even an end has a start

to be listened to as my plane takes off tonight:

itunes playlist "leavetakings - 06/10/07"
1. interpol - untitled
2. joy division - transmission
3. placebo - running up that hill
4. depeche mode - never let me down again
5. echo & the bunnymen - the killing moon
6. modern english - i melt with you
7. moist - leave it alone
8. the cult - she sells sanctuary
9. the killers - when you were young
10. catherine wheel - black metallic
11. matthew good band - strange days
12. the cure - plainsong
13. new order - bizarre love triangle
14. placebo - special needs
15. editors - an end has a start
16. division day - enjoy the silence
17. social distortion - reach for the sky
18. jesse malin - broken radio
19. radiohead - there there
20. sisters of mercy - lucretia my reflection
21. kill hannah - hummingbirds the size of bullets
22. placebo - this picture
23. matthew good - avalanche
24. shiny toy guns - we are pilots
25. david usher - devil by my side
26. joy division - atmosphere
27. interpol - heinrich maneuver

that is probably the most depressing playlist i've ever created. but, hey, it works -- it's also the most hopeful, after all.

so here we are, my last day as a denizen of my birth province. i'm almost positive i'll be back eventually -- just as i could never make the switch from canadian to american citizenship, i'll forever be an ontarian. and as i said to my uncle in montreal yesterday (which, by the way, was a fucking awesome trip, not to mention i made new friends out of the awesome band bionic -- nothing like copious amounts of il/legal vices and partying until 6 a.m. to create a solid bond), i'm fortunate enough that i've got an ideal situation here: i'm coming home at christmas, so i could feasibly live for free on my friend's couch until then, thus absolving me of having to lock myself into a one-year lease somewhere. i'm pretty sure that by december, i'll know whether or not vancouver's right for me; if i'm in love with the place, i'll come back after christmas, get my own apartment and settle in. if i hate it there, then i take my escape hatch at christmas and return home to gather my bearings and figure out what's next. (though i'm almost certain now that what's next is montreal -- if not soon, then definitely someday. the test for vancouver is now to see whether i'll love it more than i love montreal)

it's sad, yeah, and i'm going to miss it, but at the same time, i think i'm ready to let go and move on to new territory. i have to be ready. because my intuition's telling me, as it has a couple times before (and it wasn't wrong those times), that this move is going to mark the beginning of a new phase in my life that will define a lot of things. this is definitely what i need to do right now, no matter how long or short my tenure in vancouver is. one of the biggest things i've learned in the last five years is that even the littlest things in the present day can have a big impact on the future. and, more often than not, i'm always excited to see how those things turn out.

so, since i'm heading back to toronto for one final time in a few hours - granted, it's not toronto so much as it is pearson airport (and pearson airport for a long five-hour wait no less), but that kind of counts - i guess now would be a good time for a eulogy for all my memories of the last five years spent in my adopted hometown...

the places and events: walking along the danforth any time of glorious sunny day. trips to chinatown and strolls through little india. jogging along the boardwalk by the beach, or just pacing the boardwalk at sunset along with all the swimsuit-clad crowds of families. walking to and from downtown on queen street, or dundas street, or bloor street, heading east to west and back again. the downtown toronto bus terminal, many times my second home as i prepared to make my escape into the wide world (usually in excited pursuit of a band). the two glorious markets, kensington and st. lawrence. toronto island and running amok through centreville park with mary during 2006's virgin festival. early-morning and late-night cardio sessions at u of t's fort jock, and later system fitness. every time i came back into the city by bus at night, looping around downtown toronto, watching the lights of the city rise up around me. queen & bathurst on saturday night. pretending to be a celebrity in yorkville during the film festival. the path i walked to work when i lived in the annex -- east on bloor, south on bay or yonge, all the way down to catch the queen streetcar that would take me to my east side supermarket, five times a week. heading back from the fedex office on the waterfront that dusky night in october 2004 when interpol changed everything for me. hitting the streets with souvlaki in hand during taste of the danforth 2006 with amanda. living in the hotel during my first year and watching the snow fall over toronto from an eleventh-floor window. the butler brother parties, forever memorable. yonge street tattoos, where i had all my toronto body mods done (save for my labret piercing, done at passages on church street with rhea jokingly offering to hold my hand). the weekend my mom spent with me in toronto at the end of summer 2005, right before everything changed. coming back from exhibition place at night, looking out over the downtown city and the stars. every single time i returned to toronto after traipsing across the country on a typical band-following mission, thinking about how fucking lucky i was to be living this manic tv-movie life that i'd only ever been able to dream about as a teenager in kingston. thinking about how lucky i was that living in toronto was affording me those opportunities.

the shopping: borderline. hell's belles. sheree's and its overly-friendly owner, the infamous uncle max. sonic boom for both supplying and purchasing my music collection. the 12" vinyl heaven of rotate this. super sellers on yonge street and precious creations in chinatown for all the best and cheapest fishnet stockings. playdead. repeatedly getting lost in the eaton centre my first year here.

the eats and drinks: urban herbivore. shanghai cowgirl. sushi on bloor. fresh. sushi marche. red rocket coffee. dark horse espresso bar. bull dog coffee. amato's on queen west (r.i.p.) because there was nothing better than their pollo basilico pizza while drunk after last call. sanko. spring rolls, go, and east!. future bakery's brownie cheesecake at 2 a.m. and its great coffee en route to work every afternoon back when i still lived in the annex. diabolos cafe and its great coffee every morning before class in my third and fourth years of university. mystic muffin falafel. walnut cakes bought in little korea on the west end. pulp kitchen smoothies. the big carrot and natural organics for fuelling my interest in homeopathy and organic foods. st. john's bakery and its benevolent delivery man.

the bars and clubs: martini wednesdays at labyrinth lounge, where i had my 19th and 20th birthday parties. saturday dj nights at cobalt (r.i.p.). the vatikan. the queenshead. drinking at the boozecan, crashing on its crackden-like couches at 4 a.m. loud, blurry nights at the horseshoe. the edge 102.1 saturday nights at the phoenix, every week when i was in my second year. murphy's law. glamming it up for robin black shows at lee's palace. the bovine sex club, for absolutely every fucking memory made (or forgotten) there, and for being both refuge and sanctuary to this chain-smoking rock chick with a heavy metal heart.

the longest-standing workplaces: the chart staff, for giving me a chance and so many following opportunities, and continuing to feed my ambition for the last four years (and hopefully many years to come). my first starbucks and my old family there, the personal angst and drama of late 2006 notwithstanding. my loblaws and my close family of coworkers for the last four years, who turned a shitty part-time job into one of my favourite places to work (sometimes) with some of my favourite people in the world (always). it may sound weird, but i will miss my coworker crew more than i can even contemplate right now. they really were my family here.

the many different affairs with the many beautiful, terrible musicians in my life: the awkward words and brief smiles. the cab rides through the night, bright lights streaking by. watching you disappear into the dark, going home to your real girlfriend as the tears ran down my face. us lying in my bed naked, holding hands, listening to the cure and singing along together. laughing over stupid inside jokes over brunch. sneaking out of the hotels - the delta chelsea, the metropolitan - first thing in the morning, doing the groupie walk of shame in torn fishnets and heels with bedhead hair and smeared makeup. that time we nearly had sex in the back of the bovine. whispered promises that we thought nobody else could hear. lies and falsehoods and my hope through it all. shopping for groceries together after midnight, you making me dinner as we listened to the cds i'd brought over. wading through knee-deep snow and cold, us being mutually cynical bastards about the typical toronto winter weather. you breathing that you loved me and me telling you to shut up. phone conversations that lasted until 5 a.m., even though i had to be up for class at 8. staring out the window at lettieri after you left, tears streaming behind my sunglasses, knowing that you didn't understand. sitting on the picnic table in the backyard, smoking and waiting and watching through the haze. willing my cell phone to chime, informing me of another of your constant text messages. that night in november when i skipped out on class early to go see you, passing time before leaving by sitting under the night sky on campus, listening to the chime of the cathedral bells over hart house and smiling. every time my heart raced whenever you appeared online. sitting on that rooftop, throwing stones, surrounded by the fog at 5 a.m., knowing that it was over. triumph. heartbreak. the scars on my back. revenge. understanding. contentment with myself, and you, and us, and the fact that there was an "us", no matter how brief it always seemed to be for me, with you, with all of you.

my toronto rockstar boys, forever and for everything.

and you, of course.

