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concert

MERRY CHRIST(ine esti)MAS: 2015 Year In Review

The essence of drama is conflict. I had a lot of both in the past few years, but 2015 was oddly light and serene. I hustled my ass off, pulled every string, worked and LIVED, and received very little flack from the universe. 2015 was THE YEAR.

I started the year in New York City where I was housesitting. On a chance invite from a friend, I attended a Moth Storytelling event. I had been listening to the Moth podcast for years, and this was a story-slam event, meaning I could put my name in a hat and possibly be called up on stage. I threw my hat in the ring, decided what I would say while I was waiting in line to get into the venue, and wouldn’t you know it….

SPOKEN WORD

Live Storytelling and Spoken Word means a lot to me and I continued to do it back home in Toronto at Raconteurs:

Storytelling is an extension of writing to me. It feeds my need to tell stories and also to be a ham. I also discovered that working out ideas on stage proved excellent for cultivating written story ideas. 2015 was also the year of–

Chris Writes All The Things

Editors this year were like, “Hey Chris, do you want to publish stuff? HERE, HAVE ALL THE PUBLICATIONS YOU LIKE.”

It was like payback for many years of only publishing maybe one or two pieces every 6 months.

Of course, this wasn’t by fluke. I busted my ass, I submitted and submitted and submitted, and got rejection after rejection, but my acceptance rate kind of skyrocketed this year. I actually found myself in the odd position SEVERAL TIMES this year where I had to reject one publication because another had already bought my piece. I was selling pieces so quick, in some instances, I had to turn people down! I ALMOST sent them the lame boilerplate rejections they had sent me for years, but nahhhhhhh.

SELLING STORIES

 

The first piece I sold this year was actually an academic essay which I sold to Palaver Journal based out of a southern University. I finished my Masters Degree ten years ago, but I can still flex my chops when I need to.

Then I sold my first piece to VICE, which was really exciting because I had been reading them since 1998 and am a huge fan, so it was great to see my pieces go across the VICE network and do really well.


vicecanada

Then I sold them another piece
vicesecond1

And then another
vicethird

And then a bajillion more…
fhritpheader

I found out one of my short stories made the long-list for the prestigious CBC Canada Writes Creative Nonfiction Prize, and they profiled me on the CBC website!
IMG_7218 cbc canada writes

Then I sold a short story to GRAIN when they wanted to buy another story of mine, but I had to turn them down because another journal had already bought it, so they asked for anything else I had, and snapped up this piece right away!
grain1

And then I cold-pitched METRO News Canada and they printed my piece in the centrefold:
metro

And then EVENT published one of my Nonfiction stories in this issue:
event

My bio is a BOSS-ASS BITCH
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Then I sold a travel writing piece to VERGE Magazine:
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And just a couple weeks ago, another one of my serious essays about sexual harassment and the experience of reporting it to the police was published by my old friends at AufBau:

And this isn’t even all of my publications! Just a cross-section! I also sold three more stories whose publication dates are imminent, like TOUTE SUITE, dropping in a few weeks soon! So expect to read more from me in the new year!

Speaking of HouseSitting

This year, I did back…

…to back

…to back

…to back

…to back

…to back housesitting gigs.

These pictures aren’t even all of them. In total in 2015 I did ELEVEN housesits in 12 months. Considering that 4 of them lasted more than a month, and one of them lasted almost 3 months, that’s a lot of housesitting with snugglecats and dogs and not having to pay rent.

Last name Win, first name Epic.

And it’s not over yet. I’ve been housesitting for years and years now, so why stop in 2016. Starting in January, I will be housesitting in VIENNA!!

I haven’t been to Vienna since that first European clusterfuck trip in 2005 (here are some posts about that trip…. gosh this blog is old). I was last in Austria in 2012 for my Eurail Extravaganza, but I missed out on Vienna, so I’m super excited to spend a lot of time there this Winter.

I want to to everything Viennese, like eating strudel served by Michael Haneke on a harpsichord.

I’ll also be swinging through London, Prague, and Amsterdam, so the great tapestry of adventures I’m trying to build can continue!

Hey, You Never Know

One of my main mantra’s of 2015 was “Ask and you shall receive.” In the past I’ve refrained from asking for what I wanted because I assumed the answer would be no, or, more likely, I felt pretentious for even asking. Like, who the fuck are you Christine? You got some balls asking for that.  That changed this year, when I realized that the worst thing that could happen was they’d say No. And if that’s the worst-case-scenario, it’s pretty surmountable. So with that in mind, I figured no-guts-no-glory. I’m a writer, so my income is limited (obvi). The amount of funds I can allocate to quality of life (movies, music, theatre, concerts, performances, dance, festivals, etc) is extremely limited. So what did I do when I wanted to go to an event but couldn’t afford it?

I asked for free tickets.

And I got them.

BOOM.

This year, just because I asked, I gained free entry to the following:

Once: The Musical
-National Ballet of Canada performance of Sleeping Beauty
Deadmouse: The Musical 
Basquiat exhibit at the Art Gallery of Ontario
-secret alt-J concert
-the Stars of the Lid concert at the Unsound Festival
Joel Plaskett Emergency concert
Bettroffenheit theatrical play
-several Toronto International Film Festival movies, including
Homesick,
Disorder/Maryland,
Bang Gang,
Summertime,
Son of Saul.

If It Ain’t Broke…

Everyone knows I’m a huge flea market person (and this year I joined the super secret but now highly coveted collective of BUNZ Trading) so this year I procured a lot of fantastic antiques at bargain prices, and sometimes, for a few tokens or a bottle of wine.

I already had a typewriter, but I still went ahead and got myself a second one. Because reasons.


My two bee-yoots, side-by-side

And then I got a rotary phone. It’s a necessity in the modern world.

And then I finally hooked up speakers to my record player, so I went on a vinyl-buying binge, and got some gems like Duke Ellington (click the little volume button in the bottom right of the vid to listen!):

and the master Django Reinhard!

With these new gadgets, I am now able to open a sassy new office… in 1979.

Speaking of Music


I went to some kick-ass concerts this year. In years past I had grown a bit tiresome of concerts (I had been a music critic for about 5 years and now I have a touch of tinnitus…) but, I guess… YOLO

This year saw me at:

-Kiasmos
-alt-J
-Chilly Gonzales
-Stars of the Lid
-Hauschka
-Joel Plaskett Emergency

alt-J!!

alt-J!

I want to stuff Kiasmos into a bong and smoke them.

 

And, my, the new music I discovered this year!

