The Birds Sure Know What Season It Is

Vanity of Vanities; All Is Vanity*

So I go to get my hair cut yesterday by our friend Krista, and I can see that the vees in my receding hairline have increased in depth since the last time I was in. We now have to resort to strategic, Bieberesque trickery to keep them from showing up as large holes of nakedness on an otherwise covered scalp. I asked Krista what we're going to do when they get too big to cover up, and she said, "Shave it off." She was being flippant, but very short hair is kind of the only way to pull off male pattern baldness.

It's not at that point yet, but the inevitability is freaking me out a little. I can't do really short hair. Have you seen my ears? No, it looks like a wig will be the only solution...

And by the way, I don't mind these symptoms of aging when they're gradual. Noticing that I have less hair than I did five years ago? No problem — it's to be expected. But less hair than I had last time I got a haircut is going too far. Come on!

*Yes, I realize that pride in one's appearance is not the meaning of "vanity" in this quote. The other meaning suits the post just as well, though, don't you think?

Haiku for You

This week has been incredibly busy, as well as an emotional roller coaster, which I don't even want to get into here. But so hence the blog break. I've been rereading some haiku by Issa as a way of trying to stay calm, and I thought I'd put some of my new favourites on here. These are from a different collection, translated by Robert Hass, from the Blyth translations I posted last year, so they have a slightly more modern flavour. I love the sweet, matter-of-fact way Issa has of expressing that the world is actually a pretty painful place.

Fleas in my hut,
it's my fault
you look so skinny.

Evening moon—
they visit the graves
and cool off.

What good luck!
Bitten by
this year's mosquitoes too.

Hey, sparrow!
out of the way,
Horse is coming.

Mother I never knew,
every time I see the ocean,
every time—

That last one puts a hand grenade in my mind and backs away slowly. Here's one I wrote on waking up to yet another grey and cold May morning:

Elm out the window
Going nowhere in the wind,
Its leaves little sails

More Brief Tunage

Here's another crack at a piano recording, this time with the microphone actually turned on. This little tune was driving me crazy until I tried putting it into a 5/8 time signature, which seemed to solve all the problems I was having with it.

And the Long & McQuade jingle contest site seems to be working now. They've changed the voting system from a 0-5-star rating to a thumbs-up-or-down mechanism, which makes me think previous votes probably don't count anymore. Here's the link to The Lodge's entry again, in case you didn't save it in your favourites. And also MacKenzie's classic rock entry, because how could you have heard that one enough times?

Happy Mother's Day

... from one stylish lad to his equally stylish mum. I hope you're having a really nice day, wherever you are over there across the pond, Mom. And I hope all the other moms I know are getting all the love, respect, and R&R they deserve today too. You ladies are keeping this species going, and we need you more than ever. Love and hugs to all of ya!

The Last Spoke

Today was a pretty nice day, so we went for a long bike ride on a trail that used to be a railway line. They've ripped up the tracks and put gravel down so people can walk, bike, and cross-country ski on it. It's paved in some parts too. Easy riding with very shallow ups and downs and lots of great views of lakes, industrial wasteland, and people's backyards full of junk.

Rumour has it you can take the thing all the way from west end Halifax down the south shore to Yarmouth! I know it also goes at least to Lawrencetown in the other direction, starting in Eastern Passage. We didn't get too far today, as it was our first real outing of the season. Just to Timberlea, where the path crosses the old #3 highway. But still, it was about a 25 km ride there and back (not including the first leg we did in the wrong direction along an actual working railway line, complete with a train full of bemused passengers). Our legs are kind of rubbery now, and our faces reddish from the sun. Fun times!

Show Poster

Here's the poster for the Lodge show next Saturday. Gonna be a good time. We're even planning on writing some lyrics for the newer songs. Tonight's the Gillian Austin show. Maybe we'll see you there.

Recommended Listening

My latest shipment of CDs arrived from Aquarius Records yesterday. Seems to be an especially good batch. That second one is True Widow's latest album. The full title is As High As The Highest Heavens And From The Center To The Circumference Of The Earth. It's super heavy, slow, and singable. Tape is another band I already knew about — really pretty and hypnotic ambient post-rock. Good for working to. Papercuts was a bit of a crapshoot, based on Aquarius' description of them as a cross between The Shins and Beach House. So far it's paying off.