...........

i'll talk to you all again from my new home on the west coast, and also what will be my new home on the web:

http://roaminginthenight.blogspot.com/

xox c.h.

and now there is this distance
december 2004 - october 2007
you came on your own, that's how you'll leave
with hope in your hands and air to breathe

[ music editors, "an end has a start" ]

just like heaven

at the risk of going all chuck klosterman on you guys (though i'd give my left tit to have even a fraction of his writing prowess), i've come to the conclusion that i go through affairs and relationships with music like i would with boyfriends.

i'm willing to bet that's not a weird concept to most of you. (how many of us can admit to agreeing with the phrase "music is my boyfriend/girlfriend"? come on now) in fact, since a good majority of my readership are music fans - and i'm glad it worked out that way, because you are my people - i bet a lot of you could relate. seriously, they're analogous to me -- my attractions to various bands and music run exactly parallel to the way i fall for guys. same process and same feeling of lust and infatuation, though at least the music doesn't break my heart (not intentionally, anyway -- for all intents and purposes, let's leave the sporadic case of me actually having a relationship with a guy in the band itself out of this)

for me, my love for bands and their music runs something like this:

attraction: this is when i hear maybe one or two songs by a certain band and i initially dig it, but don't give it enough interest to seriously start seeking out other stuff by the band. this is equal to when i spot a guy on the street with a cool hairstyle or nice eyes, give him a quick smile and a once-over before moving on. makes for a nice distraction, and if i (or the dude) end up lucking out, then we might run into each other later on and get a chance to know each other better. with the music, i might hear that single i liked on the radio a few weeks later, and maybe decide to give another couple songs a try. it's all very up in the air in this stage: could this new band become a beloved favourite? could this new boy become a dating possibility? the suspense is killing me, i'm telling you.
current example: probably blaqk audio. amanda loves them and gave them her full recommendation, and i'm enough of a techno-kid to enjoy the couple songs i've heard so far, but...unless i gain enough motivation to grab the whole album, this one might pass me by. maybe i don't know what i'm missing, but eh.

infatuations: also known as the lust or the crush, this is the phase i have the most fun with, both with music and with boys. this is the completely silly, exciting, all-consuming crush that even i can admit is impossibly ridiculous, but that doesn't stop the trip from being a fucking blast. usually, when it comes to guys, this is a crush that either unrequited or has no chance in hell of ever working out; when it comes to music, this is a band that's usually cheesy and terrible but completely lovable for those exact reasons. just as i'm an emotional masochist who regularly falls (and falls hard) for the wrong guys, i revel in loving critically hated bands. however, i am also a fickle girl; these bands will slowly fall out of my favour or else become replaced by a new obsession. same with the boys -- once i've got a new, different one to distract me, it's out with the old, and them's the breaks.
current example: the sisters of mercy. i think there needs to be a serious fucking intervention happening sometime soon because this is getting just sickening. (though i'm willing to bet it'll all be over in two to three months -- that's how it usually goes with me)

the on-and-off affair: this is a bit of a weird one, and one i can't say i have a whole lot of real relationship experience with. but when it comes to the music, there's been more than a few cases: this is the band whose music i'll overdose on, then ease off on for a while, then jump right back into it, then walk away for a bit, then start the whole obsession anew. maybe a new album will cause a reignited interest, or maybe i'll see them play a live show and remember why i loved their music at one point, or maybe i'll hear an older song i hadn't heard before and fall in love all over again. it's on and off, up and down, very love-hate with much of the material, but their music is a constant presence in my life regardless. and most of the time, it's something that grows to become a part of me that i can't do without.
current example: depeche mode. although this is a lingering affair - it's been going on at varying levels of magnitude for just over a year now - i can admit that i haven't heard all of their albums, nor do i like maybe a full half of their stuff. but that half i do like comprises of a vast majority of my most-listened-to songs on itunes. so, it's a toss-up, and it definitely does come in waves depending on my mood. (right now, though, i'm in a full-fucking-on depeche mood. how could i not be, after that interview on monday? i just finished the first of two articles and i'm still dying over here. by the way, this video is fucking rad fantastic)

true love: once again, not exactly something i can say i've experienced in a relationship (i take the l-word very seriously), though it's not a level i reach with many bands either. to this day, i think i can name my most-beloved bands - the ones i can't live without - on one hand. they're the ones whose music soundtracks my life, whose melodies i can lose myself in, the ones who usually get some sort of reference to their music tattooed on my body forever. (well, there might be one possible example coming up soon...but more on that later) most often, these are bands that start out as on-and-off affairs, then make a quick ascension to the top of the heap because i'll realize i love everything they've put out -- and from then on, there's no going back. these are the bands that remind me why i'll never love anything like i love music, and that's why i'm glad they're few and far between -- it becomes more special and precious that way.
current example: kill hannah. i get this band so hardcore, it's awesome and terrifying, just like any deep love. i can even identify with the legions of their underage shrieking teenybopper fans -- i know exactly how they feel, even if for me, it's how the music makes me feel. i still get chills when i listen to "hummingbirds the size of bullets" late at night.

the soulmate: the rarest of the rare, the band whose music i feel speaks to me and for me no matter what i'm going through. and just like any real concept of a "soulmate," it's a lucky person who actually manages to find one in their lifetime: the one band whose music changes their life.
current example: there is only one of these for me, and i shouldn't have to name it.

so, eventually, i drew two main conclusions:

1. as mentioned in my last entry, if we look at my beloved rock gods as example, then i dig cheesy fortysomething ex-junkie goths with new-romantic leanings and weird psychological problems. i can dig it.

2. i don't know if it sounds lame to say that i don't need a boyfriend so long as i have music to be in love with, but, there you have it.

3. i have really, really weird tastes in men.

man, i need to get some sleep. feel free to post reactions and commentary in the appropriate box, thx.

p.s. weird but true observation: i'm starting to get more and more music press releases through my mylovesubliminal gmail box. this wouldn't be out of the ordinary if they were going to the separate address i use for my music journalism-related endeavours (i even get full advance albums e-mailed there sometimes, without having to ask!); but instead, they're going to the mailbox that's linked from this blog. in other words, publicists and record companies have got their eye on me. ooooh.

p.p.s. i'm getting my fifth tattoo next week. it's going to be the words never let me down again inked on my inner left forearm. you know, as a reminder. (that, and i kind of decided on it after walking around kingston during a storm today listening to that song on a repeated loop)

[ music | echo & the bunnymen, "the cutter" ]

in utero

by the way, for those keeping score at home, the new best ever is this video for "this corrosion" by the sisters of mercy. i ended up watching it half a dozen times the other night, if only because i started watching depeche mode videos and decided that 1987 andrew eldritch is entirely more bangable than 1987 dave gahan. sorry, is true. (i'm a bit ashamed to admit that i kept pausing that sisters vid at the brief couple seconds where eldritch's omnipresent aviators slipped down and you could actually see his eyes. that video gets hilariously bad at parts and makes so little sense but omfgggg)

though i actually did purchase a slight case of overbombing: greatest hits vol. 1 on itunes the other night (and i'm eyeing floodland right now) because 1. there's no chance i'll find it here in kingston, and when i need an album i need it now (plus $10 for ten tracks that mostly clock over five minutes seems like a good deal to me), and 2. the album-only version of "this corrosion" was marked at 10:55, and how could i miss out on a version of that song that's eleven minutes long?? the answer: i could not.

oh yeah, and back on the topic of depeche mode -- i talked to mr. gahan on the phone yesterday. it kind of made me die a little inside.

i mean, seriously, i don't know how long it's been since i've done a phoner where i've had to muffle my shrieks of giddy fangirl delight. it was a great interview. dave was all jovial and sweet and didn't mind at all when i replied to his "how are you doing?" with "um, i'm, uh, really really nervous about doing this interview." (his response: "oh, likewise. it never gets easier for me either, you know!" -- at this point i nearly had a fucking heart attack) fortunately i managed to keep my gushings short at the end, simply telling him that it was "a real honour" to get to talk to him, and he sounded flattered as he thanked me for my support. really, to me, dave gahan is up there with the cure's robert smith for being not only one of my favourite vocalists ever, ever, but also hugely influential and a phenomenal example of an artist with longevity -- a total rock god, if you will. (i don't really know what it says about me that all my rock gods are goth-leaning fortysomethings who had their biggest heydays in the 80's.)

i mean, come on, people. this guy is the voice of motherfucking depeche mode. he sings my third favourite song of all time (that would be "never let me down again", ranking only just behind interpol's "pda" at second and, of course, moist's "believe me" in the top spot), which i love so much i'm considering getting either the title itself or the closing lyrics ("see the stars / they're shining bright / everything's alright tonight" -- it actually sounds a lot more haunting than it looks on paper, really, and that's all the doing of gahan's vocals) as my next tattoo.

so in sum total, that phoner yesterday reminded how much i love the high of conducting a really solid interview with a musician you love and respect, followed by the absolute rush that comes when you turn off the tape recorder and realize that a really fucking great interview just occurred. it's when that connection is made that i feel closer to the music - and the geniuses behind it - than i ever do through sleeping with rock stars. (after all, i have always stubbornly claimed that i could never be the common starfucking band groupie -- i care too much about them and their music rather than the fame and casual sex)

anyway, all the articles pertaining to both interviews will likely be up on chartattack in the next couple weeks (in the meantime, go take a look at a pretty old interview i did with the horrors) okay, now let's get away from my sordid past present and do some newslink distractions:

pitchfork loses its shit over the sudden new radiohead album. i still hold that i'm probably one of the last music critics on the planet to get into radiohead - my enjoyment of them extends as far as their common singles - but you have to admit that what they're doing with in rainbows is beyond fucking clever. i applaud heartily. (meanwhile, stereogum answers the question "What other record-release-model rules can Radiohead fuck with?" and nme finds out what people are choosing to pay for the album)

the star recaps the latest britney debacle -- which is, of course, her losing custody of her kids and seemingly not giving a damn about it. you know, i have a severe dislike of children in all forms, and i think i'm far too selfish a being to ever have spawn of my own, but there's something really, really wrong there.

congrats to bif naked for a happy marriage! even if my dad grumbled about the extensive amount of coverage her wedding got on etalk the other night.

more morrissey coming, just as he begins his 10-day hollywood residency. wish i could be there :( i wanna see some shirtless moz.

i'm turning twenty-four in one week and i've hardly even thought about it.

