his picture is from the neck up.
your new guidebook.
"I mean it is fabulous..."
"I mean it is fabulous..."
Your research on this subject has left me speechless.
- Esteban from Texas
L tower.
shamazing. more buildings. bigger boards with bigger nails! fuck you, we're building to the moon. did you hear me? the moon.
oh yes...
there may or may not be a new year's/housewarming party in the works- with live electronic tunez...
Labels: stay tuned
one out of a hundred.
though the jokes are funny, the dewey cox story just comes across as majorly tacky.
johnny cash is sacred ground. even more so than jesus, the pope, or susan b. anthony.
johnny cash is sacred ground. even more so than jesus, the pope, or susan b. anthony.
Labels: too soon if ever
collective unconscious.
in regards to the weird coincidences, they happen all the time. i don't think i'm the only one who notices that one day you'll be talking about something obscure, and the next, when you've forgotten that conversation, that same obscure reference comes up in conversation specifically. now, i don't know what's going on, if anything, but it is fun investigating and researching just to see what everyone else is thinking.
there's this: CLICKY
which means that context would mean nothing should we or if we have a collective mind. or maybe we all read similar articles and blogs and watch similar youtube videos on similar subjects (see: most popular hits, email forwards, etc.) and make the same connections and jumps in our mind. it's kind of like playing a game of super mario 3, i don't know what some kid in japan is thinking, but chances are he's figured the most effective way to beat giant land using the least amount of continues, and chances are it's the same way i figured. everything is being streamlined these days: advertisements, television (cops shows, bubble headed teen shows, reality TV, the list goes on ad infinitum), music, everything. so is it really a hive mind or just that all of our brains are subjected to a lot of the same stimuli, thus molding our thought processes to match?
but those coincidences, they are strange...
there's this: CLICKY
which means that context would mean nothing should we or if we have a collective mind. or maybe we all read similar articles and blogs and watch similar youtube videos on similar subjects (see: most popular hits, email forwards, etc.) and make the same connections and jumps in our mind. it's kind of like playing a game of super mario 3, i don't know what some kid in japan is thinking, but chances are he's figured the most effective way to beat giant land using the least amount of continues, and chances are it's the same way i figured. everything is being streamlined these days: advertisements, television (cops shows, bubble headed teen shows, reality TV, the list goes on ad infinitum), music, everything. so is it really a hive mind or just that all of our brains are subjected to a lot of the same stimuli, thus molding our thought processes to match?
but those coincidences, they are strange...
Labels: we are the borg
it's true.
there were many weird coincidences again tonight, unfortunately i don't remember any of them at the present time.
good night, moon!
good night, moon!
truth is realized, not told.
Labels: still funny
oddly enough...
i'm sitting here in my green room eating dinner. a tasty meal comprised of fillet of some fish i got a bag of for $5, and homemade rosemary potato wedges. the combination of lemon peppery fish and rosemary is fantastic- stumbled upon, my friends, stumbled upon (the combo, not the ingredients). i originally spelled potato with an "e" on the end, as was my custom when i was a kid, and still to this day the vowel somehow makes its way onto the end of that word before i even realize. my mom used to say something parent-like in regards to pedal anatomy.
speaking of the parents, i get to see them this weekend, at least on friday, before making my way westerly to london. also the stinkwad and his fuzzy, cute self will most likely find a way to pee on my leg as if to say, "i missed you. i love you." thank god humans aren't that way inclined. not that there's anything wrong with that.
i was doing the dishes while dinner cooked and remembered this stupid little thing i'd do when i was a kid. whenever we'd visit my aunt who didn't have a dishwasher, i'd either volunteer or be volunteered to do dishes. because i loathe washing dishes, i used to get it over with as quickly as possible and only wash the technically dirty side of the dish. this was a two tier, long-term plan, of course because once a dish (or several) was found with grease still on there, i'd never be asked to do dishes again. as is custom in my family, my bullshit lasted about five minutes and mom cut through it like metamucil with, "dishes have two sides. i'll come inspect them when you're done." drats! foiled again.
tune in tomorrow when i will tell you about the times i ignored the underside of my hair* in favour of a smooth exterior thus ending my long-haired career for many years thereafter.