FAV SINGLES OF 2015 include:

-“Emotion” by BORNS

-“Carry On” by Coeur de Pirate
-“Landfill” by Daughter

-all tracks by Tycho
-“All Clear” by Aidan Knight
-“Let it go” by Saint Saviour

-“Black to Gold” by Dear Rouge
-“Them” by Nils Frahm

-“Pretty Pimpin” by Kurt Vile

And the Oscar Goes To…


I saw a lot of films this year, and even reviewed some during TIFF for VICE. Here are the ones that haunted me long after the credits rolled:

-VICTORIA

-The Daughter

-Son of Saul

-Homesick

-CitizenFour

-Disorder/Maryland

As you can see from this list, I am not really a mainstream/Hollywood/wide-release film person. I prefer indie cinema, the ones that make the festival circuit. They usually have no money behind them and therefore can take more risks or tell stories we don’t normally see. So you can take your Chris Nolan/JJ Abrahms/Michael Bay clusterfuck and order it on DVD. Yawn.

Get Busy Livin’

As I said, I started the year in New York (housesitting). I also traveled to my hometown of Montreal (housesitting), and just recently I went to Miami (housesitting). But I really wanted to exercise my passport, so I bounced down to Mexico, Guatemala and Belize for a Mayan Adventure!

I made a short film about my experiences, I figured it was more fun than posting a bunch of touristy photos. I call it GET RICH OR DIE MAYAN. Enjoy!

To thine own selfie be true

I’ll end this post with the one thing everyone really wants to see:
BEST SELFIES OF 2015


I don’t really post selfies anymore, but I do take them from time to time. Here are the ones I took and never posted!

Remember, you only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.

Happy New Year 2016, munchkins.

SEE YOU IN VIENNA!

Check Out My official website

Don’t forget to visit ChristineEstima.com for more!


#NilsFrahm live in Toronto: A fangirl review


My beloved Berlin pianist Nils Frahm played a sold-out show in Toronto a few days ago, and I was lucky enough not only to grab a ticket, but after the first song Says, he invited us to sit on the stage with him, so I was literally sitting at his feet as he played, a mere metre away. This is the fifth time I’ve seen him live in just over a year, previously I’d seen him in Cologne, twice in Copenhagen, and also Berlin. When you watch him live, you become entranced by his fingers and his arm muscles which seem to be moving faster than your eyes or your camera lens can see. Notice in the pic above how my camera can’t even keep up with his hands. He plays three pianos at once and pulls this amazing orgasm face when he gets really into it.

You heard me.

Anyway, after the show, I told him it was my fifth time seeing him, and he was like, whaaaaaaaaaaaat? I told him I even saw him in that play he did in Copenhagen earlier this year. And he was like, you’re here now? I said I just returned a month ago, and he was like, you never said hello after the other shows! He was delightful and I was a total fan girl. He’s adorbs and I want to fold him up and take him with me everywhere in my pocket…. or something.

Anyway, enjoy my pics from the show. I WAS SO CLOSE, YOU GUYS.


The toilet brushes were the best part.


Nuit Blanche Brussels: If you undress me, I’ll undress you

In the past I have frequented Toronto’s Nuit Blanche, so I knew that the event in Brussels would encompass performance art, light installations, concerts, film, and a mash of everything in between. The entire city was alive with ideas and provocative thoughts from 8pm until 5am. As I ran around all night in the rainy, haunted, winding streets of Brussels, I couldn’t have been giddier. I love Brussels so much. It is the city that saved me, and suffused me.

This poetic light installation was in Place Des Martyrs.

Always take the stairs.

If you undress me, I’ll undress you.

The body as a pendulum.

Homoeroticisms projected onto Place de  la Monnaie.

Inside the beautiful Bourse, which has been empty for many years because of the expanding Stock Exchange, they projected 14 moving images (and when I say moving, I mean emotive and literally moving in slow mo) of a modern day crucifixion with a live quintet playing an aria called 14 Emotions.

I stumbled home sometime around 2am, after having taken the nightbus (which was free for Nuit Blanchers), and as the bus wound through the streets, I just kept repeating to myself, “I love this fucking town. I love it so much.”


I want my Danish

The month that was….

So my time in Copenhagen is coming to an end. This past month feels more like an entire season, I have done so much in such a short period of time, it feels like I spent more than just 4 weeks here! I hung out in Dybbolsbro, Norrebro, Christianshavn, Vesterbro, Frederiksburg, Valby, Oosterbro, Charlottenlund, Lyngby and of course, Christiansborg!

And the things I did! As you see above, I hung out inside an 800-year-old tree, I saw some avant-garde Danish theatre (that came with English subtitles!), I was thrown into the mix during the Eurovision Song Contest (Conchita for the win!), I rode bicycles and boats, I stumbled over cobblestones, I ran in and out doorways to try to stay out of the rain, I ate SO MANY DANISHES (the pastry, you sickos), I photographed street art, I saw live jazz concerts, I made a bunch of new friends, and I got to see Nils Frahm TWICE in concert, the second time for free! See the pics below:

That’s how close I was. I could literally reach out and play his piano if I wanted to. I waited outside to get into this show for about…oh…4 hours! In the rain! So I was damn well gonna make sure I had a good spot.

It was weird though because for some reason, he didn’t have a sound engineer with him. So my friend Mads literally just stepped up to the plate and did his sound for him the entire time. It was hilarious.

And then he played “Says” live and I nearly died. I couldn’t make out where the piano ended and his fingertips began. It was a blur of movement and motion. I think I had my hand over my mouth the entire time. At the very end, he just rips the chord right out of the amplifier to end the song, and I almost fainted.

And of course, I climbed  a spire that overlooks the city. Normally, when you climb a church spire, the stairwell is INSIDE the spire…. NOT IN COPENHAGEN!

SELFIE.

And this is where I was living. Seriously.

It’s so hard to believe this is Copenhagen and not the French countryside like Bordeaux or Toulouse!

Edit: I just realized that in 2006, whilst in Copenhagen, on my way to Berlin, I wrote this post. Notice the similarities? FREEEEEAKY.

Now, as I pack my things and try my hand at a new city (Berlin, can you feel me yet?!), it’s important to remind myself why I am this insufferable yet affable nomad…. because life is too short to spend it all in one place.

I never seem to stay in a city for very long. Keep that in mind, guys — In your towns (and in your lives), I am always only just passing through.

See you in Berlin!


