I haven’t been able to update for two months for reasons I’m not even going to go into. The winter solstice is basically new year’s eve for me and I welcome 2009 with open arms.

Right now I’m sitting in my kitchen in Gaspereau Forks, New Brunswick, Canada. Vickers the cat is curled up snoozing in the rocking chair; a nest of hot coals simmers in the wood stove. We’re due for 30cm of snow tonight. I’m prepared for the worst, I’m prepared to be completely snowed in, I’m prepared to be stranded in this old country house with no power or running water in which case I’ll still be able to partake of dialup Internet on my iBook with its shattered monitor screen so drop by and say hello because I’ll be smirking on the webcam until all the batteries on everything run out at once.

live webcam:

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Punk rock DJ night in Hell’s Kitchen, Halifax Pop Explosion 2008.

music – Crass “Do They Owe Us A Living?”

If perfection exists at all,

the intersection of art and mathematics.

“You’re not supposed to be in here, old man.”
“What did you just say to me?”
“I said you’re not supposed to be in here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
“No, old man. No idea.”
“Did you see that sign on the door… the one that says ‘Higgs Boson Particle Generator’?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m fuckin’ Higgs.”
“Whoa… OK, sorry sir. I didn’t know.”
“Get back to work, soldier.”
“Yes sir.”

“I see men as trees, walking.”
-Mark 8:24

Where do ghosts go in the daytime? Up the path. Through the woods to the sunlit clearing, strewn with abandoned appliances, rusted car parts, burnt-out bonfires.

Eavesdrop on the birds in a place of perfect camouflage. They fly right past my head. I have yet to decipher their language. But there’s no hurry.

In late afternoon the wind picks up. The orange glow of the sun slides along the side of the strip-mine mountain.

Over across the river the bushes part, a secret path, silent creatures. The forest animals look in my direction but cannot see anything.

Deer-shapes frozen in wood.

William Carlos Williams was a small dog. He was a cute little terrier who had a special typewriter that was equipped with extra-large keys so that he could type out poems using all four paws.

—
As the cat
Climbed over
The top of

The jamcloset
First the right
Forefoot

Carefully
then the hind
Stepped down

Into the pit of
The empty
Flowerpot
—

The original version of this poem went on for several pages of wrangling before it finally concluded with William Carlos Williams firing the helpless cat straight into the sun using a giant extra-terrestrial slingshot. Williams however was a master of economy and always attempted to strip a poem down to its barest minimum, to the pure essence of an image, which would then shine forth with the light of universal radiance.

“My appetite comes to me while eating.”
– Montaigne

I’ve haven’t been eating very well all week. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just don’t want to be in a kitchen. I’ve practically turned into a vegetarian.

Some friends invited me on a camping trip to Maine. I said no thanks. A lady invited me over to her place. I declined. Apparently I’m not getting enough of whatever vitamin it is that protects against lameness.

I once had a nutritionist friend who could tell you what your body was actually crying out for whenever you were craving certain foods. Last night I got a craving for a stir-fried onion. So I cut up an onion and fried it in the frying pan. I wonder what that means?

I could hear my father’s voice in my ears: “That’s not really all that much of a meal.” So I chopped up a jalapeno pepper and threw that in as well. Sweet baby jesus! Are you trying to kill me, dad?

Anyway, that was my supper.

I christened my new car today. No, not like that! Get your mind out of the gutter. I mean I had my first breakdown. One of my wheels was pointing straight ahead and the other wheel was pointing off to the right. This was one of those breakdowns where you’re blocking a bunch of traffic, so that was kind of stressful. 

It happened in Saint John right at the end of Rothesay Avenue at the overpass, you know when you’re heading out of town, and there’s the stop sign and then you have to scoot across the offramp? Well, I stepped on the gas, and my car wasn’t scooting. It did this slightly-forward sideways sliding thing.

A guy drove past in a truck and yelled, “Blown tie-rod end, buddy!” Thank you sir for that helpful diagnosis! I’m not even being sarcastic. 

In the rear-view mirror I saw a lineup of cars growing behind me. I swore a bunch and immediately turned to my grandmother in the  passenger’s seat to apologize. 

“It’s all right if it’s a prayer,” she said.

Finally I just jammed on the gas, and the car skidded and fishtailed across the ramp until I was able to pull it over by the roadside just before the train bridge. I got out and looked at the wheels and then I got back in the car and phoned CAA to come and rescue me and phoned my parents to come and rescue grandma.

CAA sent a tow truck and it towed me all the way across the street to the Superior garage on Rothesay Avenue. They were able to get it up on the hoist right away. The mechanics barely acknowledged my presence; they just got right to work. 

I was thinking “Why is he looking there under the hood? Isn’t the tie-rod end over by the wheel?” and then the mechanic said, “Your day just got a whole lot worse.”

I looked and had a glimpse of sheared-off metal and a loose bolt and a metal rod floating free, free, free.

But in the end it turned out to be not so bad. A small tab had broken off at the inner tie rod, and a bolt had come undone from the rack. All he really had to do was screw the bolt back in and reset the tabs.

If that bolt had come out two minutes later grandma and I would’ve been on Route 1 and we would’ve had, as the mechanic put it, “a pretty big problem.” I’m not sure what the effect would be of a tie rod popping loose and the front wheel suddenly twisting off to one side at 100km/h. I have this mental image of the whole car flipping end over end.

While the mechanic was working I went for a stroll around Glen Falls. This is the neighbourhood where Elsie Wayne got her start in politics, with the Glen Falls Flood Committee. I found a small bridge with some graffiti that said “GO TO HELL BICTH’S.” It pleased me greatly as “bicthes” is my favourite misspelling in the whole world right now. In fact I want to start a band called “The Bicthes.”