*rats nest
"All train compartments smell vaguely of shit. It gets so you don't mind it. That's the worst thing that I can confess. You know how long it took me to get there? A long time. When you die you're going to regret the things you don't do. You think you're queer? I'm going to tell you something: we're all queer. You think you're a thief? So what? You get befuddled by a middle-class morality? Get shut of it. Shut it out. You cheat on your wife? You did it, live with it. You fuck little girls, so be it. There's an absolute morality? Maybe. And then what? If you think there is, go ahead, be that thing. Bad people go to hell? I don't think so. If you think that, act that way. A hell exists on earth? Yes. I won't live in it. That's me.
...You ever take a dump made you feel like you'd just slept for twelve hours?"
-ricky roma. glengarry glen ross.
...You ever take a dump made you feel like you'd just slept for twelve hours?"
-ricky roma. glengarry glen ross.
helping self by leaving self behind.
"Develop an interest in life as you see it; the people, things, literature, music-the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself."
"...she stood it by standing knee-deep in the flow of life and paying close attention."
"...she stood it by standing knee-deep in the flow of life and paying close attention."
daze.
as per usual, sunday leaves me contemplating. what's the score, what's next?
yesterday i started working on my website, started doing a lot of things i should have been for a while, but suppose i just wasn't ready to do. like maybe getting something done, start a ball rolling in the direction that seems the most accurate (at least for now). practice guitar, edit photos, plan for something other than nothing.
then i left home and mosied on over to my bro's place and to my surprise i received a tasty swiss chalet dinner. when i walked in the door, he came over to give me a hug, with a $20 bill in his hand and says, "Ohhh, hello, you're not chicken." brothers, my favourite. so we dined and beered and smoked and watched the rest of the incredibles, well kind of... mostly we talked over the TV which is always more interesting to me. unless the leafs are playing, then shut up! heh.
after there i waited for what seemed like ever for the bathurst streetcar and found myself at a party across town. avec a single vodka/pomegranate can of stuff in my bag (classy), i arrived and immediately felt awkward. it was going to be that kind of night... standing in the living room looking around like, "heyyy, so, ahhh... how 'bout them argos, eh?" so i walked around and just stood by the people i sorta knew, etc. etc. i was awkward aimoo, bringer of a conversational black hole. here is why this happens: my thought patterns are erratic. i can't carry on a "hihowareya" type deal for too long before i get bored, or confuse the other person with completely unrelated banter. only pieces of my internal commentary make it out, even though it's sheer brilliance inside. ;)
feeling strange in a strange place i went to check my phone and actually see what lisa was up to, but sjm came in right then so i stayed 'cause i haven't seen him in a long time, and he's someone i can relate to. hkd was clearly distracted and exhausted so...
we split, BSed while walking to his car and a ride home and some flight of the conchords then liser and bogdan came home then bed and here i sit with a coffee writing a very play-by-play blog entry about a night that only two of my (hopefully?) readers experienced. my mind is elsewhere... time for some more web work... and more coffee before it gets cold... among other things.
on friday i took a 2.5 hour lunch break with a friend and drank almost a whole pitcher. i definitely would not be a functional alcoholic, i don't know how anyone could. but it was a fun adventure with one of my dearest, closest, most soul-residing friends. i love him to bits.
anyway, it really is too bad you can't smell my coffee breath, it's grade-three-teacher-tastic.
yesterday i started working on my website, started doing a lot of things i should have been for a while, but suppose i just wasn't ready to do. like maybe getting something done, start a ball rolling in the direction that seems the most accurate (at least for now). practice guitar, edit photos, plan for something other than nothing.
then i left home and mosied on over to my bro's place and to my surprise i received a tasty swiss chalet dinner. when i walked in the door, he came over to give me a hug, with a $20 bill in his hand and says, "Ohhh, hello, you're not chicken." brothers, my favourite. so we dined and beered and smoked and watched the rest of the incredibles, well kind of... mostly we talked over the TV which is always more interesting to me. unless the leafs are playing, then shut up! heh.