Happy New Year

The wonderful people over at FUSAC treated me to the best New Years Eve gift I could have received: tickets to see The Artist Live in Concert at the Royal Albert Hall, performed by the London Symphony Orchestra! I had never been to the RAH and I have always dreamed of seeing the LSO perform live, ever since I was a second-chair Viola in my high school’s symphony orchestra, so this was a thrilling delight. I have already seen The Artist, so I didn’t pay too much attention to the film. I kept staring the the Cellos (celli?) and the xylophones and the tubas and the Double Basses …. I just love watching hands in vibrato in unison. Even the way they plucked pizzicato was glorious. Above is a super short clip of them warming up (no photos allowed during the performance, naturally).

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Royal Albert Hall is a huge concert venue, with several tiers, balconies, and ornate architecture, it was a feast for the eyes. Somehow, FUSAC got me seats in the 14th row on the mezzanine floor! Best seats in the house! I looked up how much tickets were, and was shocked at the prices. I love getting sweet cultural experiences for free!

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As the orchestra took a bow, the composer of the film, who was actually there, Ludovic Bource, joined the conductor Ernst Van Tiel for an encore. It was the most memorable New Years I’ve had in years.

So 2014, eh? In a few months, this blog will be nine years old. I’m tenacious, if nothing else.

I’m not one for Resolutions or for End-of-year lists or Best-of’s. I have a lot to reflect on, but so much more to come my way.

All I’ll contribute to the reflective dialogue of the changing of the calender year is this:

Say what you will about me, but in my life, I have had every opportunity to be boring, and I never took it.

May that continue in 2014.


A Symphony Pathetique

A testament to how strange and wonderfully sync’d life can be sometimes:

Remember last month when I asked if anyone could put me in touch with the band A Winged Victory For The Sullen? (Read that blog post here). Well, as these pictures can attest to, currently playing an aria on my piano is none other than Sir Adam Wiltzie of A Winged Victory For The Sullen.

The band makes house calls!

We exchanged music for a dip in the pool. Hence the reason he’s shirtless and in swimming trunks.

I lead a charmed/strange life.


brian, top marks for not trying

i’ve been bed-ridden for the past 4 days with a virus that is slow to depart, but i am on the mend (there were some scary moments though, i must admit)…. but a few days before i was a sick weakling with atrophied legs, i went to the Arctic Monkeys/Black Keys concert at the Air Canada Centre. i was lucky enough to get in on the pre-sale for this back in december, and quickly snagged a ticket before it sold out.

frankly, i was more excited for Arctic Monkeys than Black Keys (been a fan of theirs for five years, only been into the keys for two years).

 i really am kicking myself for not going to an Arctic Monkeys concert whilst I lived in England, that would have been much better.

normally, i’m not a fan of arena shows. i prefer smaller venues. as you can tell, even though my seats were pretty great, i was still really far from my love Alex Turner….

oh alex…. now that you and alexa chung have broken up, please, can i have your abortion?

there were some people sitting around me who didn’t even know who the Arctic Monkeys were …. i was like WHAT.

they played all my fav tunes… Brianstorm, Crying Lightning, I Bet that You Look Good on the Dancefloor, Fluorescent Adolescent, Leave Before The Lights Come On, Don’t Sit Down Cuz I’ve Moved Your Chair…. but they didn’t play A Certain Romance, Fake Tales of San Francisco, or anything from the Submarine soundtrack. NEXT TIME, i’m going to a concert where they’re headlining, cuz they left me aching for more. stupid opening act slot does not do them justice

and then the keys took the stage

since there’s only two of them, they made sure their set was loaded with spectacle. flashy lights, disco balls, huge video screens, lotsa hullabaloo

they played all my favourites, Gold on the Ceiling, Lonely Boy, Tighten Up, Howlin’ For You, Next Girl… but they didn’t play Have Love Will Travel. WTF?

This is a band that I don’t think necessarily translates well into huge arenas. They can sell out the arenas, for sure, but their music is so intimate and so CBGBs that it feels like a crime to be seated a football field away from the stage….

i made a short video of their encore…. a disco ball dropped from the ceiling, illuminating the entire audience in an ambient light. that reverberation you hear isn’t the drums, it’s the entire ACC audience clapping in time. it was a great moment:) Enjoy!


sweet disposition; reckless abandon, like no one’s watching you

welcome to the dollhouse

welcome to ChrisTopia. Population: dis gal.

i went to bed one night, woke up the next, and everything was light and airy, like my blood went alkaline without alchemy.

the summer kissed the complaints off my lips.

it’s like toronto is a hustler, and when i double down, she stacks the deck, but i somehow still walk away with a pocketful of chips.

put your money on red. she’s paying out.

in a mere 24 hour Muskoka-cottage-extravaganza, vicki and reg and i lay down under the constellations and saw a shooting satellite, quacked the duckies, did a radio interview on an iPhone, tanned my tits into the bronze age (see what i did there?) and went swimming in the lake of bays.

sun beating on my back like a flogging, i sat on a rock in the middle of the lake while reg and vicki swam back to the dock.

blue dragonflies danced around me, one rested on my hip. i peeled it off with my fingers and its legs did the tango in the air.

i sat there for a long time, looking at my legs submersed, and thought about how i am easily satisfied by the promise of a plum, a pen, and hardcover notebook.

aflac.

Doe.

a deer.

a female deer.

view in pleasure.

riding in cars with girls.

roadtrips are barefooted, music voluminous, kawartha dairy ice creamed tongues gone pink and blue, and talking about how unnecessary men are. we stick our heads out of windows as we fly along the highway at 120 clicks an hour and belly laugh. bikinis under our summer dresses.

moments like teenagers. love.

i am not so much a person as i am a collection of choices.


this photo was taken in 2008 in the People’s Palace in Bucharest, Romania.
sometimes i go through my blog archives….something about a photo being worth 1000 somethings…..

i ran into sofi and katie on queen street west after the night was glowing with punters and peelers outside the poutineries. bicycles fought for right of passage.

they were headed to The Big Sound, at The Great Hall, so we linked arms and curdled with compliments thrown like indirect baseballs at each other, and at the talent gracing the dancefloor. so many happy hipsters dancing to motown sung by flower-headed ladies and buzz-lipped tromboner blokes. my little green clutch purse ($10 from a brooklyn vintage shop) is always prepared for a sudden invite to shake it like polaroid yadda yadda yadda and is stocked with a chinese hand fan, ear plugs, and a hair tie. the room sweltered and seethed with heat. hair clipped up atop my head like rope, ears swiftly plugged, and as i fanned myself and my gals, the air became more tolerable.

the pheromones, on the other hand, hit us hard.

within shoulder-sandwich spaces, men came up with some clever chat lines, usually centred around the fan. i ran with the vibes like liberty.

