Route 1, New Brunswick, on our way to Saint John.

Down below the highway, just before the Hampton exit, there’s a junkyard with a big pile of discarded appliances fluorishing alongside an even bigger pile of wrecked cars. The sight of so many cars piled up on top of each other seems to suggest they were pushed one-by-one off the side of the overpass.

Wrecked cars in free-fall, airborne for a few moments, silhouetted against the sunset as they fall end-over-end onto the burial mound.

I was angry during our Paragon set for reasons I won’t even revisit. A musical set is an emotional eye-blink, and my mood tends to freeze into whatever emotional state I happen to be in when we drop the first chord.

Whenever I get pissed off I take it out on my gear and on myself. As I plugged in my patch cords I could feel the blood heating up in my arteries. The show was a whirlwind and by the end of the set I was bleeding from my fingers and from my forehead, and my forearm was covered with bruises, and it felt like something was fucked up in my wrist.

I headbutted a microphone and it fell forward and I followed it down onto the dancefloor, lying on my side like a wounded primordial snail, abusing my instrument and shouting backing vocals into the horizontal mic.

Afterwards I craved sedation but all Pinky had for cough syrup in his apartment was a couple swigs of alcohol-free Buckley’s.

Between Moncton and Salisbury the burnt-out shell of a car rests in the culvert beside the highway. It’s been there since January; no one seems to have made any attempt to remove it.

Back in the winter I came upon this wreckage while it was still smoking, presumably only a few hours after the accident happened. There was no one left at the scene by the time I arrived. Tire tracks in the roadside grass were the only evidence of the efforts of the rescue crew.

Sometimes when I’m making the trip alone I’ll pull over at this spot.

I walk around the ruined car, the wreck left on display as an analogy for the future destruction of my own vehicle.

The light changes at the corner of North and Agricola. A woman steps off the curb in the wrong direction before catching herself. She turns to me and laughs and says, “I almost committed suicide.”

I squint at a piece of faded graffiti on the sidewalk. A spraypainted stencil of red and yellow polygons resolves itself into the words: “Burn It Down.”

Two girls walked into my house and said “Your place smells like bacon.”
I said “No, that’s just my cologne.”

—
hipster joker–america’s most wanted

yeah i played three shows last night. worked some shit out. sweated it out.
the republic of rocknroll lives on a knife’s edge.

We’re about to go get the ferry for East Coast Music Awards 2009 in Corner Brook, Newfoundland. These days I’m playing guitar for a rock band called Sleepless Nights. We’re doing three shows and A\V is also playing. This is going to be the craziest party weekend of the winter and I will tell you I’m incredibly excited.

In fact I feel pretty shitty. It’s Robin’s birthday today. She would’ve been 31. If you’re in Saint John go down to Fernhill for me, clean the snow off her grave.

I also have a raging cold. My throat is raw and it feels like someone is trying to scoop out my eyeballs with a spoon.

But I am a professional party technician and at the count of four what is going on inside my head does not matter.

~ Uncle Philly’s French Onion Soup!

OK, get ready people because this is the real deal.

1. Cut up a couple onions and fry them in the frying pan.

2. Make some beef-flavoured Mr. Noodles.

3. Make two pieces of toast. Cut the toast into 32 pieces, using exactly six cuts with a knife.

4. Put the onions and the 32 croutons into the Mr. Noodles.

5. Grate some cheddar cheese on top.

Eat the french onion soup straight out of the pot. No man, it’s cool. That’s how you’re supposed to do it.

Dear Diary. On the weekend I had a party here at the beautiful Clark estate, my hermit home in the middle of the woods.

The Saturday night sky was bright with the glow of the perigee moon, the wolf moon, the brightest full moon of the year.

A bunch of us wound up getting pretty hammered. We went out to the backyard to practise shooting at pop cans. It was minus 25 celsius but fortunately I was so blitzed I could hardly feel my face anyway.

I still managed to smoke a few pop cans. I think most of us did. Intoxication didn’t really seem to affect anyone’s aiming ability. Conclusion: shooting a rifle is not like driving a car.

Then we all slid down the snowy bank to the frozen river that runs through my back yard: the mighty Salmon River that curves from Grand Lake all the way up to the Miramichi. The girls laid down on the ice under the moonlight, right there on the snowmobile tracks, the moon throwing sharp shadows across the snow. It reminded me of something out of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

We see how the world is going. You don’t want to wait until the food has run out to start learning how to shoot.

Just thought I’d share a couple recipes with you, to keep you warm on these cold winter nights.

~ Uncle Philly’s Real Chicken Soup!

1. Cook a chicken breast.

2. Cook some chicken-flavoured Mr. Noodles.

3. Cut up the chicken and put it in the noodles.

4. Enjoy!

 

~ Uncle Philly’s Steak And Noodle Surprise!

1. Cook a steak.

2. Cook some beef-flavoured Mr. Noodles. Pour out the broth.

3. Put the noodles on top of the steak.

4. Enjoy!

I’m sitting in the restaurant at the Salisbury Big Stop. My car’s out in the parking lot with a seized water pump. I’m going to be sitting here until the garage opens at 8am Saturday morning.

It is now 10:30pm Friday night.

So how was your Xmas? Did you get anything good? I got viral gastroenteritis. I had a pretty shitty week. You might say. 

They should call it “gastro-exit-itis.” On Friday I had to DJ a party… my stomach said “It’s not a good idea to leave the house.” I went out anyway and rocked that party. On Saturday I had an A/V show. My stomach said “You really should stay home.” I went out anyway. I had to run to the can six times during the band before me. Then I got up and rocked the whole house.

On Sunday I was invited to a birthday party. My stomach said, “You know, it’s REALLY REALLY not a good idea to leave the house.” And it was right!

My brother got me a Laserhawk BB Air Rifle. It’s pretty awesome. The first thing I did when I got home was shoot out all the light bulbs in the house. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do with a BB gun? Then I took out an upstairs window. Guess I got a little carried away. This window had frost on the inside… how much good is it at being a window? It’s not like it’s keeping the cold out much, with frost all over the INSIDE of the window. So I aimed and fired. I took out a couple upstairs windows actually. I hardly ever go upstairs in the winter, who cares.

Then I went outside in search of moving targets. The scope on this thing is so cool. I used to think shooting was some kind of crazy esoteric skill. But you can look through the scope at something, and pull the trigger and hit it. Just like that! Philip Clark, Scout Sniper. 

A squirrel was giving me a dirty look from across the driveway. So I sighted him up and blasted him. He was quick but my bullet is quicker, or BB or whatever. I shot him right in the mouth and knocked one of his teeth out. Next time I see that squirrel he’ll be hissing at me through a mouthful of gold teeth.

I got bored with squirrels so I took a drive up the Fire Road and hung out at the overpass over the Trans Canada. I shot at some trucks, but only at the roofs of the trucks. Safety first! Except when an RCMP car came tooling up the highway. Couldn’t resist. I shot him right in the windshield. The car went off the road but I wasn’t sticking around to see what happened. I got the hell out of there.

Did I mention my brother also got me a ski mask for Xmas? Great gift combination. I did pretty good for presents this year.

I suppose you think it’s funny, a grown man in a ski mask, running around shooting at shit with an air rifle. Yeah? OK then. We’ll see who’s laughing when there’s red mist floating out the back of your dome-piece.