But my hands-down favourite so far is The Oscillation. I'd never heard of these guys before, but man, is it ever up my alley. Some kind of space-rock/electronic hybrid that sounds like Vangelis one minute, German psychedelic rock the next, and some forgotten, dancy postpunk band the next. Wow. So good. Here's a sample.



Postscript to Monday's post: Lest The Lodge ever be accused of selling out on the grounds that writing commercial music for the sole purpose of acquiring product from the advertising client is antiartistic, gauche, and totally uncool, here are (one? two?) three(!) jingles for an insanely strong beer called Steel Reserve High Gravity Lager, penned and recorded by none other than The Ramones. They're pretty good, too. Of course, The Ramones broke up and started dying right after recording these, so maybe they're not the best pieces of evidence for my case...

Voting Day!

This is very important. I hope everyone will take the time to voice her opinion. How often do you get to be part of such a crucial decision? It only takes a few seconds, and every single vote is counted, so please do your duty as a Canadian radio listener and music lover by checking out The Lodge's entry in Long & McQuade's nationwide jingle contest.

I'm not saying you have to give it five stars or anything. Just rate it however you deem appropriate. I happen to think it's wildly catchy, myself, and wouldn't at all mind hearing it numerous times a day, even with obnoxious echoing voiceover, say over the tinny speakers embedded in the ceiling of a really soul-sucking office environment full of dirty beige cubicle dividers and fluorescent lighting, where having a coffee mug with your favourite sports team's logo on it counts as an act of self-expression and the only thing preventing you from stabbing your ballpoint pen with the name and address of one of the suppliers you sometimes have to talk to on the phone — either to order some mind-numbingly dull item like paperclips or toner or something more specialized that anyone outside of your industry wouldn't know or even have any reason to want to know what the heck it is, and if you're really honest with yourself those phone conversations are usually the high point in your day, because at least something happened, never mind how mundane, that you didn't already know was going to happen when you woke up that morning — printed on it into the neck of the coworker beside you who has been making a sniffling sound every 10 to 15 seconds for eight minutes now but who refuses to blow his nose even though he keeps a box of tissues within arm's reach on his desk and has immediately and without exception offered one to anyone who has ever sneezed in the office, ever (no matter how imperceptibly or how many cubicles away, so how could his sudden apparent ignorance of their existence be taken as anything but a cunning bit of passive aggression designed to make your day just a little bit more miserable than usual?) is one of the aforementioned beige dividers.

But maybe you feel otherwise. That's OK. There are different categories in the contest for different genres of music. Ours is in the "Modern Rock / Alternative" category, but maybe that's not exactly your cup of tea. If you're interested in hearing other entries, do yourself a favour and check out this sure winner from the "Classic Rock" section.

Upcoming Shows

I've got a bunch of shows to play this month. Had a practice for this one yesterday — playing bass in Gillian Austin's backup band, The Brambles. Then, the following Saturday is a Lodge show at the same venue. I'll have to whip together a poster for that one soon. And closer to the end of the month I'm going to do another short solo set, this time at the coffee shop around the corner from our house, Local Jo. That one will be a double bill of me and Matt Reid. Haven't decided what instrument to play yet. I was thinking electric piano, but then when I started trying to practise the sustain pedal broke, so maybe I should take that as a sign. Electric guitar? We'll see...

Heart Openers

We had a yoga class last night with our friend Angie in Fall River. She used to teach a regular class years ago, which was great, but now it's a rare occasion when you get to yogue it up under her tutelage. But this was a special benefit class for Japanese disaster relief.

There was some last minute debate on our part over whether we even actually still wanted to go, but because it was for charity and because it was a good excuse to get to see Angie (and her husband, Cliff), we bit the bullet. Good thing, too. I'd kind of forgotten just how enjoyable a yoga class can potentially be. I think I'd started thinking of it as just work that you have to do sometimes. But every moment of Angie's class was a pleasure, and we felt great afterward, like the world was a nicer, more friendly place. Plus, there was a whole feast of chili and salad and cookies after the class. Thanks, Angie, for such a nice time.