[ music | the clash, "janie jones" ]

back out of the system

my apologies to those regular readers who (gasp, shock) read this blog for the newslinks, because it's life recap time (also, my apologies for any more rambling incoherence than usual -- i'm stupidly hungover for the second morning in a row, and it's taken me three cups of coffee to feel even remotely human right now):

- last day at work. this was ridiculous and awesome -- seven years of working for that company, four years at that store alone, and i was finally getting out (gleefully informing pretty much every customer and coworker along the way). and last thursday was a departure on good terms, so not only did i get a nice letter of reference, but i also received a lovely goodbye card and a very large bottle of white merlot decorated with ring pops and pixi stix. although it was disappointing for all my coworkers who wanted to see me snap and tell off a customer or two (even my boss was telling me to start drinking -- "because i can't fire you!"), the wildest thing i did was use the motorized wheelchairs to race ryan to bakery department and back. all in all, a decent final work shift, although i saw many of my coworkers again the following night when we all convened to get hammered at a bar near my apartment. photos forthcoming, although i'm sure some of my friends will protest.

however, i received a certain phone call during this work shift, which led to friday's awesome madness:

- interviewing nikki sixx. yes, it finally happened, and in person no less. his publicist rang me up and asked if i was able to come into the bovine on friday afternoon to talk to nikki while he was in town for a book signing. of course i nearly fell over myself (although i was worried it'd mess with my dinner plans at kubo radio with allegra later that afternoon, but all turned out for the best, complete with wicked vegan madras curry) and went down to speak with nikki sixx.

when i got there, it was funny taking a look at all the other press journalists lining up for their interview slots - seemingly a parade of older, nebbish music-critic nerds with receding hairlines - and having it be no small wonder when a member of his publicity team looked me once over (taking in my outfit of kill hannah hoodie, spiked collar, knee-high combat boots and maroon plaid kilt, all chipped black nail polish and smeared eyeliner under a pageboy cap) before commenting, "you must be a rock chick." yeah, and the sky is also blue.

but, the interview was lovely. fantastic. couldn't take my eyes off the man, not just because he's the foxiest almost-50-year-old i've ever seen, but because he was just so damn engaging. talked plenty and gave lots of quality sound bytes, but never in the way that felt like he was phoning in the interview in any way. he was really into the questions and answers. and even if he actually wasn't, then i still bought it completely and made no effort to hide the adoring stars in my gaze. nikki's always been my favourite member of motley crue, after all, and i can't even count the number of times i've read the dirt. amazing.

however, i received a certain phone call during the hideously slow streetcar ride to the bovine, which is leading to tomorrow's awesome madness: i'm doing a phone interview with dave gahan, frontman of my beloved depeche mode. let the head-exploding commence.

- last day in toronto. despite waking up far too early in a hungover stupor from the previous night (as mentioned, my coworkers and i all went out for many pints, cigarettes and curry fries late friday night, in order to see me off properly), it was a long, reflective morning before my father came by to pick up his youngest daughter and any shit she had left. thankfully, we managed to fit my three bags, tupperware bin and his early birthday gift of a potted orchid into his car; not so thankfully, we ended up having to turn around at ajax and go back because i'd left my leather coat hanging behind my apartment's door. yeah, a not so pleasant ride, there.

but! i eventually made it out (stopping in belleville on the way home to visit my grandmother, and get a rather large shock when she bestowed upon me a cheque for a significant amount of money), and now i'm in kingston for the better part of the week, reflecting on the fact that life seems to have worked out the way it was supposed to: i'm homeless, unemployed, and back living at home with my parents.

- c'mon at ace's top card. holy fuck, this was wicked -- c'mon and likeminded noiseniks bionic playing a sketchy bar in my hometown? most excellent. i'd already volunteered my merch-girl services to c'mon, and though i initially wasn't expecting a hell of a lot - the top card is a reputed dump - there was actually a large crowd, a rad friend's-basement vibe to the place, a lot of cocktails downed (even if the bar didn't even have tonic or soda, and i think katie drank the last available dregs of jack daniels), and plenty of merch sold. man, i didn't know my hometown could be that much fun. it was like a little bit of toronto right here in kingston. (i even got another gig lined up: i'm selling merch for bionic at their pop montreal show on thursday night)

...which brings us to now: me sitting cross-legged in the den in my pajamas, hair a mess that robert smith would be proud of, the remnants of last night's dark makeup smeared under my eyes, and trying desperately to wake up (the band might be calling at some point this morning to go get breakfast downtown). so, in sum total, i may be home in kingston, but the next few days - filled with interview transcription and prepping, article writing, running all over town doing errands, going back and forth and back and forth again between parents' houses, and eventually doing a load of fucking laundry somewhere in there - aren't going to be anything resembling relaxing. i'll write again when i've got a spare moment to breathe while prepping for the big move -- now in less than a week. wow.

[ music | whatever's on the discovery channel in the den right now ]

always and forever

still spending too much of my time giggling over the sisters of mercy's website; still thinking eldritch's bitter cynicisms make him look even hotter. seriously, to me, 90% of rock stars are hot simply by default; if the rock star is witty, sarcastic, and a very intelligent writer, i am fucking gone. there's a good reason kevin young was my first favourite musician, after all. (if you've ever read even one of the infamous old moist newsletters, you'd know)

via blogto (because sooner or later, somebody at contact music is going to notice): congrats on your polaris prize win, patrick wilson! oh....wait.

lollapalooza 2008 is a go from august 1-3. unless i'm incredibly rich or have fled vancouver by then, i somehow doubt i'll be in attendance, but there you go. (regardless, i'm trying my damndest to fly down to chicago pre-christmas this year, because i want to see both brother adam and kill hannah's new heart for christmas 5)

nme reports on the new york premiere of control. i'm thinking that if jenna and i don't find a way to make an american day trip to see this, i'll probably just catch a showing when i'm down in los angeles in mid-october. then again, if i go see it while in l.a., there's a very good chance i will be on drugs, but eh.

phil spector case ends in mistrial. would a well-placed "yawwwwwn" here be considered crass?

and is it just me, or does this headline sound like something from a william gibson novel? welcome to the future, indeed.

by the way, speaking of the future, mine's coming fast -- my apartment is now completely emptied of my belongings (save for two stuffed duffel bags, a massive backpack, my laptop and its accessories scattered across the living room table, and a tupperware bin of sentimentals), the walls are blank and white, i went for one last salad at lettuce on bloor yesterday, and i've got my final work shift from 1-9:30 today. boss said something about "a big party" but maybe they're just celebrating the fact that they're getting rid of the black sheep of the front end. ;P

also, i assume this will be the last time i blog from toronto; my phone line's getting cut overnight on friday, so it seems likely i'll wake up sans internet saturday morning. doesn't matter much, since my father's coming to pick me up at 11 a.m. and there is the chance i may or may not be unconscious until then (or possibly up until then), so i doubt there'll be a lot of time to spare anyway. once i return from my hometown (note to barb: call me at mom's house sunday or monday): lots n' lots of photos from the past week, with likely added nostalgia and tears about all i left behind.

ciao, torontonia.