“a lady always comes prepared,” i said flippantly without intended arrogance. i ended up handing out my card like ice cream to after school suburban rugrats. my fanshake brings all the boys to the…you know the deal.

“you’re a very pretty girl” drawled the drunkards as they handed me heineken bottles and subsequently kissed my hands when i politely refused.

out on the street, girls smoking fags and boys ringing bells, i met the mandolin player for Oh Bijou and wanted to know what the inside of his molars tasted like.

the co-owner of tequila bookworm recognized me. “i see you there a lot,” he said. i didn’t think anyone noticed me there. i go there to scribble in my notebook and write down stories and narratives that may or may not go anywhere. i never think anyone notices me….The Big Sound partygoers and open-late cafes notwithstanding, apparently.

i found this in an alleyway off ryerson avenue near queen and bathurst, just south of my old haunt passe muraille. Fordzilla, is that you?


…jimmy crack corn, and i don’t care!


take this sinking boat and point it home, we’ve still got time

check out my live concert review of Biffy Clyros sold out show here in toronto last week. they were nominated for several Brit awards recently, and i think they were much deserved. great concert by a band relatively unknown here in north america but are MASSIVE back home in the UK. yeah, i said ‘back home.”

also check out my film review of Biutiful which i wrote last year when the film was screened at TIFF but was just released commercially last week. javier bardem has a best actor oscar nod for his performance and this film is up for best foreign language film (against canada’s Incendies...tough race)

photo courtesy of Sheldon Levine

i was contacted recently by this dude whom i blogged about last fall. the dude from my childhood growing up in the suburbs of montreal. he’s gonna be in toronto next week for a short few days and wants to catch up.

i haven’t seen the man since 1993 when i was a gawky pre-pubescent growing up on the wrong side of fortune. everything that happened back then, i put that to bed a long time ago and have dealt with it, but that was only made possible by him being so far out of my life without chance of re-entering. i’m kind of petrified of coming face to face with the catalyst for so much pain. he’s a different person now, and has been very supportive as of late. but saying hello to old ghosts wasn’t really on the agenda…

it’s not gonna stop me from seeing him, for nothing more than sheer curiosity. and maybe for a little closure, 18 years later.

i made this video compilation from the Biffy Clyro show as well featuring their two songs “Bubbles,” and most recent single “Many of Horror” (fuck you X factor). the venue was so small, and i was right up against the stage next to frontman Simon Neil….if this had been london, i never would have been able to get this close to them. they can sell out the Brixton Academy…possibly the O2 in London…

it’s fellow UK music fan and tweeting-fox Catherine!
i’m planning a trip to new york city to work on some edits on my novel, but mostly to do research, as some sections are set there. i’m thinking end of march/beginning of april. i love new york city, as the entire world does, there’s just a vibe there that is hard to find elsewhere (although in all fairness, toronto does come close). i’ve been there three times now and always enjoy myself, especially the last two times mostly because i visited a certain friend there who always provides the shits n giggles (wink wink)
so i thought i’d contact him to let him know, and i remembered he’s on twitter, but of course he hasn’t tweeted since christ was a cowboy. but he does follow a shitload of people which suggested to me that he goes online often.

so i start checking out some of the people he follows, which leads me to the twitter account of some kid photographer who went to egypt as a freelancer

and that kid photographer tweets that he has a sister who does something in fashion, so i’m checking out her fashion tweets.
and there are all these tweets on her twitter account which leave little doubt that she’s the GF of my new-york-shits-n-giggles boy. 
luckily, i’m not really bothered (there’s no way to blog that and not make it sound doth-protest-too-much-y, but honestly, it doesn’t bother me). him and i were only ever one thing. he’s smokin’ hot as brimstone, and a dynamo you-know-where but we have absolutely nothing in common (except for one thing) and have never really had a proper conversation. so if he’s found someone that makes him happy, more power to him… to them both.
BUT.
going through the GF’s tweets led to some unfortunate revelations. without going into too much detail, there’s little doubt in my mind now that when i saw him last year, they were actually officially a couple. which means he made me “the other woman” without my consent. which is fucking bollocks.
i mean, c’mon dude, just TELL me you’re with someone! who cares! don’t make “the other woman” for fucks sake. i feel like i’ve been punk’d or something.

i mean, what’s wrong with being a stand-up bloke? just say “sorry chris, i’d love to hang, but i’m with someone, so it’s not kosher this time around.” that’s all he had to say, and i’d be like, “bummer. i understand. fanks for keeping me in the loop. some other time hombre!” but no, instead i find out on twitter he’s been all up in my grill while simultaneously all up in her grill which, by the steadfast laws of 6-degrees-of-kevin-bacon, means i’ve been indirectly girl-grillin’ without my knowledge. 
mind fuck!
so i’m not gonna tell him that i’m going down to NYC this time around, i’ll really rather not see him anyway. this sucks because, even though we were awkward-city-population-2, i still thought of him fondly as a cool guy.
maybe i’m framing him in a poor light right now because i’m angry, so let’s try to remember all the things i liked about him (other than the obvious)….. he had this very quiet quality about him that, i guess in contrast to my mouthy-ness, was very appealing. still waters run deep syndrome or something. 
but considering that him and i never really opened up to each other, i was never able to understand the core of his quietness or the nature of it. so really, being hurt by this revelation now, is neither here nor there.
whatever. i’m done with him. 
NEXT!
i went to the public butter to see if i could find pair a decent pair of 2nd hand Chucks (which i’ve been jonesing for as of late). found a pair, tried them on, liked them. but they had paint stains all over them and the laces were ripped apart. $20? fuck that bro. so i go to the guy behind the cash.
“i have a question.”
hipster snob with a man-shionista attitude cashier-job says “yah?”
insert section where i describe problems with shoes
“well the shoes are fine,” he snaps
“they’re the only ones you have, and they’re kinda falling apart.”
“what do you want me to do?” snorty scoff
my thoughts, “your fucking job, dumb ass.”
my voice, “i don’t think they’re worth $20.”
“well i can’t negotiate prices with you, the shoes are fine.” rolls his eyes and says everything in a holier-than-thou tone
so i say “absolutely, but perhaps you can ask someone who can.”
“no they’re not here. so there’s nothing i can do for you,” said in a tone to try and make me feel cheap for asking.
“this is a second hand shop, is it not?”
his voice: “yes, but that doesn’t mean we can change prices.”
what i heard: “I am a huge douche with a small brain who works this shit job that i hate and i’m gonna take it out on you because i can and no one’s watching.”
so i just look at him. pause. then say
“WOW.”
then walked out, dumping the shoes behind me.

