Monthly Archives: February 2006

charlottetown ECMA weekend ’06

I’m at the Downtown Diner in Charlottetown. I take the stage at the Arts Guild in about two hours. It’s East Coast Music Awards weekend, I’m playing three shows altogether.

Last time I was in Charlottetown was two years ago this month. Bittersweet memories because that time it was a road trip with Claudette and Robin.

I just went for a little walk and visited the street corner at the corner of Grafton and University, across from the statue. That was where I set up my synth and drum machine and jammed out some sound in the middle of the afternoon. Claudette videotaped and Robin wandered around taking pictures. Robin was always pretty camera-shy but I’ve got a few frames of her on video.

The picture she took

A crazy-looking old guy came up to me while I was playing and said “You got more cords than enough” and I just saw that same guy on the street half an hour ago.

Arts Guild tonight should be good as long as I am good.

Deep breath, deep breath. Charlottetown.

Tomorrow I’m playing all-ages someplace, I don’t know where, then Saturday at Hunter’s Alehouse. I just walked by the place and I dropped in and the sound tech was piling up bins and speakers from the floor to the ceiling. I love sonic power. OK that’s it for now.


burnin up with fever

I was boiling a couple of eggs just now and I leaned in too close to the burner. I caught the front of my hoodie on fire. So I started dancing all around the kitchen.

“Whoa-ho-ho.” Bruce Springsteen! I’m on fire.

After a few seconds it dawned on me that my clothing was, in fact, in flames and the song changed to Fugazi: “We gotta put it out. We gotta put it out. We gotta put it out. MY HOODIE’S BURNING.”

I thought about dousing myself with some of the water from the pot on the stove. Yeah sure, I could just dump boiling water all over myself. That would ruin brunch. In the end I just blew on it a lot.

I blew out the flames leaving behind the acrid smell of molten synthetics along with a hole in the front pocket of my hoodie. I guess I won’t be carrying Skittles around in this pocket any more. I suspect I could probably still fit a boiled egg in there. Subsequent testing shows this to be correct.

I spent this weekend alone in Gaspereau Forks and I barely left the house. Wind is howling like a bastard. I watched a movie. After the movie was over, I watched the credits. Hundreds of people worked on this movie. It’s hard to believe.

It’s hard to believe there could be dozens of people standing around on the film set, and not one of them has the minerals to tap the director on the shoulder and say, “Umm really, that’s a bit too cheesy. In fact you probably shouldn’t even film this scene at all.” People on film sets get paid tremendous amounts of money by mortal standards, but apparently it’s not enough to care.

~ I’d like to offer a warm welcome to all the German visitors to I just want to make sure you know, there are no pictures of Hitler on this website.

I don’t normally post about search engine requests. Yes, we all know by now that the Internet is full of crazy crazy people. But I’ve been getting so much traffic from the German version of Google because of this post. It was one of those things that you write and it’s funny for five minutes then you forget about it, and the post itself doesn’t even have any pictures, just in the comments there’s a link to a picture of Ilsa She-Wolf Of The SS, and I’m not even hosting the image, it’s a link to a picture on, so it makes no sense, but anyway I’m closing comments on that post because I’m tired of deleting comments from people with email addresses like Thanks!

For a while there I was showing up on the front page of GIS for “Jim Morrison.” The killers awoke at dawn over that one. There must be some rule that says when you join the Doors fan club, your sense of humour has to be left scattered on dawn’s highway bleeding.

The thing is, nowhere did I say that Jim Morrison wasn’t a spiritual leader and a (cough) great poet. All I did was photoshop his head so his eyes were crossed. And I made his head slightly too big for his body. Big deal!

But it wound up with all these hippies in Paris throwing rocks at the Canadian embassy.

Jim morrison.

There’s a salmon on the lawn

There’s a salmon on the lawn

He just comes here to spawn, and

Then he will be gone

Salmon on the lawn
Girl you gotta love your trout

Girl you gotta love your trout

This is what it’s all about

so slap him in and pull him out

Gotta love your trout
All right, yeah

~ Speaking of evil, I am an editor over at Only don’t ask me anything about 3v1lv10g because I’m on dialup and I can’t keep up with half the shit that goes on over there.

Last but not least send me your favourite profiles from


“A mind once stretched by an idea, never again regains its original dimension ;)”

In My Own Words:
Welcome to Candyland. I will advise you that Ole Candy Man has the spontaneity of a child, coupled with high intensity, that enhances with age. The balance of my traits will be in direct relation to what you project and/or want to experience. To me life is a large sexual experience just begging to be explored. You are its director. Open minded and fueled by our chemistry, where will it take us?

Almost three weeks ago, I took a drive up Route 10 to visit my grandparents in New Zion. Along the way I shot a little video clip with my HP still camera. I came home the next day, doodled up some music in GarageBand and uploaded the video.

I never posted it because I was writing some text to go with it and it turned into a big mental block. I hardly ever write about my family, even though they’re a big part of why I moved back here. They don’t read this blog and I prefer it that way.

I want to get on with the business of having a website where I write all the time about silly things. So without further explanation here is the video I shot. You won’t understand it but you might be able to feel it.

In the meantime I’ve been writing every day over at