[ music | the sisters of mercy, "this corrosion" ]

true faith

heard the new dave gahan solo single "kingdom" the other day; was hooked from the first few seconds. i can always count on that man - or, you know, depeche mode in general - to satiate my cravings for wicked dark new-wave rock.

speaking of dark new-wave rock, my recent spate of the sisters of mercy music in combination with the fact that they have the wittiest band website ever is totally making me want to bear andrew eldritch's children. (although it's almost 100% guaranteed he would despise me on the spot, simply on the basis that i am his mortal enemy -- a music journalist) their music is like heavy metal: not meant at all to be funny, but it totally is. i've joked with jenna about starting up an awesomely terrible sisters cover band on the west coast, and recently i've begun to think that isn't a totally bad idea. (if eldritch wouldn't already hate me for the music-journalist thing...)

the truth behind mastodon's brent hinds' injury at the mtv vmas! that almost sounds like a better fight than tommy lee vs. kid rock. though seriously, who fucks with anybody from system of a down? dude must have had a lot to drink.

i sort of hope i run into matthew good on the street in vancouver. he's one of those really polarizing artists - you either love his vocals or think he sounds like a dying sheep; you either think he's a genius or just your garden-variety asshole - but i've never been ashamed of the fact that he's one of the only musicians whose singing voice has reduced me to a sobbing wreck on more than one occasion. and yes, that's a good thing.

noel gallagher is a daddy! many congrats! hopefully the little tyke will be raised to be just as much of an insult-slinging douche as his father.

so 50's not taking his ball and going home...damn. kanye ftw -- he's got style, though not necessarily class, what with the temper tantrums and all. (the cover article about him in the new blender is pretty damn good -- idolator takes a look at it here)

funny/cute moment of the past week: i was reading the georgia straight's best of vancouver feature, and all of a sudden a huge, dopey grin broke across my face, and i exclaimed, "oh holy shit!" out loud -- because it really kind of hit me then that in less than two weeks' time, vancouver is going to be my new home. holy shit, indeed.

on that night, i had my final night at the bovine last night -- my last time hanging out at the bar that's been my second home for five years. amazingly good times, with loud punk rock music and too much alcohol and free alcohol and many hugs and chain-smoking on the street and friends i haven't seen in ages and a final goodbye to a sort-of ex who was both one of my worst and best mistakes of the past year. (i'd like to think he feels the same way about me.) i was a bit choked up as i boozily dragged myself to bed after i got home, i can admit it.

my apartment is more or less empty, and i'm just about finished here.

p.s. i'll also admit now that i'm kind of afraid to go to los angeles. i'm almost certain i'm going to fall desperately in love with it and will want to find some way to live there forever.

p.p.s. had lunch with a friend at the legendary dangerous dan's on saturday; am still more than half-convinced that the mozzarella & mushroom burger i ordered from the vegetarian menu was actual beef. either that or it was one hell of a juicy soy-based facsimile.

[ music | the clash, "this is radio clash" ]

would've been could've been

"i got an autograph -- and a grope." - me

that kind of sums up the majority of my concert experiences, actually.

via stereogum: 2007 mtvu woodie nominations. i'm still confused as to why this sort of thing exists, because it seems like even less people care about indie award shows than they do big overhyped awards shows, but i guess everyone needs some cred.

by the way, the `gum's got this great cover of depeche mode's "enjoy the silence" posted...i don't know who this division day band are, but damn if i'm not in love. so good.

chart versus ian blurton! well, not in a grudge match sort of way because we're down with the beard, but it's definitely worth a read. it doesn't list it on there, but c'mon are playing ace's top hole (i seriously don't even know where that is -- i think it might be in the hub somewhere) in kingston on saturday september 29th, at which i will be their acting merch girl.

also from the mag's website: i talk to maya ford of the donnas. sorry about the shitty quality of the article, the interview was maybe all of eight minutes so i had very little to work with. and i try not to pad online news articles like i would a print feature...bah. oh well, will do better next time. (i'm fairly sure i can still do interviews and articles for chart from the west coast, so i'm not giving it up yet)

blogto's got snaps from the incredible hulk movie set down on yonge street. total coolness. i'm kinda gonna miss hollywood north, although i hear vancouver's even wilder when it comes to film shoots. (still, i've had many craft service dudes as customers at my store, and many have been very nice)

lord help us: hard-fi have covered britney spears. actually, the rest of the tracks on that album don't look half bad -- i will kill for a copy of editors' cover of the cure's "lullaby". tom mentioned that cover to me when i interviewed him a few months ago, and i swear i almost started salivating right then and there.

more from the brits: vodafone live music awards 2007 winner list. all the usual suspects, but hey, they've even got an award for best tour roadie! that makes me happy. roadies need appreciation, too. (not to say i've ever been a member of the school of groupies who believe that roadies need appreciation, but you know)

and now, updates on the three points of crazy mass awesomeness from the last entry...

- shiny toy guns were massive. massively awesome. sitting the mtv live taping was kind of boring (you can see clips of the interview and the performance at the website, though), but both their tv performance and the full show itself at the opera house were spot fuckin' on. at one point during the show, i turned to amanda, gestured to the wild packed house behind us, and said, "take a look at that, then remember the big bop." because she and i saw the shinys play to maybe 200 people at the reverb way back in june 2006, and now they've kind of exploded all over the place since then. wow. i can't think of any band who deserves it more.

- the muchmoremusic taping yesterday morning went significantly well. it's going to be for their documentary show popaganda, and it's airing in early november sometime. i flubbed a few lines and i probably looked fat and terrible, but i managed to put on my "intelligent voice" (which i haven't pulled out since class oral presentations in university, and sounds remarkably similar to my father's "teacher voice") and even used "exacerbate" in a sentence. my father will be so proud.

anyway, i went over so well that they were discussing possibly getting me to do some segments on going coastal - their east/west coast pop culture coverage show - once i move out to vancouver. so, uh, is this me travelling down the slippery slope to broadcast media? we'll see, i guess. i think it might be fun.

- the nikki sixx interview kind of...didn't happen. i wasn't exactly too thrilled to waste my tuesday sitting in front of my laptop and refreshing my e-mail every five minutes - if only to eventually get word from the publicist that the only open interview slots would have to be wednesday and friday night, and i had work shifts scheduled both nights - especially since i cancelled a bloody doctor's appointment to be available for anything last-minute. fortunately, my editor just asked when i might be available next week instead, which would work so much better for me. i might even get to snag an in-person spot! so, silver lining and all.

oh, and looks like i'm getting more of my kicks in than expected: i'm off to montréal for an overnight trip, october 2-3. i'd mentioned to my father a few weeks ago that i wanted to try and take the bus to montréal during the week when i'm home (kingston and montreal are fairly close, after all), because for one i adore montréal probably more than any other canadian city, and for two my favourite uncle in the entire universe (the one mentioned in this entry here) lives there. since this uncle is my dad's brother - and my dad is big on encouraging family bonding - my dad offered to pay for my bus ticket there and back, and encouraged me to give my uncle a call to see if it would be okay to come see him and crash at his place for the night. both my uncle and his partner were up for it, so i guess i'm making my way to la belle province in a couple of weeks. (not sure what i'm gonna do there, aside from hang with mon oncle and maybe hook up with old work buddy sean for drinks...but eh, i always make my own fun in strange cities)

then i just got my expedia receipts for my los angeles trip next month...it's travel mania over here, i'm telling you. and i couldn't be happier, ever. i actually want to try and find a job that would require a lot of travel, because i'm convinced that that's what i'd be made for. i'm never so content as i am on the road. i think i'm a fucking gypsy.

okay, i'm out. be good to each other.

[ music | blaqk audio, "stiff kittens" ]

the future's open wide

had some more upbeat additions to the lilithpod lately: red hot chili peppers ("dani california", probably one of the few songs of theirs i enjoy...well, that and "scar tissue", i have good memories with that song), modest mouse, a couple rare kill hannah b-sides. this time of year needs some of that, before i dive into my annual post-punk desolation of late fall. ah, feels good.

in the meantime, a lot of crazy mass awesomeness coming up next week. observe:

- shiny toy guns playing twice in toronto next tuesday -- once at the mtv canada studios in the afternoon and then that evening at the opera house. already got my tickets, of course, and i'll be there in full stiletto-heeled cybergoth glory. there's only one way to do it, after all.

- i've been asked by a producer at muchmoremusic to appear as a commentator on one of their music documentary shows. apparently it's going to be about celebrities and mental illnesses, or the link between genius and insanity; fortunately, i don't have to be an authority on mental illnesses - they'll have a psychiatrist for that - so i just have to talk about the celebrity psyche. maybe it'll be my job to explain to the masses why britney spears is batshit insane. (it's kind of amusing that my specialist degree in 19th century english lit might finally come in handy -- the writers of the 19th century were the boozing, drugged-up, mentally whack celebrities of their time, after all) anyway, that's being taped later on in the week, though i've no idea when it'll actually air on tv. i doubt i'll ever watch it myself, though, since i have a hard time even listening to my own voice on recording. way too self-conscious, me. (still, this will not prevent me from wearing a kill hannah shirt on air.)

