different parts of an elementary school talent show. Fucking Idiots. I`m going to jump to conclusions and assume this guy went to the wrong show, and that people exactly like him are the reason that Lil Wayne and Birdman went Platinum. Oh..never heard of that travesty? Check it out..the album`s called "Like Father like Son"..it`s a real...you know...piece of shit.
While I`m at it, I`ll also drop some more mad video knowledge on your asses.
Now, Liam, I know that you have more than likely seen and studied this video with a fervent passion, but to all those who wonder what I do with my time here in London:
Here you go.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=6JtfPJIpMP0
I live humbly only to serve those that can scratch like mad demons.
Honestly, the second I can afford it...I`m buying turntables and becoming king.
God Bless!
TbHiEzz
I do feel it`s important for the entirety of humanity to watch this video. Unfortunately, being radio friendly, they were forced (so unfortunately) to cut the parrot solo short.
To anyone who has seen that, I offer a more hypnotic and (in my humble opinion) better developed styling within the same vein:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=YiSFxDJQU48
With this one, you`ll find two problems:
Problem 1) The illiterate retard who posted it cannot properly spell "Trumpet", and
Problem 2) It does not begin at the beginning of the song. Apparently this listener`s knowledge of camera use or punctual footage planning is on par with his gnarly spelling abilities. When he cuts out of Kid Koala, it cuts immediately into some other DJ I`ve never heard of, as if it were some parent filming only their children in different parts of an elementary school talent show. Fucking Idiots. I`m going to jump to conclusions and assume this guy went to the wrong show, and that people exactly like him are the reason that Lil Wayne and Birdman went Platinum. Oh..never heard of that travesty? Check it out..the album`s called "Like Father like Son"..it`s a real...you know...piece of shit.
While I`m at it, I`ll also drop some more mad video knowledge on your asses.
Now, Liam, I know that you have more than likely seen and studied this video with a fervent passion, but to all those who wonder what I do with my time here in London:
Here you go.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=6JtfPJIpMP0
I live humbly only to serve those that can scratch like mad demons.
Honestly, the second I can afford it...I`m buying turntables and becoming king.
God Bless!
TbHiEzz
Friday, September 21, 2007
I GOT BLISTAS ON ME FINGAS.
My feet hurt a lot. I mean, it`s not a pain like the pain of industrial grease remover seeping into the million tiny cuts in the palm of your hand from butterflying chicken all day, but they`re sore.
You see, I`ve wandered into the ultra-strange, devious and rather deceptive world of door to door sales. The ad in the classifieds read "B.E.S.T. Job EVER!!! GREAT HOURS! UP TO 55 DOLLARS AN HOUR!!"
With Fanshawe College being just down the road, and doubtless some of it's English alumni employed there, I realize now why B.E.S.T. is not an acronym, but instead a punctuated statement of exuberant excitement. I called them on Tuesday, and by Wednesday I was in the field.
The company works on a strange payscale I know for a fact I`m not allowed to disclose, but we work for a charity which contracts companies like this one and pays them to do more efficient donor recruitment than a TV commercial. I don`t know how it's possible that they pay so well unless the children are worth mad P.R. but we get dollaz.
I met a young man, my supervisor in the field, who is so much like my old roommate that I actually laugh when he says "Jeezy"and images of him getting stoned past recollection and eating glass haunt the next few doors.
One thing that I have learned from 30 hours of this job though...people are assholes. I think you can only imagine how much funnier this blog is going to become once I start doing regular routes and going to other cities.
Some highlighted stories from the last two days:
-I walked up to his door, and an old man was sitting on his front porch. I asked him how he was doing and what I heard was "Dying." I thought this rather macabre response not good for a sale, so I asked him why he thought he was dying (I mean, really..how do you respond to an answer like that?..try putting a positive spin on impending death). Naturally, through his thick Italian accent, what I was actually hearing was "Dieting". As soon as this embarrassing mix-up was dealt with, I sat down and showed him pictures of some kids and asked if he wanted to sponsor. He replied with a long winded, unintelligible story about his grandson going off to fight terrorism and I think throughout all of it, I only understood the first and last phrases which were: "My grandson goes ova dere and fights da terrorista..mumbo jumbo, laughter..mumbo blah blah blah...you askin me to support dese ni****s?"