On the walk back I met an enormous old man on the sidewalk, wearing a red shirt and a cowboy hat and walking a teeny tiny grey poodle.

“Nice night for walking,” he said.

I said, “It sure is.”

I need about four more hours sleep, can we make this happen? Wednesday night in Gaspereau Forks we got smashed on 100-proof vodka. At three o’clock in the morning we were sitting around the barbecue cooking sausages under the light of the moon and planets. I decided that would be a good time to get out my minidisc and start recording the new podcast. The next morning I listened back to some of this recording and it was such a drunken trainwreck that I have decided to spare the world from having to hear it.

I bought a car yesterday and climbed in it and drove to Halifax. Good thing it works. My old car’s a green 1996 Chrysler Intrepid. My new car’s a green 1996 Chrysler Intrepid. It’s like I have a fleet now. The new one’s in much better shape and has half the kilometrage. I watched them put new brakes on it at the garage before I drove it away and if I die in this car because of brake failure, I’m going to be right pissed.

I need a name for my new car.

Tonight I perform at Gus’s Pub. I drove down to Halifax last night and pulled into some karaoke bar in the North End, a place where the scenesters mingle with the cougars and “The KKK Took My Baby Away” could just as easily be followed up with “Killing Me Softly.” I dropped off Vickers the Cat at Gerry’s apartment and Vickers ran right up the stairs and hopped in Gerry’s bathtub. That’s probably what I should’ve done. Then I went to the Marquee for Ruby Jean and the Thoughtful Bees and subsequent afterparty debauchery at the birthday boy’s house.

Yesterday I was in a canoe in the country and it was 35 degrees out and I didn’t want to leave, but now I’m here and I’m glad. No matter how exhausted I am the show tonight is going to be bonkers because machinery does not tire. Neither does the human brain. No nerve cells in the human brain. The brain cannot tire. That’s what I’m telling myself. I’m trying to make myself go outside and wander the city instead of lying here fooling around on stolen internet. Even in Halifax it manages to be hot as a pair of tits.

Swordfight Podcast #04. In which I float down the river in a canoe and fantasize about trading places with a Martian robot.

~ swordfight-podcast-04.mp3
[83MB, total running time 60:12]

tracklist:
Trenchmouth – Broadcasting From The Heart
Discharge – Ain’t No Feeble Bastard
Killing Joke – Follow The Leader
Max Webster – In The World Of Giants
Bob & Doug Mackenzie (feat. Geddy Lee) – Take Off
Agent Orange – Bloodstains
T.S.O.L. – Peace Thru Power
J. Geils Band – Insane, Insane Again
Shriekback – My Spine Is The Bass Line
The Nils – River Of Sadness
Octave One – Eniac

“Fear death by water.”
– TS Eliot, The Waste Land.

Swordfight Party Podcast #03. In which I show up at my high school reunion (briefly), share the stage with one of my musical idols (briefly), and dangle my feet in a giant beaver pond.

~ swordfight-podcast-03.mp3
80MB, total running time 58:18

tracklist:
Motorhead – Back At The Funny Farm
Descendents – Coolidge
Mission Of Burma – Secrets
Bad Religion – We’re Only Gonna Die
A/V – Atomic Wife (Give It Up Slowly)
Joy Division – Disorder
New Order – Ceremony
Scraping Foetus Off The Wheel – Lust For Death
Pailhead- Man Should Surrender
Theorem – Stasis

Soon to be a hit radio show on STEPHAN FM.

Swordfight Dot Org Parlour Party Podcast number two. In which I play records and talk a bunch of shit.

~ swordfight-podcast-02.mp3
[Right-click and “save as,” 86MB, total running time: 1 hour 2 minutes]

There are lots of awesome songs in this world, but there are relatively few songs that actually contain the word “awesome.” That’s why I love Muscles.

Tracklist, June 26 2008:
Magazine – Rhythm of Cruelty
John Cooper Clarke – Daily Express
Joy Division – At A Later Date
New Order – 5.8.6
Muscles – Sweaty
Goose – British Mode
Wire – Second Length (Our Swimmer)
The Wonder Stuff – Red Berry Joy Town
The Icicle Works – Birds Fly (Whisper To A Scream)
Ruts – Savage Circle
Verbal Assault – Trial
Uranus – Believer
The Fall – Theme From Sparta F.C.

Errata. I said I thought Goose might be from The Netherlands. The band is from Belgium. Also, Ruts changed their name to Ruts DC after the singer died of a heroin overdose. I don’t have Internet in the parlour so I can’t look this shit up… Thank you Wikipedia.

Oh, the guitarist for Ruts died of cancer last fall, RIP.

Here is the new Swordfight Dot Org Party Podcast. I just grabbed a stack of records and threw on some jams one after the other and talked about the records a bit and had a big dance party in the parlour of my house. I say “wicked” a lot on this, and with good reason.

 

~ swordfight-podcast-01.mp3 [78MB mp3, total running time 57:20]

 

Tracklist in case you’d like to know what you’re getting–

Bad Brains – She’s Calling You

Fugazi – In Defense Of Humans

Scream – Came Without Warning

Undertones – Get Over You

That Petrol Emotion – It’s A Good Thing

Dan Le Sac vs. Scroobius Pip – Thou Shalt Always Kill

Playdoe – It’s That Beat

B-52s – 52 Girls

The Godfathers – If I Only Had Time

Ramones – Don’t Come Close

For Against – It’s A Lie

The Fall – I Feel Voxish

Johnny Horton – Lover’s Rock

Aesop Rock – None Shall Pass.

 

Enjoy, my good friends, enjoy.