- i'm interviewing nikki fucking sixx. this almost totally makes up for the loss of the dave gahan interview last week. granted, i'm not sure yet if it'll be a phoner or in person, but he is gonna be here to dj at the bovine to launch his new book (which i get to review over the weekend -- obviously this interview is going to be more about his book, less about motley crue)...so hmmm. i'm one of the bazillion girls who think nikki is the sex, so you can see how this is giving me a minor brain hemorrhage.

this also means it's a weekend of druggies over here in review-land: not only do i have nikki's book to go through, but i have the johnny thunders dvd to watch and review. sounds like a plan.

the star wraps up the film fest. no sign of a theatrical release date for control...that link says october 10th, but that's in the states, so maybe jenna and i will have to make a day trip down to washington to check it out. (speaking of the movies, i just got back from seeing shoot 'em up with sheileen. candidate for every academy award out there!)

okay, i'll admit it: i'm a tad disappointed i won't get to see any dates on razorlight's north american tour in november. i suppose i could head down to seattle on the 15th, but it depends if i'm working in vancouver by then. i'm still more glad that the cure have rescheduled their tour dates, even if 1) i have to wait until next spring and 2) i won't get to see them twice, unless i fly to los angeles or something. well...hmm.

bad train of thought. bad. so many possibilities opening up with my new life, though...!

via oh no they didn't!: the story behind "hey there delilah". they even play that song at my work. they don't play anything even remotely cool at my work other than "dani california" (see paragraph #1), r.e.m.'s "losing my religion" maybe once every three weeks, and modern english's "i melt with you" once in a blue moon. i want to work at a record store, damn it. (finally rented empire records, by the way. cute story, but i fucking hated every single character in that movie. what a bunch of functionally retarded whiners and losers.)

oh yeah, and i've been reading a lot of beyond robson lately, and it's kind of bumming me out. i mean, it's hardly updated even a fraction as much as blogto, and when it is, the news is always negative and bitter. well, there's something to look forward to.

on the moving side, the selling of my possessions is going well. so far, i've unloaded my dresser & endtable set, my white armchair, my stereo and my blender; waiting on payment and pickup for my turntable (going to a friend), my steam iron & board (going to an online buyer), and my dehumidifier (going to my landlord for one of his other tenants), plus one of my coworkers has already made an obligation to buy my computer. so: it's all good, and my apartment is emptying at an excellent rate. still, there need to be more garbage days in the month. i mean, really.

yet here are the cds i'm keeping (though not taking with me -- they're going into storage at my dad's), because for one reason or another, they remind me:

moist - silver / creature / creature (japanese import) / mercedes 5 & dime / mercedes 5 & dime (american import) / machine punch through: the singles collection / gasoline cd single / breathe remix ep
david usher - little songs / morning orbit / hallucinations / morning orbit tour 2001 live bootleg
rye - wolves / wolves advance copy / full album demo 2003 / three-song demo sample
crash kelly - penny pills / penny pills advance copy / electric satisfaction
the conscience pilate - movie scene street / sunday refugees
neil leyton - down secret avenue with the last lovers / down secret avenue with the last lovers advance promo / my new soul ep / melancholy, understanding ep / ...from the brighter side of her midnight sun / evolver: a ten year collection / beat ep
the tea party - the edges of twilight / alhambra / transmission / triptych / tangents: the tea party collection / the interzone mantras / seven circles
our lady peace - gravity
the killers - hot fuss
stirling - northern light
the cure - disintegration / pornography
interpol - turn on the bright lights / antics
towers of london - blood sweat & towers
kill hannah - american jet set / american jet set advance promo / for never & ever / the curse of kill hannah: 1995-2005 / until there's nothing left of us
editors - the back room / an end has a start
the black halos - s/t / the violent years / alive without control
various artists - suicidegirls: black heart retrospective
razorlight - up all night

...everything else, i sold, gave away or pitched out. them's the breaks. this is why i love you, itunes. (though i'm starting to think lilithpod will need to be replaced soon -- i've had it for almost two years now, and it's getting a little shaky)

here are the beloved books i'm taking with me (because while cds can be replaced by mp3s, books are fucking vital to me):

antoine de saint-exupery - le petit prince
chuck klosterman - sex, drugs and cocoa puffs / fargo rock city / killing yourself to live
neil gaiman - american gods
pamela des barres - let's spend the night together: backstage secrets of muses and supergroupies
mark makoway - the indie band bible
motley crue - the dirt
jen sincero - don't sleep with your drummer (this book is actually on loan from jenna, so i'm bringing it back to her as she's giving me back my copy of never enough: the story of the cure)
caroline sullivan - bye bye baby
the goddess tarot
the immune system cure
the vegetarian times cookbook

...and, of course, my father's own first book, in which he wrote a small inscription for me. (the book's formal dedication reads: "For my daughters, Megan and Caitlin" -- that'd be my sister and i) actually kind of nice that his next book is based in vancouver, which means he'll be doing a lot of research out there next year. plus my stepmother's son and his family live in north van, which means: lots of family visits. which is a very good thing, given how much of a daddy's girl i am. it rips me up that i'm gonna be living so far from him, really.

and now, the two biggest "oh fuck me" moments of the week: finding out that the devious people at pc mastercard just raised my credit limit (and also sent me a pack of "convenience cheques", which is an additional oh shit moment -- the first thing my mother said was, "tear them up. now."), and discovering that redemption klothing has the rest of the lip service holiday 2007 line photos online. i'm kind of totally in love with this winter coat, this bitchin' jacket, and basically everything from the new hollywood geisha line. too bad all their new models look like unfortunate drag queens.

p.s. i've really been trying to hate hard-fi's new single, but i just can't. damn it.

[ music | camp freddy radio ]

about a boy

(i can forget about it 363 days out of the year, but at this time, in this season, with autumn coming on and the wind getting more brisk and the students returning to campus and me starting to actually feel my adult age... putting the memory aside is not an option. funny, though, how current events have coincided recently...the past will catch you up as you run faster, indeed.)

so two years have passed, right down to the day, and i kind of want to talk about it now. after all, i've since come to determine that on this night two years ago was when everything turned for me.

it's funny how one of the biggest things i've learned in the last five years is how time really changes everything. after a few years have passed, something that seems so all-consuming and important can become completely less so, friendships and relationships can totally change, and more often than not, things resolve in such mysterious ways that i really do believe - more than ever before - in the concept of fate, and things working out the way they're supposed to. time brings clarification, consolation, and if not finality then at least some acceptance. and so it really no longer matters to me if he reads this, or if she reads this (are congratulations in order, by the way? you tell me, sweetheart), or whoever. i'm just so past the point where i'd normally care, where i once cared so deeply that i wouldn't dare say a word. i had too much to protect, once upon a time.

but, because it makes a good story - and i always aim to make my life a story worth telling - and because enough time has passed, i want to talk about the two days in september 2005 that i spent in new york city.

i also want to share bits of the entry i wrote in my private diary the day after i arrived home from that trip, having left toronto knowing that everything would be different when i came back -- and i definitely wasn't wrong in my foresight. this bit is something i remember scribbling in a notebook while waiting on the departure bus out of nyc, to be later typed up and added into my diary:

"The best analogy I can come up with is the image of tossing a stone into a puddle, setting off ripples that just keep continuing to show an effect. I threw that stone on Thursday night, and it was a big one. I know I set a hell of a lot of things in motion, but I feel confident and in total control of everything I chose to do."

bang. fucking. on. two years now and those ripples are still going. (whether i'm still in control or not is a bone of contention by now, though.)

i guess i should start with what i remember the most. it was late wednesday night when i boarded the bus in toronto, excitedly clutching a greyhound ticket to new york city. i'd mentioned my trip here, but it was purposefully as a casual last-minute post. truthfully, the whole trip was pretty well a last-minute idea -- i'd only decided to go less than two weeks earlier. but hey, why the hell not -- one of my most beloved local indie bands was playing a label showcase for a music festival, along with two other canadian bands that i'd become a quick fan of over the summer. (looking back on it, 2005 had been a banner year for me; i'd done a lot of music writing, met and befriended many awesome musicians, and did a lot of coming into my own. true, there were plenty of trials by fire and a couple crazy emotional breakdowns, but i can't think of any other year where i experienced more or grew up more than 2005. it really set the blueprint for a lot of current things in my life, too.)

but there was also a third band, and they ended up becoming the main reason why i went. or, rather, it was a particular member of that band who'd had a crush on me ever since we'd met back in may of that year. i liked him, sure - although some of my friends argued that i was just using his slavering affections to make my recent ex (a member of the aformentioned beloved local band) jealous, and they weren't entirely wrong there - but i liked his invitation to spend my two planned days in new york city hanging out with him and his band even more. sounded like a rock n' roll adventure to me.

so there i was on the wednesday night, in my favourite place to be in the world (it still is, actually): sitting alone on a darkened coach bus, en route to the next big concert. all i'd brought to eat was an apple and sparse bits of soy trail mix (this was back when i was still starving myself thin, which isn't something i really like admitting to these days, but there you go), and i was only listening to two cds: a mix cd i'd burned a few days prior that opened with the bravery's "an honest mistake" (i was going to new york city, after all), and the suicidegirls: black heart retrospective compilation. even today, listening to anything from that album - especially the cult's "she sells sanctuary", bauhaus' "she's in parties", gene loves jezebel's "desire" or ministry's "every day is halloween" - will take me immediately back to that autumn bus ride through the midnight rain, all through new york state.

i remember it being dreary and foggy when we pulled into new york city thursday morning. it was humid, too; i was already sweaty and not looking too attractive after being on a bus from 11:15 at night to 11:05 the next morning. but i don't think any of that could have quelled my excitement at a) being on my first big solo band-following trip (into another country, omfg!), and b) being in america alone. i'm a whore for solo travel; i love experiencing concert trips with a best friend, sure, but if it's something as big an occasion as that new york city trip was, then i'll go it alone all the way. especially if it involves american travel. (one of my slightly guilty secrets is how much i fucking love the united states. i could never live there and being there for more than three days makes me feel weird, but i always jump at the chance to visit.)

well, i went it alone as far as getting off that bus at the station in nyc. from there, it was the boy, and his band, and the traffic jams, and the ridiculous excitement, and the shy flirtations, and the mass amounts of caffeine, and the music and laughter and stiletto heels as the suddenly-sunny afternoon turned into the glittering evening.