At this point, I`m instructed to just leave, it`s a no, it's at this point a waste of time, but I hate people like this, so naturally, I stick around for personal reasons, rebutting his absolutely racist and demeaning statements with arguments such as: "Sir, this child is eight, and he is from Tanzania, there is a civil war going on there right now, he WILL be sold into combat slavery unless people put him into this program, thats WHY I`m going around here today."
I won`t go into the details as to how this ended, but it ended with me walking off of his porch, him (I`m not lying) yelling at some ladies passing by in durqa to "go home" and "get jobs".
(Ah yes, yet another intelligent quip from this old cocksucker: "Why canta dey work dere? You planta da seeds, dey grow in da ground..they too lazy to work [here life story commences] lazy ni****s.)
FUCK I HATE OLD PEOPLE.
Basically, my new job can rule if I`m good at it, and if I`m really good, I`ll just go around london and kick some major sales ass.
So, I`m out,
Peace and Love,
The Bizz.
You see, I`ve wandered into the ultra-strange, devious and rather deceptive world of door to door sales. The ad in the classifieds read "B.E.S.T. Job EVER!!! GREAT HOURS! UP TO 55 DOLLARS AN HOUR!!"
With Fanshawe College being just down the road, and doubtless some of it's English alumni employed there, I realize now why B.E.S.T. is not an acronym, but instead a punctuated statement of exuberant excitement. I called them on Tuesday, and by Wednesday I was in the field.
The company works on a strange payscale I know for a fact I`m not allowed to disclose, but we work for a charity which contracts companies like this one and pays them to do more efficient donor recruitment than a TV commercial. I don`t know how it's possible that they pay so well unless the children are worth mad P.R. but we get dollaz.
I met a young man, my supervisor in the field, who is so much like my old roommate that I actually laugh when he says "Jeezy"and images of him getting stoned past recollection and eating glass haunt the next few doors.
One thing that I have learned from 30 hours of this job though...people are assholes. I think you can only imagine how much funnier this blog is going to become once I start doing regular routes and going to other cities.
Some highlighted stories from the last two days:
-I walked up to his door, and an old man was sitting on his front porch. I asked him how he was doing and what I heard was "Dying." I thought this rather macabre response not good for a sale, so I asked him why he thought he was dying (I mean, really..how do you respond to an answer like that?..try putting a positive spin on impending death). Naturally, through his thick Italian accent, what I was actually hearing was "Dieting". As soon as this embarrassing mix-up was dealt with, I sat down and showed him pictures of some kids and asked if he wanted to sponsor. He replied with a long winded, unintelligible story about his grandson going off to fight terrorism and I think throughout all of it, I only understood the first and last phrases which were: "My grandson goes ova dere and fights da terrorista..mumbo jumbo, laughter..mumbo blah blah blah...you askin me to support dese ni****s?"
At this point, I`m instructed to just leave, it`s a no, it's at this point a waste of time, but I hate people like this, so naturally, I stick around for personal reasons, rebutting his absolutely racist and demeaning statements with arguments such as: "Sir, this child is eight, and he is from Tanzania, there is a civil war going on there right now, he WILL be sold into combat slavery unless people put him into this program, thats WHY I`m going around here today."
I won`t go into the details as to how this ended, but it ended with me walking off of his porch, him (I`m not lying) yelling at some ladies passing by in durqa to "go home" and "get jobs".
(Ah yes, yet another intelligent quip from this old cocksucker: "Why canta dey work dere? You planta da seeds, dey grow in da ground..they too lazy to work [here life story commences] lazy ni****s.)
FUCK I HATE OLD PEOPLE.
Basically, my new job can rule if I`m good at it, and if I`m really good, I`ll just go around london and kick some major sales ass.
So, I`m out,
Peace and Love,
The Bizz.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Tales from the Punchbowl
So, I`m in London.
I began today at 8 in the morning and went out looking for a job. I`ve managed to find some good prospects at banks and financial institutions who will not be named.
I then meandered around the mall, got to a music store and played some guitars. The rest of my day has been spent either learning Primus songs or watching shit like this.
I would like very much to know what "Weasel Dust" is, and if it was inserted by the humble writers of Miami Vice to honor the many references to Weasels the man uses in his songs.
Also because of YouTube, I`ve managed to find and download the Alanis Morissette cover of My Humps, which you can just look up yourself. It`s pretty good. Although after the first 2 minutes, you realize why Rap videos are the comatose retards of the music video world.
I don`t know, I just thought I`d post to ensure all of you that I am not dead, and that the move went fine. Liam, drop me a line, you owe me a visit in a couple of weekends.