i mean seriously, dudes. don’t try and pull the “we’re not second hand we’re upmarket vintage we’re gonna charge you whatever we want for beat up shit” act and think no one’s gonna call you on it.
furthermore, if you guys talk to everyone who walks in there and asks a simple question like i did, then you’ve got fucking problems.
my recommendation: don’t shop at The Public Butter. store is staffed by dishonourable cunts whose customer service is a civilization in decline. i mean, fuck man, i’m a hipster (and yes, i know by saying that, it totally negates my hipsterdom) but you don’t see me pulling the snob-holier-than-thou-manshionista bullshit. 
the place is a poison pickle. i’m over it.
NEXT!

 i went to the opening night of The Middle Place (fanks for the comps Joanne!) at CanStage Berkeley. i already saw this play last fall when it was at Passe Muraille, but i really wanted to see it again because it was soooooooo gooooooooooooood. this is what great theatre is all about – dynamic, reflexive, commenting on issues that are immediately affecting the neighbourhood in which the play is staged, and gives voice to a marginalized community without being didactic or telling the audience how they should feel. and i love how the playwright andrew kushnir plays himself in the play! CLEVER-CLEVER LAND! also, the best actress i’ve seen on the toronto stage yet (and i see a lot of theatre) is akosua amo adem, who is probably the main reason i came back a second time anyway. she’s made of amazesauce. i watch her performance and i’m like “this is why i’m not an actress, cuz i sure as shit can’t do that!” anyway, the stage design is sparse, but it’s the use of space and lighting which really adds a neato layer to the drama and conflict. i love how the actors can just seamlessly switch between characters like MPD.
go see this play! all the theatre-fags in da hizzouse, put ya hands up!

i want you to know your quarry
i went to the press screening of Beastly last week, a new movie opening next month which is a modern take on the Beauty & The Beast tale. it was filmed in montreal, but it sucks. it has Neil Patrick Harris. but it still sucks. it has some cool make-up techniques and effects. but it still suuuuuuuucks.
you wanna know what’s even more fucked up? Mary Kate Olsen was actually the best thing about this flick. 
is that weird? that’s weird, isn’t it. 
i guess in comparison to vanessa hudgens and new hot-shot alex pettyfer, anyone will look swell.
alex pettyfer wasn’t bad per se, i just wasn’t paying attention to a single thing he said. he was on mute in my head for the entire running time. this is a guy that you will love to look at, but would probably want to duct- shut his mouth when you’re banging him……urgh, i just took a look at his age. so my “banging him” comment now comes across as sex-offender-awful.
meh.
watch the trailer here:

damn, women in the 40s knew their shizzle. why couldn’t they have passed this knowledge down to us, instead of making us learn about it from sex and the city?

my birthday is next week.

i accept all forms of gifts, regifts, degifts, monetary compensation, flowers, and sexual favours.

i’m now at an age where i can no longer admit to my age. when i met up with Garin, i joked that i was turning 20, and he believed me until i corrected him! so when i lie about my age from now on, everyone is sure to believe me.

unless they read this blog.

KFANKSBAI


>take this sinking boat and point it home, we’ve still got time

>

check out my live concert review of Biffy Clyros sold out show here in toronto last week. they were nominated for several Brit awards recently, and i think they were much deserved. great concert by a band relatively unknown here in north america but are MASSIVE back home in the UK. yeah, i said ‘back home.”

also check out my film review of Biutiful which i wrote last year when the film was screened at TIFF but was just released commercially last week. javier bardem has a best actor oscar nod for his performance and this film is up for best foreign language film (against canada’s Incendies...tough race)

photo courtesy of Sheldon Levine

i was contacted recently by this dude whom i blogged about last fall. the dude from my childhood growing up in the suburbs of montreal. he’s gonna be in toronto next week for a short few days and wants to catch up.

i haven’t seen the man since 1993 when i was a gawky pre-pubescent growing up on the wrong side of fortune. everything that happened back then, i put that to bed a long time ago and have dealt with it, but that was only made possible by him being so far out of my life without chance of re-entering. i’m kind of petrified of coming face to face with the catalyst for so much pain. he’s a different person now, and has been very supportive as of late. but saying hello to old ghosts wasn’t really on the agenda…

it’s not gonna stop me from seeing him, for nothing more than sheer curiosity. and maybe for a little closure, 18 years later.

i made this video compilation from the Biffy Clyro show as well featuring their two songs “Bubbles,” and most recent single “Many of Horror” (fuck you X factor). the venue was so small, and i was right up against the stage next to frontman Simon Neil….if this had been london, i never would have been able to get this close to them. they can sell out the Brixton Academy…possibly the O2 in London…

it’s fellow UK music fan and tweeting-fox Catherine!
i’m planning a trip to new york city to work on some edits on my novel, but mostly to do research, as some sections are set there. i’m thinking end of march/beginning of april. i love new york city, as the entire world does, there’s just a vibe there that is hard to find elsewhere (although in all fairness, toronto does come close). i’ve been there three times now and always enjoy myself, especially the last two times mostly because i visited a certain friend there who always provides the shits n giggles (wink wink)
so i thought i’d contact him to let him know, and i remembered he’s on twitter, but of course he hasn’t tweeted since christ was a cowboy. but he does follow a shitload of people which suggested to me that he goes online often.

so i start checking out some of the people he follows, which leads me to the twitter account of some kid photographer who went to egypt as a freelancer

and that kid photographer tweets that he has a sister who does something in fashion, so i’m checking out her fashion tweets.
and there are all these tweets on her twitter account which leave little doubt that she’s the GF of my new-york-shits-n-giggles boy. 
luckily, i’m not really bothered (there’s no way to blog that and not make it sound doth-protest-too-much-y, but honestly, it doesn’t bother me). him and i were only ever one thing. he’s smokin’ hot as brimstone, and a dynamo you-know-where but we have absolutely nothing in common (except for one thing) and have never really had a proper conversation. so if he’s found someone that makes him happy, more power to him… to them both.
BUT.
going through the GF’s tweets led to some unfortunate revelations. without going into too much detail, there’s little doubt in my mind now that when i saw him last year, they were actually officially a couple. which means he made me “the other woman” without my consent. which is fucking bollocks.
i mean, c’mon dude, just TELL me you’re with someone! who cares! don’t make “the other woman” for fucks sake. i feel like i’ve been punk’d or something.