after there i waited for what seemed like ever for the bathurst streetcar and found myself at a party across town. avec a single vodka/pomegranate can of stuff in my bag (classy), i arrived and immediately felt awkward. it was going to be that kind of night... standing in the living room looking around like, "heyyy, so, ahhh... how 'bout them argos, eh?" so i walked around and just stood by the people i sorta knew, etc. etc. i was awkward aimoo, bringer of a conversational black hole. here is why this happens: my thought patterns are erratic. i can't carry on a "hihowareya" type deal for too long before i get bored, or confuse the other person with completely unrelated banter. only pieces of my internal commentary make it out, even though it's sheer brilliance inside. ;)
feeling strange in a strange place i went to check my phone and actually see what lisa was up to, but sjm came in right then so i stayed 'cause i haven't seen him in a long time, and he's someone i can relate to. hkd was clearly distracted and exhausted so...
we split, BSed while walking to his car and a ride home and some flight of the conchords then liser and bogdan came home then bed and here i sit with a coffee writing a very play-by-play blog entry about a night that only two of my (hopefully?) readers experienced. my mind is elsewhere... time for some more web work... and more coffee before it gets cold... among other things.
on friday i took a 2.5 hour lunch break with a friend and drank almost a whole pitcher. i definitely would not be a functional alcoholic, i don't know how anyone could. but it was a fun adventure with one of my dearest, closest, most soul-residing friends. i love him to bits.
anyway, it really is too bad you can't smell my coffee breath, it's grade-three-teacher-tastic.
me me mememeeee!
this is my "artist's bio" for a show to which i submitted some photos:
i am aimee
from toronto
born in brampton
not my mom, though
angles come
from inside my brain
picturing reality
in different ways
i take photos
of the every day
and put them up
all in your face
if you wish
to buy my work
email me whenever
especially at work
i am aimee
from toronto
born in brampton
not my mom, though
angles come
from inside my brain
picturing reality
in different ways
i take photos
of the every day
and put them up
all in your face
if you wish
to buy my work
email me whenever
especially at work
revisited
Labels: hate bullshit bios, raymi inspired purposely bad poetry
to my american visitors:
can i have a 3rd?
fool me thrice, shame on me?
why typewriters became obsolete.
get'em while they're hot...
feminism bibs for all your drool-collecting/political activism needs. also available in adult sizes.
oh jes?
Agricultural Noah's Ark.
But isn't adapting to survive with what is available a key part of "survival of the species"? Seems like a good idea, and I suppose it won't hurt, but that's a lot of money to throw at nature who only understands death and renewal.
Interesting...
But isn't adapting to survive with what is available a key part of "survival of the species"? Seems like a good idea, and I suppose it won't hurt, but that's a lot of money to throw at nature who only understands death and renewal.
Interesting...
Patterns and routines are the ruling forces of the morning traveller. Wake up at that time, in the shower by this time, out the door at least by this time so I can get to point B at this time and transfer on to point C by that time. Everything becomes ultimate routine because who wants to think before noon, really? Nobody, I tell ya whut.
The most prominent part of my morning pattern/routine is where I stand to get prime subway seating. I know exactly where the train will stop so that a certain door will be in front of me, and that door leads directly to the Best Seat-- on the subway car: facing forward, a double-seat that nobody ever wants to occupy (let's rub legs for half an hour YAY), and leg room. I always go for this seat, but if all else fails, the Aimoo2000 initiates Plan B and goes for closest/most available seating (Plan B is tentatively called "Whatever I can get").
This type of neenerneet computation is pretty much how I (secretly) run my whole life. Observation, calculation, averages, and estimation are the key processes that govern my every move... probably why I find most other people entirely frustrating: "what do you mean you lost your keys?!"
Paying attention has its merits and demerits (duh). It's another one of those excess vs. moderation type dealies whereby too much will make you ill, and too little will get you run over by some late businesswoman in bile-coloured pumps. But I stick to my theory that it is better to be a little uneasy at most times than than to be impaled by a stiletto...
But it's not always the physical that suffers, the psychological well being of the collective us depends on our paying attention to the needs of ourselves and of others. Of course, it's easy to get caught up in others, so that balance can prove difficult...
I am reading a book called Codependent No More which addresses a lot of the issues I struggle with, daily. Somehow I wonder, though, if you can effectively empathize with someone unless you really feel it? If you're detached, do your words and concerns lose meaning? Am I making classic-case excuses? I know I have made myself ill, at certain points in life, worrying about others and their intentions- and I know that is not healthy. Though with age it seems to be waning a bit, I don't ever wish that to be completely replaced with apathy.