Carl, if you ever stop working and log on to see this, so do you.
Jordan. (Driving Wave). Econ Shiv
Love it, indulge in it.
Blake.
I began today at 8 in the morning and went out looking for a job. I`ve managed to find some good prospects at banks and financial institutions who will not be named.
I then meandered around the mall, got to a music store and played some guitars. The rest of my day has been spent either learning Primus songs or watching shit like this.
I would like very much to know what "Weasel Dust" is, and if it was inserted by the humble writers of Miami Vice to honor the many references to Weasels the man uses in his songs.
Also because of YouTube, I`ve managed to find and download the Alanis Morissette cover of My Humps, which you can just look up yourself. It`s pretty good. Although after the first 2 minutes, you realize why Rap videos are the comatose retards of the music video world.
I don`t know, I just thought I`d post to ensure all of you that I am not dead, and that the move went fine. Liam, drop me a line, you owe me a visit in a couple of weekends.
Carl, if you ever stop working and log on to see this, so do you.
Jordan. (Driving Wave). Econ Shiv
Love it, indulge in it.
Blake.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
We are human, after all.
Well, if it isn`t my old friend...the blog..
How are you...blog?
Still updated I see...
So how do I start this?
If you`ve read Liam`s post you know that my foot temperature disorder has landed me back into my parent`s house and hoping desperately that it will get better. Unfortunately, my family doctor (whom I met on Wednesday, and is a pretty cool guy) does not have a remedy aside from riding it out and mustering the nuts to go trodding off to parts unknown.
I am sorry to Liam and Carl, and what I hope they understand, as friends, is that this is the best thing for me right now. I can`t do much about that. Until I know how I want to spend my time and money I need to be caught in a safety net and frankly, the maw of a boar is not how I feel safe.
So anyways, I`m moving to London, where a million hot girls and a plethora of eager employers await my arrival.
Liam has gifted me with why Daft Punk isn`t that creative, and I suppose that is a decent sendoff to a man who screwed him over. I don`t like watching this video..it actually REALLY bothers me, and I hope and pray on my bedside before sleep that it's a hoax.
Unfortunately the facts are there, and if they hold up past the millions of astute (ha!) Youtube viewers...it can`t be false. Unlike those who have posted comments below the video, I cannot brush it off with a mere "daft punk rulz!" or "sht up u bitch, this video is bullshit. i love daft punk n ull never ruin them 4 me!"
I still love Daft Punk, but the notches are lowering...
Anyways, I wanted to just update here and apologise publicly to Liam and those whom I have decided to leave behind.
Please note however, that I have offered to anyone who so wishes, a place to crash when we go out to the amazing bars in London and get smashy smashy.
It`s not a bad life. I haven`t abandoned you completely.
I`m gonna head`r. Carl is jonesing for some Chess and who am I to deny that?
Love the one you`re with, unless she`s a fucking bitch,
Blake.
How are you...blog?
Still updated I see...
So how do I start this?
If you`ve read Liam`s post you know that my foot temperature disorder has landed me back into my parent`s house and hoping desperately that it will get better. Unfortunately, my family doctor (whom I met on Wednesday, and is a pretty cool guy) does not have a remedy aside from riding it out and mustering the nuts to go trodding off to parts unknown.
I am sorry to Liam and Carl, and what I hope they understand, as friends, is that this is the best thing for me right now. I can`t do much about that. Until I know how I want to spend my time and money I need to be caught in a safety net and frankly, the maw of a boar is not how I feel safe.
So anyways, I`m moving to London, where a million hot girls and a plethora of eager employers await my arrival.
Liam has gifted me with why Daft Punk isn`t that creative, and I suppose that is a decent sendoff to a man who screwed him over. I don`t like watching this video..it actually REALLY bothers me, and I hope and pray on my bedside before sleep that it's a hoax.
Unfortunately the facts are there, and if they hold up past the millions of astute (ha!) Youtube viewers...it can`t be false. Unlike those who have posted comments below the video, I cannot brush it off with a mere "daft punk rulz!" or "sht up u bitch, this video is bullshit. i love daft punk n ull never ruin them 4 me!"
I still love Daft Punk, but the notches are lowering...
Anyways, I wanted to just update here and apologise publicly to Liam and those whom I have decided to leave behind.
Please note however, that I have offered to anyone who so wishes, a place to crash when we go out to the amazing bars in London and get smashy smashy.