...this was a bastardized account of my night. really, don't bother with it. or, at least, read it but keep in mind - actually, always keep in mind when it comes to me writing about my life - that i am very, very skilled at selective truth-telling. i have never once lied in this blog, a fact which i'm pretty proud of, but i commonly choose what i will and will not write about. i never tell the whole story.

but i will say that to this day, not any single other night has shone so brightly in my memory. not any of my nights on tour last spring. not any of the nights on the brief tour in 2006. not any of my formative days as a teenager on the road, band-following with my friends. none of them.

why is that?

here's what i've since managed to figure out: see, when i first started following rock bands around the country seven years ago, it was as an escape. trying to find an exit hatch to another place, another reality, whatever, is something that i've always been searching for, ever since i was a kid engrossed in fictional and imaginary worlds. (i don't look for someone to save me; i look for somewhere to escape to, so i can save myself.)

and when i discovered rock bands - musicians being the closest real-life equivalent to fictional characters - i realized that they had their own world. it was all there; the cliche'd sex-drugs-rock-n-roll, but also a place of endless touring, backstage areas, debauchery, late nights, wild lives, no control. it wasn't "the real world" -- not boring old everyday-life reality. it wasn't normal or typical in any way. it was another place altogether (an old david posse friend and i dubbed it "the alternate universe"), inhabited by these crazy fucked-up individuals who happened to be rock stars, where they made the rules and just about anything was possible. i'd caught a few glimpses of the alternate universe when i was seventeen, and that had been my driving force ever since -- to get there.

and on that warm september night, when i was twenty-one years old, i'd actually attained it. i was right in that world, i was fucking living in it, that reality i'd been striving to get to since i was a young teenager, staring at my rock band posters and wanting so desperately to be where they were. exactly two years ago right now, in new york city, i was living the dream: getting drunk at a sweaty rock club, my fetish blouse unbuttoned and feeling brazenly attractive in my fishnets and knee-high boots, laughing as i sold my friends' band's albums and t-shirts, smoking outside and staring up at the hazy bright lights of the lower east side, chilling in the downstairs green room with the bands, weaving my way through the crowds, tossing back multiple shots of jagermeister with the musicians, and, most importantly, being seen by all as the girlfriend of one of the guys in the band. (of course i was not, but given the amount of pda we were openly engaged in at pretty much all times, nobody would have questioned it and neither he nor i would have denied it)

so this was my night of fangirl glory, what i can remember of it at least. this was my first time actually feeling like i belonged with them -- with the musicians whose company and acceptance i'd craved since i was a teenager. this was also the first night i formally met the members of a certain canadian punk band called the black halos, after having only communicated via myspace and a few written reviews and one amiable phone interview that led to an article and some scattered e-mail correspondence afterwards. i look back at the parts of my old diary entry where i briefly mentioned those black-clad boys in nyc - and, later, all across southern ontario in the fall - then look at the tattoo on my abdomen and just laugh. if only i'd known where that path would eventually lead. (as a testament to my mass amounts of imbibement on this particular occasion, adam still refers to the new york gig as "that night you were wasted")

and i won't lie -- a lot of it did have to do with the fact that i thought i'd finally found the musician who wanted me more than any of the other girls. (groupies. whatever.) that night was something else, indeed. there was a much-later aftermath to our affair, of course - one which would involve long-distance calls, lies, e-mails that became suspiciously sporadic, promises that proved false, stupid forgiveness on my part, lots of instant messaging, eroticism over the phone line, lies, my eventual first experience with going on the road with a band (no, last spring with the halos wasn't the first time), more lies, uncertainty, fading hope, and finally a spectacular flameout in which i told the boy to never contact me again - but the following day spent in nyc was one i remember as contented, if not also muggy and damp.

there were walks through central parks and holding hands on the streets of new york, being a cute rockstar couple. there was cheap dinner at a pub (i think i just had a corona, actually), being stuck in traffic, and him driving me through times square at 9 p.m. and grinning as i stuck my head out of the band van window to gaze at the neon lights in wonder. (i've always been a huge sucker for big cities at night.) there was him finally pulling away from the bus station at port authority, leaving me to catch the second bus home to toronto - i'd missed my first one because we couldn't find a place to park - while leaning my head against the window and writing these words in my notebook:

"I stared out the window at the passing lights of New York City with tears running down my face. But they weren't ALL sad, really; just like before, it was a lot of happiness and a lot of relief, and a lot of eagerness to see what's going to happen from here on. The stone I tossed into the puddle was a fucking huge one, and I have no doubt the ripple effect is going to hit more people than just us. More keenly than anything, I knew that something was just beginning, and for better or worse, I started something in New York City that would be another defining part of my life.

I don't know what this is. I don't know what this is going to be. I don't know what this CAN be, really. But this is something, and right now, that's enough for me. I want to be happy with just this.

I suppose time will tell where things go from here."

...two years down the line and the story, to me, is still fucking epic -- especially given how it started, how it played out and how it eventually ended, and how much everything changed because of those two days in new york city. how much everything is still changing, and how different things would be in my life right now if that adventure had never happened.

new york, a rock star, a hotel room, one impossible dream finally realized. although i did have to pay for it, in the end, although i still can't say i regret it -- because to me, trading a part of myself to him in exchange for entrance to that world - no matter how brief, no matter how much it damned me to make me always long to go back - was worth it.

...the one question he never failed to ask me repeatedly in the months that followed was, "do you regret it?"

no. i don't regret it. i didn't. i still don't.

i will hold my own story up to anyone who says that losing your virginity isn't a big deal.

[ music | fuel, "hemorrhage (in my hands)" ]

she wanders on purpose

one of the interesting things about being a music critic is how often i find myself liking an album i wouldn't normally like, yet i enjoy it as i listen to it because it's different. i think the biggest thing i tear my hair out over while reviewing is how soundalike pretty much 97% of bands are these days; then again, this might have something to do with the fact that i often end up with the nu-metal and post-postgrunge, which are the biggest copycat genres out there. seriously, every band in that area aims to sound exactly like whichever similar band is huge on radio right now, and it drives me up the fucking wall to hear yet another band aping that whole nickelback/hinder hideousness. sure, it sells records. is it unique? fuck no.

according to my massive "reviews" document, i've written 38 pages worth of cd and dvd reviews over the last four years. pretty much every thursday or friday since 2003, i've stopped in at the chart magazine office, picked up whatever assigned cds my editors have put in my mailbox, scanned the to-be-reviewed shelf of submitted random cds, and gone home to spend any spare weekend time reviewing albums. even if i only manage one or two (i try for three per weekend), i still need to do it. it's a compulsion of mine; it keeps me feeling accomplished as a music journalist.

this is why i generally find myself giving good reviews to weird shit like the howling hex and dax riggs and tranzmitors and iliketrains and scout niblett -- i would never listen to that stuff if i didn't have to, but just the fact that they're doing something different from the herds - and doing it well - scores the highest of marks with me. i don't care if i wouldn't normally like it; so long as you're doing your own thing and doing it decently well, as a critic, i'm impressed. and the fact that i've managed to get to this point after four years without really being conscious of it is a good sign to me.

see, i recall what ex-roomie jenn - a journalism grad student - told me a couple years ago: "it shouldn't matter whether you like it or not. what should matter is if it succeeds at its intended purpose." and the fact that i can review without personal genre bias (well, mostly) makes me feel somewhat successful as a critic. (you have to understand that i never got into this industry to be a critic -- i wanted to be a straight-up journalist, because i wasn't fond of the idea of tearing down musicians and their albums. but to be a music journalist is also to be a music critic, and i've since gotten used to wearing both hats, not to mention taking great pride in the responsibilities that come with both.)

what do i listen to in my free time (aka when i have a choice)? my last.fm weekly spins chart to your right is generally pretty accurate. my biggest hitters right now are bands like kill hannah, interpol, placebo, shiny toy guns, the black halos, stellastarr*, depeche mode -- i will rarely skip tracks if one of their songs comes up, no matter how many times i've already listened to it. the music of bands like moist, the cure and the conscience pilate are so far ingrained in me that i don't listen to them as much anymore, but they still hold a special place; they are the bands i usually name. there are bands i have to be in the mood for - she wants revenge, razorlight, editors, towers of london, lostprophets, the tea party - but if i want `em, nothing else will do.