Processes and computations I can handle. Clear situations with tangible solutions are a piece of cake, no matter the subject. But it's The Other that is difficult because I think and live a lot in extremes, the either/or syndrome... applicable to robots but not to humans.
The most prominent part of my morning pattern/routine is where I stand to get prime subway seating. I know exactly where the train will stop so that a certain door will be in front of me, and that door leads directly to the Best Seat-- on the subway car: facing forward, a double-seat that nobody ever wants to occupy (let's rub legs for half an hour YAY), and leg room. I always go for this seat, but if all else fails, the Aimoo2000 initiates Plan B and goes for closest/most available seating (Plan B is tentatively called "Whatever I can get").
This type of neenerneet computation is pretty much how I (secretly) run my whole life. Observation, calculation, averages, and estimation are the key processes that govern my every move... probably why I find most other people entirely frustrating: "what do you mean you lost your keys?!"
Paying attention has its merits and demerits (duh). It's another one of those excess vs. moderation type dealies whereby too much will make you ill, and too little will get you run over by some late businesswoman in bile-coloured pumps. But I stick to my theory that it is better to be a little uneasy at most times than than to be impaled by a stiletto...
But it's not always the physical that suffers, the psychological well being of the collective us depends on our paying attention to the needs of ourselves and of others. Of course, it's easy to get caught up in others, so that balance can prove difficult...
I am reading a book called Codependent No More which addresses a lot of the issues I struggle with, daily. Somehow I wonder, though, if you can effectively empathize with someone unless you really feel it? If you're detached, do your words and concerns lose meaning? Am I making classic-case excuses? I know I have made myself ill, at certain points in life, worrying about others and their intentions- and I know that is not healthy. Though with age it seems to be waning a bit, I don't ever wish that to be completely replaced with apathy.
Processes and computations I can handle. Clear situations with tangible solutions are a piece of cake, no matter the subject. But it's The Other that is difficult because I think and live a lot in extremes, the either/or syndrome... applicable to robots but not to humans.
wknd.
why go out and enjoy life for The Last Time™ if you can hole up in a cave instead?
let me take you to... (wah wah wah)... funkytowwwwwwwwn!
----
was reminded of this story today. i forgot how good it was...
let me take you to... (wah wah wah)... funkytowwwwwwwwn!
----
was reminded of this story today. i forgot how good it was...
there are days and there are days.
i tell ya whut.
'sploded.
the yellow & black
across your face
the do not pass
across your face
the do not pass
and caution tape
"peace for now" is an odd saying because really it implies "chaos later", and that isn't a very nice thing to sign off with.
should i start ending all emails with that?
should i start ending all emails with that?
on the subway tv.
on the way home: rookie apologizes over embarrassing internet photos
ok, so he was forced to apologize for something he was actually proud of (naked pics on facebook don't upload themselves) to appease the morals of the people who might get offended by such a thing as nu-di-ty:
the rest of us just don't give a shit. marketing is the only reason why nudity has any correlation to a player's ability to be 'successful'- and we're all to blame, no? they really just study what we want, all safely tucked away in our little niches and cubes on the segmentation chart andzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzi laughed the entire time. (pseudo) shredding is hilarious to listen to and to watch.
there were skeletons in that closet, AND THEY WERE NAKED!
----
i'm sorry for all the bad things i ever said to you... i am and i'm not, here we are, right? i know why we never share deepest of thoughts anymore, i don't need to ask... i know why things have changed.
i wish distance betwixt us was impossible, but as is life, it is inevitable- as it has to be. hard, yes, but most things are... that matter.
i don't even remember why i love people... i just do. a curse & a blessing.
cheers to being alive.
gnight.
doo doo doo-doo-doo-doo (you know, the clown song)
there are three half glasses of water on my desk- two of which probably taste more like dust than water, at this point. a plastic cup, a mug from yesterday's coffee (or was it saturday?), and a giant bottle of ibuprofen. o'brother, where art thou sits a bit underneath a rolled up poster from the aesma daeva concert i went to see a couple weeks ago. tangents, lots of them... on this desk.
a printed out chord sheet for "little conversations" has a number scribbled on the bottom: the guy who bought my practice amp. camera plugged in, memories of last night's upload and reload... napkins, pictures, a change jar, biore nose strips, some visine (gets the red out) and a miniature, miniature dachshund which will hang from our christmas tree. behind him is the haida carving cast i bought in 2002 in wawa, ontario and it stares at a pack of matches from java bob's, circa 2002 (half used). old no. 7's shot awaits me beyond door number three, with a runner up prize of a mini purple stapler.
there's a compass up above my monitor, that fucking thing is always pointing. how rude.
it's a wonder i manage to focus on anything for longer than five minutes.