The Merkel Boner

There's a house on Merkel Street, not too far from here, that is one of the craziest mishmashes of architectural eras and styles I've ever seen. Alison and I used to walk past it on our way to yoga classes years ago, and it was so ugly and insane looking that we started referring to it as the "Merkel Boner," a reference to the infamous baseball play in 1908 by New York Giant, Fred Merkle. (Different spelling, I know, but too good a joke to pass up.) If you don't know the story, check out the video below — it's seriously one of the most interesting sports moments ever.



A couple of nights ago, we ran into our friend Benn at the grocery store, whom we hadn't seen in a long time. We asked him where he was living these days, and he said Merkel Street. So of course I immediately asked him if it was the "Merkel Boner." And then of course I had to explain my clever joke, and I guess I was kind of long-winded about it and said the word "boner" probably about fifty-three times. In my defense, it is a complicated story, about which Daniel Okrent says, in "Inning Two" of Ken Burns' Baseball (which I just now finished watching), "Trying to explain the Merkle Boner in twenty-five words or less is like trying to explain relativity to kindergartners." I really wish, by the way, that I had the Burns treatment of the story to show you here, because it's quite masterful and poignant and much better than the video above, which, however, will do.

Anyway, when I was finally finished, Benn just kind of said, "Welp, bye!" and scrammed out of the store with his groceries. I say he was hungry and looking forward to cooking the food he'd just bought, but Alison's convinced I came across as a complete lunatic and actually frightened him. I guess the two explanations aren't necessarily mutually exclusive...

Oh, and the answer was no — it's not his house. Too bad.

You Cannot Serve Both Fog and Money

Well, I bit the bullet and paid the government yesterday. My dad gave me some advice that managed to knock almost 500 bucks off what I owed, so thanks for that, Dad! He thought it was pretty ironic that I was trying to pay as little in taxes as possible while voting for the NDP, but I don't think it's so surprising that I wouldn't want to give my money to the government when I don't like what they're doing with it. Plus, 27.7% — come on! I mean, we're not exactly high on the proverbial hog over here.

Today is quite foggy and dreary, but in a spooky, quiet way that's not completely unpleasant. There was a blue jay sitting in the tree outside my office window when I sat down to start working, and the whole scene made me think of this song. Possibly my favourite George Harrison number. I always wonder whether he intended the neat counterculture pun, "Don't belong."

Gloomy Tuesday

Did anyone else feel incredibly bummed out today? I guess saying goodbye to two thousand bucks probably had something to do with it. But also, Tuesdays in general I always find to be downers. Way worse than Mondays. Monday at least is a change from the weekend. But Tuesday just feels like you've still got the whole week ahead of you, except you've had a day already to get stuff done so you'd really better get on things, and what exactly is the point, anyway? Plus it was rainy and cold. I dunno, man... Something I really don't like about Tuesdays.

We went to see Jane Eyre as it was cheap night at the movies. It looked really beautiful and the acting was fine and everything. I guess I just didn't realize what a straight-up romance the story was, having never read it. Kind of boring. That'll teach me to make assumptions about the classics.

Eurrrrrggghhhh!

I just finally did my income tax return today and I owe like 2,000 dollars more than I'd planned for. Wah! I've been putting aside 30 percent of everything I take in all year (including 15% HST), to cover my HST remittance (=10%) and income tax. I.e. 23 percent of my gross income set aside for federal and provincial income tax and CPP contributions. Should be enough, you'd think, right? But no, they want over 27%! What the hell, man? That's a lot. And I had actually been looking forward to seeing how much I'd get BACK. Oh well, easy go, easy go, I guess. Rats!

Happy Eostre!

Hope everyone's annual rebirth is constructive and not too painful. Spring cleaning is healthy, but throwing everything away can be disorienting and scary. Sunshine and chocolate are good remedies for the discomfort of reentry. We've been lucky enough to have some of each today.

Thinking? Um... therefore?