i mean, what’s wrong with being a stand-up bloke? just say “sorry chris, i’d love to hang, but i’m with someone, so it’s not kosher this time around.” that’s all he had to say, and i’d be like, “bummer. i understand. fanks for keeping me in the loop. some other time hombre!” but no, instead i find out on twitter he’s been all up in my grill while simultaneously all up in her grill which, by the steadfast laws of 6-degrees-of-kevin-bacon, means i’ve been indirectly girl-grillin’ without my knowledge. 
mind fuck!
so i’m not gonna tell him that i’m going down to NYC this time around, i’ll really rather not see him anyway. this sucks because, even though we were awkward-city-population-2, i still thought of him fondly as a cool guy.
maybe i’m framing him in a poor light right now because i’m angry, so let’s try to remember all the things i liked about him (other than the obvious)….. he had this very quiet quality about him that, i guess in contrast to my mouthy-ness, was very appealing. still waters run deep syndrome or something. 
but considering that him and i never really opened up to each other, i was never able to understand the core of his quietness or the nature of it. so really, being hurt by this revelation now, is neither here nor there.
whatever. i’m done with him. 
NEXT!
i went to the public butter to see if i could find pair a decent pair of 2nd hand Chucks (which i’ve been jonesing for as of late). found a pair, tried them on, liked them. but they had paint stains all over them and the laces were ripped apart. $20? fuck that bro. so i go to the guy behind the cash.
“i have a question.”
hipster snob with a man-shionista attitude cashier-job says “yah?”
insert section where i describe problems with shoes
“well the shoes are fine,” he snaps
“they’re the only ones you have, and they’re kinda falling apart.”
“what do you want me to do?” snorty scoff
my thoughts, “your fucking job, dumb ass.”
my voice, “i don’t think they’re worth $20.”
“well i can’t negotiate prices with you, the shoes are fine.” rolls his eyes and says everything in a holier-than-thou tone
so i say “absolutely, but perhaps you can ask someone who can.”
“no they’re not here. so there’s nothing i can do for you,” said in a tone to try and make me feel cheap for asking.
“this is a second hand shop, is it not?”
his voice: “yes, but that doesn’t mean we can change prices.”
what i heard: “I am a huge douche with a small brain who works this shit job that i hate and i’m gonna take it out on you because i can and no one’s watching.”
so i just look at him. pause. then say
“WOW.”
then walked out, dumping the shoes behind me.

i mean seriously, dudes. don’t try and pull the “we’re not second hand we’re upmarket vintage we’re gonna charge you whatever we want for beat up shit” act and think no one’s gonna call you on it.
furthermore, if you guys talk to everyone who walks in there and asks a simple question like i did, then you’ve got fucking problems.
my recommendation: don’t shop at The Public Butter. store is staffed by dishonourable cunts whose customer service is a civilization in decline. i mean, fuck man, i’m a hipster (and yes, i know by saying that, it totally negates my hipsterdom) but you don’t see me pulling the snob-holier-than-thou-manshionista bullshit. 
the place is a poison pickle. i’m over it.
NEXT!

 i went to the opening night of The Middle Place (fanks for the comps Joanne!) at CanStage Berkeley. i already saw this play last fall when it was at Passe Muraille, but i really wanted to see it again because it was soooooooo gooooooooooooood. this is what great theatre is all about – dynamic, reflexive, commenting on issues that are immediately affecting the neighbourhood in which the play is staged, and gives voice to a marginalized community without being didactic or telling the audience how they should feel. and i love how the playwright andrew kushnir plays himself in the play! CLEVER-CLEVER LAND! also, the best actress i’ve seen on the toronto stage yet (and i see a lot of theatre) is akosua amo adem, who is probably the main reason i came back a second time anyway. she’s made of amazesauce. i watch her performance and i’m like “this is why i’m not an actress, cuz i sure as shit can’t do that!” anyway, the stage design is sparse, but it’s the use of space and lighting which really adds a neato layer to the drama and conflict. i love how the actors can just seamlessly switch between characters like MPD.
go see this play! all the theatre-fags in da hizzouse, put ya hands up!

i want you to know your quarry
i went to the press screening of Beastly last week, a new movie opening next month which is a modern take on the Beauty & The Beast tale. it was filmed in montreal, but it sucks. it has Neil Patrick Harris. but it still sucks. it has some cool make-up techniques and effects. but it still suuuuuuuucks.
you wanna know what’s even more fucked up? Mary Kate Olsen was actually the best thing about this flick. 
is that weird? that’s weird, isn’t it. 
i guess in comparison to vanessa hudgens and new hot-shot alex pettyfer, anyone will look swell.
alex pettyfer wasn’t bad per se, i just wasn’t paying attention to a single thing he said. he was on mute in my head for the entire running time. this is a guy that you will love to look at, but would probably want to duct- shut his mouth when you’re banging him……urgh, i just took a look at his age. so my “banging him” comment now comes across as sex-offender-awful.
meh.
watch the trailer here:

damn, women in the 40s knew their shizzle. why couldn’t they have passed this knowledge down to us, instead of making us learn about it from sex and the city?

my birthday is next week.

i accept all forms of gifts, regifts, degifts, monetary compensation, flowers, and sexual favours.

i’m now at an age where i can no longer admit to my age. when i met up with Garin, i joked that i was turning 20, and he believed me until i corrected him! so when i lie about my age from now on, everyone is sure to believe me.

unless they read this blog.

KFANKSBAI


you are created on the bubbles at night, i’m chasing around, trying to pop them all the time

 myself and nat at the #GenYTO social media dancegasmphoto by dan levy, photobomb by sacha (fucker)