Labels: aimoos playland
wow.
As I sit here in the grey office with a bright red light shining from my forehead, I can hear (it's taking me a second to remember, here... fuck...) ROB THOMAS on the radio wailing away about whoever or whatever done him wrong. Or right. Or roundabout. but who the fuck cares?
This week has been full of good sleep, lots of sweet sweet much-missed sleep and my brain is doing a couple jumping jacks right this second. I think by the end of last week there was the equivalent of a goat in a hula skirt playing a banjo in my head... plucka-plucka-plucka-wheeeeeeeze.
Right! So earlier this week I met up with a girl who is looking to start up a magazine. i won't reveal the idea because that would be silly, but I assure you it's good. Since the other project sort of fell off the plate (by no fault of my own, for once), I decided to seek out new creative ventures. Thank you craigslist, oh neverending source of amusement, bewilderement, annoyance, and profit. Craigslist is life. We met for a quick coffee and went over the ideas- basically it will be a collective and she will be in contact with us next week about progressing... more to come, I hope.
As for myself, Lisa and I are going to play a show together at some point in the new year. Jamuary? The month for jam? Maybe... but I assure you I am both excited and scared- I have never ever ever played guitar for anyone except my parents and my dog, so the nerves are starting already. Don't think about it- stay in the moment- keep pace with the now- plan and prepare day by day. Don't fret. No wait, do fret! Fret lots and fret well!
Eratic thoughts on a good friday free of religious insinuations, despair, thoughts of a negative nature and including many many things of which we cannot speak.
up in flames, hanging onto something that's passed.
burnt beyond recognition, bridges are good that way... at least when it comes to matters of the heart. go out in a blaze and there's no walking back in. oddly enough, that is comforting if even the flesh is still a bit raw. yeah, i dig that. skin heals, ongoing acts of lunacy do not allow for such.
time to allow for a ray of sunshine!
Labels: ten kudos
insanity peppers.
the stomach grumbles and bubbles and boils: not enough yogurt in the world to cover up this mistake. primo soup, on sale- $1.29. the first can was okay, but this can just makes me feel ill... like teabagging a bull... for hours...
not enough yogurt in the bottle. the fire seemed out, but it's returned now bubbling testicular juices up through my attempt at antacid-by-nature.
more yogurt?
DO NOT BUY BEEF & BARLEY SOUP BY PRIMO.
hugs,
A.
i don't need a hero.
Steps in the right direction can be misleading because "right" is subjective... you won't know until you take them whether or not they are right. So we'll just say that taking steps in any direction is a good thing, okay? Okay.
Like being on a week-long high. A bittersweet happiness that allows for the acceptance of things the way they are- can finally move on, can walk towards self. No manic highs, but just happy enough to think that perhaps your doctor's appointment isn't necessary. Everything's under control, right? Everything is going fine. Things are progressing in... a direction.
Then maybe you find yourself down a well by 6PM on a Monday and Tuesday reflects Monday's poor choices. Not all poor for the company was truer than true, but poor for self. Tuesday, my friends, will involve a lot of chow mein... as much I can assure you. Chow mein and contemplation and running on empty. The only thing keeping me from a lifetime of running is what I owe. Without that, I'd call nowhere home... so should I be thankful for or sad about my debt?