The Richard Rorty book, by the way, is so far just fascinating. I won't know till I've finished it whether I completely agree with everything he has to say, but it sure is making me think, and I find myself really enjoying it. He's quite radical in his rejection of both objective reality and the self as the ultimate location of truth. Check this out, e.g.:

"As long as we think that there is some relation called 'fitting the world' or 'expressing the real nature of the self' which can be possessed or lacked by vocabularies-as-wholes we shall continue the traditional philosophical search for a criterion to tell us which vocabularies have this desirable feature. But if we could ever become reconciled to the idea that most of reality is indifferent to our descriptions of it, and that the human self is created by the use of a vocabulary rather than being adequately or inadequately expressed in a vocabulary, then we should at last have assimilated what was true in the Romantic idea that truth is made rather than found. What is true about this claim is just that languages are made rather than found, and that truth is a property of linguistic entities, of sentences."

I know, right? Maybe it's because I went to sleep reading such heady, abstract stuff right after my last blog post that when I woke up I knew all at once, as deeply as you can possibly know something, the ultimate refutation of Descartes's Cogito ergo sum.

Here's what happened. I was lying on the couch, having unintentionally fallen asleep and therefore completely unconscious in that dead-to-the-world way that only happens when sleep grabs you by force. I don't really know how long I'd been like that, but the phone rang and woke me up. Except that even though I was awake, I found that I had no idea not only where or who I was, but even whether I was. Sometimes you wake up to a phone ringing and at first think, "What is that noise?" or "What am I supposed to do now?" or something vaguely panicked along those lines. This went way beyond that. Even the questions "Am I conscious? Does the world exist? Do I even exist?" don't adequately describe the state, because those questions would immediately be countered by the Cartesian-smart-alecky "Who wants to know?" No, the only way I can express the ultimate doubt I experienced in that moment, which included my own very being in its scope, is as a profound and unanswerable "Huh?" I find myself sort of wondering now whether maybe I actually didn't exist for a brief period of time...

It was Jeff on the phone. He was calling to say he'd be meeting up with us later. Sorry, Jeff, that I didn't answer, but thanks for the very interesting and mind-expanding experience.

Easter Weekend — Oh Yeah

So far it's been as relaxing and pleasant as can be. Just got back in from a bike ride around the town with Alison. We went for brunch and then did a bunch of errands. It was a nice, sunny spring day, a little on the chilly side but not too bad, and we ran into lots of folks we know and like. Now it's colder and overcast.

Tonight we'll go to see the always astounding Bad Vibrations do their terse psychedelic punk rock thing at the always sketchy Gus' Pub. The Robins, Mark Gaudet's Moncton old-school hardcore band, are headlining. Mark was/is the drummer behind Eric's Trip, but he plays guitar in this band. Here's an interesting and funny video featuring both Bad Vibrations and Mark Gaudet. Plus some very informative stuff about Bigfoot.



Our friend Jeff is in town from Toronto for Easter, so he'll be attending the show with us. We got to hang out some with him and the BV gang last night over Chinese food. There was a very drunk guy yelling on the other side of the restaurant, and the waitress gave us meat spring rolls by accident, but it was still a fun time.

The night before that I attended the art college's annual Wearable Art Show. It was quite a well-run gala event, aside from the fact that you couldn't hear anything anyone said into the microphone. A reliable source told me the sound tech didn't know what a D.I. was when it was suggested he should use one. Nerdy techie gossip, but pretty funny and unbelievable if you know anything about sound production.

But anyways, there were lots of people there, and they were all dressed up and having a great time. The runway ran very smoothly and the modeling was impressive. Some of the "art" leaned a little too far into the wearable end, I thought, but some was kooky and interesting. Highlight of the evening was the "collection" that consisted entirely of giant body-painted logos. As in, no clothes. As in, eight models of both genders walked down the runway completely naked. Shocking and hilarious. The logos looked really great, too.

God's Cronies

Here's a little tune for you. Enjoy!

New Morning Sounds

Before you thought of Spring
Except as a Surmise
You see—God bless his suddenness—
A Fellow in the Skies
Of independent Hues
A little weather worn
Inspiriting habiliments
Of Indigo and Brown—
With specimens of Song
As if for you to choose—
Discretion in the interval
With gay delays he goes
To some superior Tree
Without a single Leaf
And shouts for joy to Nobody
But his seraphic self—

- Emily Dickinson

(There's also a dog and a hobo in there.)

Postscript: Oh, man, I just realized Garageband has been using my computer's built-in microphone as the input for everything I record, even when I have a good microphone running into it through a decent preamp. What a ding dong! No wonder that piano sounded so terrible...