so the big news that i referenced in my last post can now be officially announced:
i am a finalist in the Writers Union of Canada Short Prose Competition!
HELLYEAHFUCKYEAH
this particular short story of mine was submitted to several literary journals and magazines last year and rejected across the board, but i KNEW it was a fucking good story, so i was like “fuck ya’ll, i’ll enter it in a contest,” and lo-and-behold, out of 525 entries, and a long-list of 114, i make the short-list of only 12 other writers….and i’m the only finalist from Toronto.
YA SEE?
i talk to so many writers and failed novelists who gave up their dreams after receiving a stack of rejection letters higher than the day is long. i receive rejection letters (sometimes personalized, but mostly form-letters, and often cheap emails) all the time but i mostly disregard those letters with a scoff because i KNOW my writing is made of awesomesauce. i know i’m talented and just because my story didn’t make it past some intern at a magazine screening stories for keywords or themes, doesn’t negate the amazerbeams emanating from my chutzpambition.
(disclaimer: i don’t use these faux-words in my short stories. but i should)
ANYWAY (hello tangent), reading this competition’s press release also reminds me that my story was read and chosen by LITERARY POWERHOUSES sharon pollock, tarek fatah, and K.V. Johansen.
brainjaculation.
although i haven’t won the competition, the Writers Union of Canada will be submitting the story on my behalf to some literary journals and magazines for publication. Fingers crossed, with the WUC seal of approval next to it, it’ll get published.
god gawwwwwd, chrissy needs to eat.
my last short story publication was 2009, so i could really use another creative writing credit to my name (this would be my fifth short story published).
anyway, if you’d like to congratulate me, form an orderly queue, ‘natch.
 photo by casie stewart
i’m also extra happy this week because A) Reg gave me a tear-jerking shout-out on her tumblr B) i’m house-sitting AGAIN in parkdale which makes me wanna lick the homeless (in a good way) C) Boy-surfin with Raymi at Sofi’s Valentine’s Day singles mixer was mega-giggles, and D) I totally made out with someone at that mixer that I don’t even think I like (in fact, i kind loathe him). I’ll hafta fend him off and ignore his texts now…but ugly kissing is always hot.

oh sheldon, my husband, how you strike a pose just so. 
photo by casie stewart

Highway 63 is a play currently running at Theatre Passe Muraille. I saw it last night with Amanda. I may be biased because the show’s creator Layne is one of my best friends ever, but i LOVE-LOVE-LOVED IT! it’s funny! it’s cleverly staged! it’s fast-paced and witty and poignant and heart-warming and unabashedly-Canadian….and i loved that dude who plays Chad, he has a talent brimming with so much staggering genius, when he’s doing something huge like driving a forklift, or something little like miming a TV remote control, you’re captivated. i have a theatre-crush on him. this happens quite often. i see a guy on stage in a play whom i don’t even know and fancy his character. so i project that onto him and then get all googly-eyed. it won’t last, surely (altho my theatre crushes on geoffrey tyler and ryan hollyman haven’t dissipated yet….dammit. any day now).
that being said, SEE THIS PLAY. 
i went to the press screening of Four Lions this morn, which has been out on DVD in the UK for a year but is only opening in Canada now. we’re behind on so many things. the humour in this black-comedy is so refreshingly different from north american comedy, you can’t help but love it while it subtly presents its message as well. of course, because i lived in the UK for years, i got many of the references, allusions, and inside-gags. i think Canadian audiences may or may not balk at this if they don’t get it. that being said, i think it’s deffo worth a whirl! watch the trailer here:

i scored a reviewer pass to tonight’s Biffy Clyro concert. last month it was White Lies, now this.

UK music trumps your tastes.

this quote is kinda apropos for the work i’m doing on my novel-edits. not just in its message, but also in the fact that it’s an Andy Warhol quote…..my novel’s protagonist is a visual artist. book-readers will either love that, or they just won’t “get” it.
writing a novel is like trying to walk up a long staircase on your knees.

>you are created on the bubbles at night, i’m chasing around, trying to pop them all the time

>

 myself and nat at the #GenYTO social media dancegasmphoto by dan levy, photobomb by sacha (fucker)

so the big news that i referenced in my last post can now be officially announced:
i am a finalist in the Writers Union of Canada Short Prose Competition!
HELLYEAHFUCKYEAH
this particular short story of mine was submitted to several literary journals and magazines last year and rejected across the board, but i KNEW it was a fucking good story, so i was like “fuck ya’ll, i’ll enter it in a contest,” and lo-and-behold, out of 525 entries, and a long-list of 114, i make the short-list of only 12 other writers….and i’m the only finalist from Toronto.
YA SEE?
i talk to so many writers and failed novelists who gave up their dreams after receiving a stack of rejection letters higher than the day is long. i receive rejection letters (sometimes personalized, but mostly form-letters, and often cheap emails) all the time but i mostly disregard those letters with a scoff because i KNOW my writing is made of awesomesauce. i know i’m talented and just because my story didn’t make it past some intern at a magazine screening stories for keywords or themes, doesn’t negate the amazerbeams emanating from my chutzpambition.
(disclaimer: i don’t use these faux-words in my short stories. but i should)
ANYWAY (hello tangent), reading this competition’s press release also reminds me that my story was read and chosen by LITERARY POWERHOUSES sharon pollock, tarek fatah, and K.V. Johansen.
brainjaculation.
although i haven’t won the competition, the Writers Union of Canada will be submitting the story on my behalf to some literary journals and magazines for publication. Fingers crossed, with the WUC seal of approval next to it, it’ll get published.
god gawwwwwd, chrissy needs to eat.
my last short story publication was 2009, so i could really use another creative writing credit to my name (this would be my fifth short story published).
anyway, if you’d like to congratulate me, form an orderly queue, ‘natch.
 photo by casie stewart
i’m also extra happy this week because A) Reg gave me a tear-jerking shout-out on her tumblr B) i’m house-sitting AGAIN in parkdale which makes me wanna lick the homeless (in a good way) C) Boy-surfin with Raymi at Sofi’s Valentine’s Day singles mixer was mega-giggles, and D) I totally made out with someone at that mixer that I don’t even think I like (in fact, i kind loathe him). I’ll hafta fend him off and ignore his texts now…but ugly kissing is always hot.

oh sheldon, my husband, how you strike a pose just so. 
photo by casie stewart

Highway 63 is a play currently running at Theatre Passe Muraille. I saw it last night with Amanda. I may be biased because the show’s creator Layne is one of my best friends ever, but i LOVE-LOVE-LOVED IT! it’s funny! it’s cleverly staged! it’s fast-paced and witty and poignant and heart-warming and unabashedly-Canadian….and i loved that dude who plays Chad, he has a talent brimming with so much staggering genius, when he’s doing something huge like driving a forklift, or something little like miming a TV remote control, you’re captivated. i have a theatre-crush on him. this happens quite often. i see a guy on stage in a play whom i don’t even know and fancy his character. so i project that onto him and then get all googly-eyed. it won’t last, surely (altho my theatre crushes on geoffrey tyler and ryan hollyman haven’t dissipated yet….dammit. any day now).
that being said, SEE THIS PLAY. 
i went to the press screening of Four Lions this morn, which has been out on DVD in the UK for a year but is only opening in Canada now. we’re behind on so many things. the humour in this black-comedy is so refreshingly different from north american comedy, you can’t help but love it while it subtly presents its message as well. of course, because i lived in the UK for years, i got many of the references, allusions, and inside-gags. i think Canadian audiences may or may not balk at this if they don’t get it. that being said, i think it’s deffo worth a whirl! watch the trailer here:

i scored a reviewer pass to tonight’s Biffy Clyro concert. last month it was White Lies, now this.