As it always has been and ever will be, Amen.
half a bagel.
the healthy alternative to a whole bagel- fuck that. all or nothing, baby.
the streetcar drive said hello lucky me, i get to drive you home tonight, too. i didn't notice it was the same guy, but he noticed- i guess if i was him i'd notice, too. he asked if i had a good night, and i said i did, then i told him i saw my friend's band and he was wondering if i'd gone alone. so i said i did. no big deal. i go to shows alone, it's not against the rules, is it? am i fucking up again? i was never that good at following rules anyway.
on the way to the show i tripped and spilled. phone flying, smokes flying, hands scraped and knees... intact. i assume the knees will hurt tomorrow and i will wonder what the hell, then remember and smirk to myself. some stranger on the subway will undoubtedly wonder what the smirk is for (i would if i were them, facial expression is not permitted on the ttc when commuting)... and i will ignore them as i always do.
my boss said that my earphones were big and would sufficiently drown out the world. i told him that was the point.
hamilton, ahoy.
the streetcar drive said hello lucky me, i get to drive you home tonight, too. i didn't notice it was the same guy, but he noticed- i guess if i was him i'd notice, too. he asked if i had a good night, and i said i did, then i told him i saw my friend's band and he was wondering if i'd gone alone. so i said i did. no big deal. i go to shows alone, it's not against the rules, is it? am i fucking up again? i was never that good at following rules anyway.
on the way to the show i tripped and spilled. phone flying, smokes flying, hands scraped and knees... intact. i assume the knees will hurt tomorrow and i will wonder what the hell, then remember and smirk to myself. some stranger on the subway will undoubtedly wonder what the smirk is for (i would if i were them, facial expression is not permitted on the ttc when commuting)... and i will ignore them as i always do.
my boss said that my earphones were big and would sufficiently drown out the world. i told him that was the point.
hamilton, ahoy.
i just made the tastiest montreal roast beef, new zealand cheddar, garlic powder, black pepper, and mustard sandwich-on-a-bagel ever. high five, me!
Well, my friends, soup season is upon us...and how. I already worked my way through one delicious bowl of pea soup- the one and only Habitant. Today I anticipate sexy results. The cold wind blows and the thermometers say fifteen but it feels like zero, sweaters come out (or if you haven't dug them out of storage yet, you wear the one or two you kept out for those "in case" nights in summer that never really occur.
Don't you hate bringing things with you that you don't end up using? Hindisght is 20/20, but of course, because whatever it is that would have happened already did. Why do we insist on saying useless shit? Here's a list of useless things I say on a regular basis because sometimes, you just want to talk:
-It's gotta be somewhere: growing up in Alliston, my mom worked with a woman who would say this all the time. Of course it is somewhere- the concept of "nowhere" only describes the absence of a place, "nowhere" is not on the map, and I assure you your keys did not get swallowed by the time-space continuum.
That's all I can think of for now, it's early and this blog is taking a swooping dive into nowhere. A blog about nothing, do you think NBC will buy it?
Living downtown slowly wears on your friendliness and builds it at the same time. People everywhere, things everywhere, things to do, places to go, money to be burned, people's heels to step on. Ever walk behind someone who was unsure of where they were going? Welcome to Toronto. Nobody knows, we're all horses either going home or making our way home via some place else, and during that time some feet get trampled.
This morning on the subway some woman was walking excruciatingly slow, progressively slower, and I caught her heel by accident. She swung around astonished, so I said sorry, but come on! Is it my fault that the predictability of your foot placement was at an all-time low? Maybe, but somehow I think it's at least a 50/50 split for blame. When walking or actually doing anything, I always try to predict the next move and generally it is correct, but every now and then you fuck up and break a glass- your reflexes anticipated a different flight path and worlds collide. You say sorry for things that may not be your fault, but don't want to be an asshole if their interpretation of events is different from your own. I am a pinball, the city my machine.
Love, my friends, is a fucked up thing and sometimes I wonder why everyone is convinced that there must be someone out there for them- not in a depressed way, but seriously... should there be? Must there be? Is it so hard to do the things that make you happy with the absence of someone special? And why one, why not several? Love is a good thing, of course- it motivates, it helps you feel good and shit, but why the obsession with the number one? One God, one soul mate, one chance, once in a lifetime, one career path that's right for you, one place to live for life, one destination. We're living the movies or the movies are dictating our lives? A bit of both, obviously, we are the art and the art is us and we're all locked into this survival trip, now. Fending off cold winds with tightly woven fabrics hoping that when we arrive at our destination it's warm and cozy- a lifetime by the fire.
Nowhere to go but somewhere.
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