you can see how it's kind of hard for me to answer the question "what kind of music do you listen to?" (seriously, never ask a music critic that. worst question ever.)

okay, this is boring. onto the more brainless amusements:

idolator wraps up the press coverage of britney's vmas performance last night. torontoist said something about schedenfreude and that's my only excuse for being somewhat interested. (miss modernage has an ouchworthy take, plus the video)

something to keep me more (and unashamedly) interested: tommy lee fought kid rock last night! battling over pamela anderson, how rad. i love me some tommy, no matter how dirty or how many stds, but my money would still be on kid in that fight.

stereogum fills us in on sara evans, new supergroupie. 3 doors down?? seriously? now that's not a notch to be putting on your groupie belt. (and that's coming from me, who has a few dubious ones herself)

jam! music visited the islands this weekend and liveblogged the virgin festival. i'm sure there'll be more reviews rolling in throughout today, but it sounds like it was a damn good affair. still wish i could have been there, but i spent saturday at the ontario science centre with my dad before having a nice dinner down in the beaches, so i think i got just as good a deal (if not better, because my dad is awesome).

chart talks to editors yet again...and this time, it wasn't me doing the interview! oh well, i don't mind passing the mantle. (and i'm continuously amazed at how my love for editors has held up over the years, even through a new interpol album!)

via blogto: google map mash-up of toronto to montreal! yeah, i know that's kind of dull, but i know that stretch of the 401 far too well -- i must've taken it dozens of times in the last five years to go home and back. (if you spot the dot that says "Kingston", that's where i'm from) also, a commemoration because i'm doing that route one final time in less than three weeks. holy shit.

oh yeah, and the other big news is that i'm going to be in los angeles from october 19th to the 23rd. figure i might as well get my west-coast travel kicks in before i have to go back to work. still, the knowledge that i'm getting to spend a weekend in los angeles - which, in my mind, is a sleazier, more rockstar-like new york city - is enough to make me spontaneously break out into excited giggling no matter where i am or what i'm doing. i'm disturbing.

p.s. finally getting a haircut on friday. fuck yes.

[ music | modest mouse, "missed the boat" ]

someone else's train

newest additions to my lilithpod: the clash, the cult (i really, really love that new single), red lorry yellow lorry (got a lovely care package of goth cds and jellybeans from brother adam), new order. now, if itunes would just stop random eating my album artwork... (though i love how the majority of my ipod memory space is being taken up by super-lengthy sisters of mercy tracks)

ashamedly, if i lived in brooklyn, i would so try out for this. i figure my presently boring life needs some reality-tv surrealism. though it's kind of funny and kind of sad that when i read the part of the original casting call that said "ideally they [the contestants] would be 24 years old and older", i immediately thought i would be too young, then i realized i'm turning 24 next month. ah, fuck. (it's gonna be a goddamn crisis when i turn 25, i'm telling you.)

the `light is playing new north american shows! could somebody go to their toronto show on november 11th and see if johnny gives any excuse/explanation for why they cancelled their last toronto show at the very last minute? because really, i'm still curious. (even more of a curiousity: the johnny borrell action figure? wtf? that just seems so...wrong to me)

joy division movie mania! pretty freaky how closely sam riley resembles ian curtis, no? (there's also info in that article about other music-based films in the fest...heavy metal in baghdad sounds interesting)

if you're one of the lucky bastards off to the virgin festival this weekend (as i've mentioned already, my weekend's already taken up by father visit tomorrow and work all day sunday), the toronto star has your guide. i feel sort of bad for editors that they're playing the same fest as interpol, but at least they're not playing, like, the slot before them or something.

via oh no they didn't!: jake gyllenhaal flies air canada! okay, i'm sorry i dorked out over that for a bit, even though i'm partial to westjet. (still, depending on my funds next month, air canada may or may not be flying me from seattle to los angeles for a week of partying and general insanity)

i'm continuing to be a workaholic hermit out here on the east end - gotta save my pennies for the big move - which means no film festival madness for me (which is okay because as i've said before, movie stars don't do it for me, aside from jake g. flying air canada -- rock stars, on the other hand...), but it looks like i'm heading to the bovine next tuesday night for a friend's birthday, then to the mod club next saturday for another friend's birthday. so, not exactly a slow week. yet i've been out of the loop for so long that i almost worry i'll just be entirely socially inept once i'm back on the town...fingers crossed that it's like riding a bicycle.

p.s. i'm re-reading this book right now and constantly being reminded how fucking rad it is. you should read it.

[ music | red lorry yellow lorry, "generation" ]

a popular attraction still

best way to spend labour day off: traipsing through the cne at night with one of your best friends.

the evening started in two good ways: 1) boozing at amanda's downtown apartment while watching bad reality tv (the drink of choice being, of course, a concoction of our own making years ago: the "mandacait", a combination of peach schnapps and cranberry juice), and being handed free unlimited midway passes by some stranger while waiting in line at the ex. no entry fee? score!

although suspicious of free goods, they turned out to be legit, and so amanda and i were set loose in the cne. we tried to get into the casino to gawk at the poor fools being parted from their money (the casino ended up being closed - an hour early, mind you - when we went back later) before getting sidetracked by the arts & crafts hall, where we ran amok oooh-ing and ahhh-ing over things while attempting to keep tight reins on our wallets. we both fell in love with pylon's "string dolls", and agreed to get a matching pair of our mutual favourite, "dark boy" (he's the last one in the first row here). so freakily cute! seriously, those things were to die for. i wanted to buy a bunch - for myself and as gifts - but at $11 each, uh, one would have to do. (my dark boy is currently attached to the zipper on my shoulder bag, where he will stay and look adorable)

we even did traditional cne junk food, ice-cream waffle sandwiches and caramel apples rolled in peanuts; stopped just short of a bucket of mini donuts. even poutine was under consideration at one point, though amanda ended up getting some french-fry concoction with sour cream, grated cheese and green onions. (i played it safe and stuck with falafel)

thankfully, there was no vomiting on the midway for us, since we were both kinda killjoys when it came to that sort of thing -- amanda wouldn't go on any "spinny" rides, and i refused to set foot on anything that went a) up in the air and/or b) upside down. plus we were both too smart to waste our money on carnival games - i argued that any stuffed animal i won would just have to be donated to goodwill by the end of the month anyway - so we ended up doing a lot of walking, talking, and looking at things, which did us well. we're easy like that.

here there be photos!


amanda and i walking the midway in the early evening. trendy downwards myspace bff shot!


sign: "physically or mentally challenged guests may find this ride unsuitable." i am saddened by this.


amanda, plus a pair of giant cartoon hooters. is nice!


nighttime midway on the horizon, walking back from the casino area. i'm a sucker for things all lit up after dark.


upwards angle shot of the ferris wheel, one of the gazillion midway rides i would not set foot on. (the last time i did so - and it was a tiny ferris wheel - i ended up screaming so loudly after one rotation that they stopped the ride to let me off)


amanda and i showing off our matching dark boys, being cool beans.



excitable double-chin alert!


quoth amanda: "you can't look emo on a merry-go-round"


taken at the photo booth in bathurst station on the way home. we're retarded.

last night was also delivery time to amanda's place, as she's been the recipient of a number of music-related memorabilia that i've been getting rid of before my move. this includes: a six-foot tall moist uk subway poster from 1995; sean kelly's first acoustic guitar, smashed to bits by a drunken neil leyton (i had it mounted on my living room wall as an art piece); and the infamous "alimony lamp".

amusing little story behind that last one: see, a couple years back, i was dating a musician. that's hardly anything new for me these days, but at the time, it was one of my first occasions of legitimately dating someone in a rock band -- and, moreover, this particular musician was a former member of a 90's indie band that was one of my absolute favourites. i'd actually had a band photo with his 25-year-old self on it pasted up on my bedroom wall for some time before we'd ever met. (from this information, one could assume that there was a bit of a creepily large age gap betwen us, and one would be correct -- he was 32 and i was 20) so, you can see how this would be a huge omgwtf deal for me. it was also kind of a testament to how much my life was slowly becoming like a surreal tv movie. hello, entirety of 2005!

anyway, so of course said musician broke up with me, broke my heart, it took me the better portion of a year to forgive him for it, etc. etc. but the week before he dumped me over the phone (was still in love with his ex, couldn't do another relationship at this point in time, blah blah fucking blah), he'd picked up a gift of an oriental hanging lamp for me. then, of course, came breakup time, so i never received my lamp (nor was i really thinking about it much in between crying so hard it felt like i was being kicked in the ribs). after the initial few months of icy excommunication passed, we were once more in contact, though that was more due in part to the fact that he'd just joined one of my beloved local indie bands (and so i couldn't avoid him even if i tried). then the whole issue turned to the fact that he still had this lamp of mine, and that i "should come by and get it sometime", and i of course kept taking that to be some ploy to get me back in his bedroom, and even kind of doubted the existence of said lamp. but the lamp actually did exist, and i did finally get it, although it was after i eventually fell for the aformentioned possible ploy. he was pretty. i was weak. bah.