UK music trumps your tastes.

this quote is kinda apropos for the work i’m doing on my novel-edits. not just in its message, but also in the fact that it’s an Andy Warhol quote…..my novel’s protagonist is a visual artist. book-readers will either love that, or they just won’t “get” it.
writing a novel is like trying to walk up a long staircase on your knees.

honey, sometimes love means getting a little rough

i kinda broke the interbone testing testing is this thing on.

a few days ago i posted this TwitPic (which i originally found here) and within a few hours it had gone viral. my original tweet about it has been RT’d at last count almost 400 times, and the TwitPic itself, at last count, had just surpassed 30,000 views. i’m extremely humbled and awed at this moment by the power of the internet. other people posted the same photo on their picture-sharing sites, but for some reason, my TwitPic is the one being sent around the world. i can’t keep up with all the comments and messages flowing in on my end, so i’ll just say thank you to everyone for spreading the word, and keeping the plight of the Egyptian people in your thoughts. i don’t take credit at all for the photo, but by sharing it, we are defying those authorities who would wish to suppress the sharing of information, the truth, and the severity of the situation.

this reminds me of the G20 here in toronto this past summer. while it’s true that no one was killed in Toronto by the governing authorities, the brutality of the police, the illegal actions taken by the government to suppress political protests and the right of assembly, and the information ban, bears a striking similarity.

get political.

if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.

check out my live concert review of last night’s White Lies gig at the Mod Club. while i am a huge fan, i had to be objective, even though i had a great time at the concert. they lost serious points with me. what do you think? were you there? comments and feedback much appreciated.

harry you look like a Priest in this shot
i made this video compilation of the concert last night, it features three of their songs. it’s apparent that we the audience had more energy than the band, but also apparent, how fucking great their songs are. 
hellyeahfuckyeah.
tune up, tune down.

i took all these photos except where noted. i have a shitty sony cyber-shot camera from 2006 that i bought whilst in Berlin for about 150 and yet somehow i’m able to manipulate it to take some great shots. i’m quite proud of these babies. 



when i concentrate, i am an awesomesauce photographer. true story.

i love this shot. go me.

if Harry can strum his guitar against his pelvis like that, just imagine what he could do to me.

this is when i started to get aroused.

basking in Harry’s warm glowing warming glow

haw haw haw

 . . . annnnnnnnd i’m spent.

*   *   *

so the other night was Strip Spelling Bee with sofi and sherwin. for those of you who were there, i was the ‘ring girl’ who held up the ’round 1, 2, 3..” signs in between each cycle. i have absolutely no photos from this event because, to protect the privacy and security of the spellers, no photos at all were allowed.

so there’s no photographic evidence of me splitting my skirt on stage….whilst wearing absolutely no underwear.

good times.

i was live-tweeting the event however, and many of you appreciated all of my “boom-boom” & “doodle” euphemisms. i saw so many unshaven boom-booms and doodles, i felt like i was in a ron jeremy flick.

at one point i yelled out (and tweeted) LESS TALK, MORE COCK.

i really should have that written on a T-shirt. sums up my social life rather accurately.

this photo was taken of me by photographer Becca Lemire at the Gladstone Hotel’s 5th anniversary party and is up on Toronto’s best blog (as voted by Now Magazine’s readers) She Does The City!

“my heart was hot within me: while i was musing, the fire burned.” -39th psalm of david


>honey, sometimes love means getting a little rough

>

i kinda broke the interbone testing testing is this thing on.

a few days ago i posted this TwitPic (which i originally found here) and within a few hours it had gone viral. my original tweet about it has been RT’d at last count almost 400 times, and the TwitPic itself, at last count, had just surpassed 30,000 views. i’m extremely humbled and awed at this moment by the power of the internet. other people posted the same photo on their picture-sharing sites, but for some reason, my TwitPic is the one being sent around the world. i can’t keep up with all the comments and messages flowing in on my end, so i’ll just say thank you to everyone for spreading the word, and keeping the plight of the Egyptian people in your thoughts. i don’t take credit at all for the photo, but by sharing it, we are defying those authorities who would wish to suppress the sharing of information, the truth, and the severity of the situation.

this reminds me of the G20 here in toronto this past summer. while it’s true that no one was killed in Toronto by the governing authorities, the brutality of the police, the illegal actions taken by the government to suppress political protests and the right of assembly, and the information ban, bears a striking similarity.

get political.

if you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.

check out my live concert review of last night’s White Lies gig at the Mod Club. while i am a huge fan, i had to be objective, even though i had a great time at the concert. they lost serious points with me. what do you think? were you there? comments and feedback much appreciated.

harry you look like a Priest in this shot
i made this video compilation of the concert last night, it features three of their songs. it’s apparent that we the audience had more energy than the band, but also apparent, how fucking great their songs are. 
hellyeahfuckyeah.
tune up, tune down.

i took all these photos except where noted. i have a shitty sony cyber-shot camera from 2006 that i bought whilst in Berlin for about 150 and yet somehow i’m able to manipulate it to take some great shots. i’m quite proud of these babies. 



when i concentrate, i am an awesomesauce photographer. true story.

i love this shot. go me.

if Harry can strum his guitar against his pelvis like that, just imagine what he could do to me.

this is when i started to get aroused.

basking in Harry’s warm glowing warming glow

haw haw haw

 . . . annnnnnnnd i’m spent.

*   *   *

so the other night was Strip Spelling Bee with sofi and sherwin. for those of you who were there, i was the ‘ring girl’ who held up the ’round 1, 2, 3..” signs in between each cycle. i have absolutely no photos from this event because, to protect the privacy and security of the spellers, no photos at all were allowed.

so there’s no photographic evidence of me splitting my skirt on stage….whilst wearing absolutely no underwear.

good times.

i was live-tweeting the event however, and many of you appreciated all of my “boom-boom” & “doodle” euphemisms. i saw so many unshaven boom-booms and doodles, i felt like i was in a ron jeremy flick.

at one point i yelled out (and tweeted) LESS TALK, MORE COCK.

i really should have that written on a T-shirt. sums up my social life rather accurately.

this photo was taken of me by photographer Becca Lemire at the Gladstone Hotel’s 5th anniversary party and is up on Toronto’s best blog (as voted by Now Magazine’s readers) She Does The City!

“my heart was hot within me: while i was musing, the fire burned.” -39th psalm of david