It`s not a bad life. I haven`t abandoned you completely.
I`m gonna head`r. Carl is jonesing for some Chess and who am I to deny that?
Love the one you`re with, unless she`s a fucking bitch,
Blake.
Monday, August 06, 2007
From the Editor`s Desk: I`m back and more in tune with my inability to cope.
Well, Here I am.
Ben, you`ve inspired me to at least delve into the pit of forgotten hope and prosperity that Lancier was and remember my password for this ol' blasted landscape.
Naturally, I have news.
For those of you caught unawares in the last 3 or so months, I`ve moved thrice, planned much, and prepared little. I`m moving out west, and Alberta looks promising.
Fort McMurray to be exact. With tensions building as to when jobs and travel arrangements will be specified, I naturally curl up into my ball of tensions and dive headlong into a precisely calculated ruse of good nature.
Things are as they should be. With my parents in London, I don`t talk to them often, but certainly when I can. Unfortunately, with things being how they are, and my hours being as good as they are (and I do consider a plethora of hours a good thing) I am unable to see them in the flesh less often than I am able to speak to them. The ratio is about 2:1 for talking.
I have attempted to research (through both the internet and first hand experience) what life will be like and how exactly I can manage to both fill my coffers and have a good time, and right now my promises vary with each session.
I`m scared kids. I don`t know what to do....yeah..piss on that. I`m not really scared at all. This hellhole of stratford provides so little for me now I`d rather be in Alaska than here. At least I`d be closer to Russia...things happen there.
I suppose this is the age old case of restlessness at home. Having no grounding here, I've been forced to move from friend to friend and impose, and I'm seeing nothing for it. That bothers me so much, I`m not sure what truly noble end this serves..perhaps none at all. The simple explanation would be simply to move home, go to school, get a job, life insurance and a decent automobile.
But is that the Blake we all know and love? Probably in about seven or eight years, yes. But not now!!
So, I rented a season of the Henry Rollins Show tonight and sat down for some good laughs and some provocative, politically biased discussion, sparing no veg-out expense. Chips, Pop and a small mound of pillows were also invitees.
Perhaps this little jeremiad has bored you, I expect no pity and take no prisoners. Given Henry Rollins' immense build and truculence, I fear for the use of my legs if I don`t get back to it.
I`ll talk atchall when that train comes in.
peace and love and shit,
Bizz.
Ben, you`ve inspired me to at least delve into the pit of forgotten hope and prosperity that Lancier was and remember my password for this ol' blasted landscape.
Naturally, I have news.
For those of you caught unawares in the last 3 or so months, I`ve moved thrice, planned much, and prepared little. I`m moving out west, and Alberta looks promising.
Fort McMurray to be exact. With tensions building as to when jobs and travel arrangements will be specified, I naturally curl up into my ball of tensions and dive headlong into a precisely calculated ruse of good nature.
Things are as they should be. With my parents in London, I don`t talk to them often, but certainly when I can. Unfortunately, with things being how they are, and my hours being as good as they are (and I do consider a plethora of hours a good thing) I am unable to see them in the flesh less often than I am able to speak to them. The ratio is about 2:1 for talking.
I have attempted to research (through both the internet and first hand experience) what life will be like and how exactly I can manage to both fill my coffers and have a good time, and right now my promises vary with each session.
I`m scared kids. I don`t know what to do....yeah..piss on that. I`m not really scared at all. This hellhole of stratford provides so little for me now I`d rather be in Alaska than here. At least I`d be closer to Russia...things happen there.
I suppose this is the age old case of restlessness at home. Having no grounding here, I've been forced to move from friend to friend and impose, and I'm seeing nothing for it. That bothers me so much, I`m not sure what truly noble end this serves..perhaps none at all. The simple explanation would be simply to move home, go to school, get a job, life insurance and a decent automobile.
But is that the Blake we all know and love? Probably in about seven or eight years, yes. But not now!!
So, I rented a season of the Henry Rollins Show tonight and sat down for some good laughs and some provocative, politically biased discussion, sparing no veg-out expense. Chips, Pop and a small mound of pillows were also invitees.
Perhaps this little jeremiad has bored you, I expect no pity and take no prisoners. Given Henry Rollins' immense build and truculence, I fear for the use of my legs if I don`t get back to it.
I`ll talk atchall when that train comes in.
peace and love and shit,
Bizz.