so the lamp's been in my possession ever since, hanging from a hook on my ceiling, and it's actually pretty nifty when you turn it on (the bulb is inside, so the entire lantern lights up and glows red). alas, it's one of those things that i know i can live without - and trust me, that sums up pretty much everything i own, no matter how much sentimental value - and so i've since bequeathed it upon amanda who, upon seeing it, exclaimed, "oh my god, is that the lamp??" so yeah, the alimony lamp (nicknamed as such ever since i wryly referred to it as "the last of the alimony") is now in her possession. fab.

okay, it's now four minutes past midnight and i'm crashing out.

p.s. girl on the subway last night got mad at her boyfriend when she caught him checking out my ass. haha

[ music | missing persons, "walking in l.a." ]

the sum of all things

it was funny, because after i wrote that last entry, i listened to kill hannah's song "hummingbirds the size of bullets" (while ordering a new kh hoodie from their webstore, in a moment of inspired weakness -- i wore out my last one besides) and felt kind of like my chest was being crushed with a bulldozer. i've never been able to understand or comprehend the destructive power of that one song; it's so lo-fi and low quality, especially considering the considerably higher-budget gloss of kh's current material (if i remember my kh discography correctly, "hummingbirds" dates back to 1996), but there's something in its emptiness and desperation that just fucking ruins me every time.

conclusion: if kill hannah are my second moist, then to me, that song is their "believe me" (a song which, as i never fail to remind people, means so much to me that i got the opening bass notes inked under my skin permanently).

now, i don't care much for the besnard lakes or ratt, but this was a really cute concept. i think chart ought to try and do this sort of thing more often -- sure, the vast majority of musicians have an i.q. stunted at their maturity age level (which would somewhere around 15-17 years old), but the ones that can write can do it amazingly well. damn you, multi-talents!

another act down for the virgin festival. having done the industry side of things, i can only imagine the crazy panic that must be going down with the bookers right about now. (that said, i still can't believe the lineup for the festival has gotten this big. am i remembering last year wrong, or wasn't it only, like, ten acts in 2006?)

look, seriously, i love ian watkins. i really, really do. anybody who can win me over through a phone interview has definitely got some mad skills. (or, you know, not, since it's not like it's terribly difficult for a hot male musician with an accent to win me over)

sometimes i wish i could be a celeb scenester like this chick. she's not the new edie sedgwick but i'm kinda sorta fascinated by her life/fame(?) nonetheless. it also renews my desire to someday live in new york city. someday!

i went through these as a kid. according to my mother, i would wake up screaming all the time but wouldn't remember a thing about it in the morning. funny how i rarely have anything even resembling nightmares anymore.

in the same area of "linkage only i find amusing and relevant", here's a review for teeth, the film responsible for one of my old `bucks coworker's infamous quote about me: "i read about this film at sundance about a girl with a fanged vagina. it reminded me of you somehow." (even today, he still calls me "fangs" and "vagina teeth")

oh yeah, and i got my editors article in the newest issue of chart magazine. try to find the insanely obscure moist song reference in the sub-headline! (i throw those in there sometimes. i can't help it.)

now, tonight! i attend the closing night of the canadian national exhibition with buddy amanda (and possibly other buddies, but hers is the place i'm getting drunk at beforehand). i'm sure getting hammered on liquor and cheap beer before heading out to toronto's biggest fun fair isn't the best idea in the world, but the day my logic makes sense to anybody but myself will be a day of damn good ice skating in hell. i'm out.

[ music | interpol, "narc" ]

we are accidents waiting to happen

i went for a walk at dusk tonight.

i hadn't made that walk in ages. months, at least...maybe not since february, or march. it wasn't fear that kept me away so long, or shame, although some would think so; it was more that i didn't want to have to face things, i guess. pretend that it was another life, and too far behind me now to dredge up again. why bother, really?

then again, thinking on it, it might possibly have been fear, but not of the possible physical confrontation -- it was the fear of the memories, and the emotions, and the knowledge that i'd never been so content with things as i had been at the time, walking down that street, one year ago. it was the fear that i'd somehow want all that back - and the fear that i'd be saddened to see how it had all continued on without me - that was keeping me away. afraid of myself and my own likely feelings, i guess you could say.

twenty minutes' walk away from home, i stepped over that same old threshold, saw both new and familiar faces, was greeted with huge grins and hugs and a welcome befitting a long-lost sibling. (which, in essence, i kind of am. former black sheep of the family, more like.) not much had changed in the place since my year-long tenure - and my graceless exit at the end of it all - but even the smallest things that were different, i noticed. it was like coming home, if home was somewhere in a past that you locked away because you didn't want to admit you missed it.

then i guess it all clicked for me when i said to billy - my little brother billy - truly and honestly, "you know, it was this time last year - like, august and september last year - when i was probably the happiest i've been in the last five years."

in retrospect, it really was. well, not even in retrospect -- i think i knew it at the time, too. i was re-reading old blog entries from this time last year a couple nights ago, and there was one with a survey in it where i'd answered some question about whether i was happy with my life at the moment with something like "more so than i've been in a long time." i mean, the post-graduation months of 2006 were treating me well: i'd had montreal, i'd had chicago, i was having a beautiful summer full of new friends and making money of my own and having a possible somewhere to belong. the day-to-day drudgery of it was a pain at times, yeah, but on a whole, it was a good place to be. there was a happy present day and lingering hopes on the horizon, which in combination made me content with the way things were for me -- drama-free, surprisingly, but still exciting.

funny how it was around that time when a sort-of ex of mine (one whom i'm still friends with) said he stopped reading this blog. "it just got boring," he later told me. "it was just about, like, your work and day-to-day life. it was so ordinary."

and that, i think, was the crux of it. ordinary doesn't suit me. neither does contentment.

so when things headed south, i didn't stop it, or him, or myself. i simply went with it, knowing what i was getting myself into, but willing to put it - my everyday happiness and sense of comfort - on the line, if only because i didn't want to get too comfortable with things. that's not how i can live my life, not for very long at least. because with too much comfort comes boredom, and i refuse to have boredom in my everyday life. i can't have that banality. i live my life to be a story worth telling, and to lead a normal life would be the death of me. anyone even remotely close to me knows that.

and i'm still glad to think that i never fooled myself about it, not really; our affair took the course towards implosion just as i knew it would. it wasn't as messy as it could have been, and the repercussions could have been far worse, but the end result was always what i knew it would eventually be -- even though i'd gone through a period thinking (hoping, wishing) otherwise.

and so, seeing no other logical ending to it all, i left. as i knew i was meant to.

in the wider scheme of things - because i always try to look at the big picture - it might have worked out for the best; after all, i never would have abandoned them to go on tour with a band. really, they meant too much to me, and i would have never had the heart to betray them like that. i couldn't have traded in my day-to-day family for a new temporary one, even if the new family was a group of rockstar brothers. but my second "family" was not one i felt accepted into, nor did i feel as close to, so i had very little qualms about tossing them behind in order to follow my dream. (and that, i think, was a small triumph, or at least a begrudged admittance that i'd finally heeded his warning to me: "no matter what, don't let yourself get caught up in this place.")

also, as i always keep in mind, it was a learning experience. like i state on my facebook profile, "i'm always willing to fuck up if it means i'll learn from it." and i knew what i was going into, i knew all bloody along, but i did it anyway. took the suicide plunge. knew i wasn't gonna get out easily, or unscathed. but i saw those options, and i weighed them, and i considered the consequences, and i made my choice, knowing that whatever happened, i would be responsible, and i would take it on myself.

whatever happened, at least i'd learn from it. at least i would be back living a life less ordinary.

and so, amazingly and as always, i don't regret. really, how could i? how could i ever regret an experience that, a year down the line, could make something so simple as walking down a street while listening to echo & the bunnymen's "the killing moon" make it nearly impossible to breathe? how could i regret anything that made me feel that deeply, that could resonate so far into the future that i could still feel the same hurt and melacholy and happiness?

how could i regret anything that, no matter how painful and sad, could make me feel that alive?

(and then, my mother: "sweetheart, you've always felt things so much harder than regular people do.")

i look at my back in the mirror and see that the scars are still there. faint, but they're there.

...in a year's time, in one evening's walk, i've come to realize it's not about you, not about any of you in particular; not about you with the blue eyes who told me i was beautiful, not about you with your tragedies and your gift of understanding, not about you with the killer grin who played guitar for me as i sang, not about you with the gorgeous cat's eyes who looked out for me and looked after me, not any one of you. because you're all the same, really -- the same beautiful, terrible, selfish, heartbreaking musician who can charm me, pull me out of my shell and then leave me behind, cracked and bleeding as you move on to the next victim, as willing as i had been. because what you promise is something a girl like me, and others like me, can never resist.

i'm going to be leaving a lot behind when i leave toronto forever in four weeks' time.

whether or not i can escape the ghosts is another story.

[ music | placebo, "protège moi" ]