"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

Spud

SPUD has been arrested!

Fanks to local street artist Deadboy for sending me the tip!

SPUD, one of the toronto’s first graffiti/street artists, who has  tagged some of the best walls in the city, and has created some of the most provocative anti-Rob-Ford street art, was arrested Monday night, according to The National Post, and CP24.

Apparently, SPUD is the work of three guys, but I suspect the oldest of the crew is the original man.

According to the newspapers, police are urging people to come forward with locations to other Spud bombs so they can build their case.

DO NOT GIVE THE COPS ANYTHING. Do not be an accomplice in the incarceration of artists.

Rob Ford’s anti-graffiti taskforce is censorship at its best; trying to attack what he doesn’t understand.

For more of Spud’s great work, check out this blog’s Spud category, or check out my The Grid article that was published in August.


the more i know people, the more i love the smiths


i leave today! Via Rail is putting me on the cross-canada train from Toronto to Vancouver (with a brief stop in Jasper, Alberta) to blog, vlog, and live-tweet the train experience, and upon arrival in Vancouver, I will be speaking on a panel for the Social Media Week conference. The panel is “Brands, Agencies, and Influencers” and we’re discussing how to build personal brands, the relationship between brands and bloggers, and the ethics therein. if you’re gonna be in Vancouver on September 19th, register to hear a sistah speak here!

most of you know that i’m a huge travel junkie, so being able to explore my own country as much as i’ve explored others is a huge opportunity, one that i couldn’t pass on. it takes a bigger woman than me to refuse such a generous offer.

i’ve travelled the european rail networks extensively, and i swear by them because they’re fast, they’re efficient, and they’re inexpensive. i’ve always been a critic of our canadian rail system, so this experience is the opportune time to prove me wrong.

time to whip out my backpack and load it up with travel essentials. tell me, what does one wear to a panel discussion? business casual? i have my pencil skirts and blouses buried somewhere.

more importantly, what does one wear on a train for three days? Via Rail has set me up in the swanky sleeper touring class cabin, where i will apparently get my own shower, and my meals prepared by a kickass chef. i get my own cabin as well, NO SHARESIES!

when i rode the rails in europe, I always had to settle for the 4 bed or 6 bed couchettes shared with complete strangers who snored, had screaming children, or yipped out the window at every train platform we crossed.

one time, when travelling for over 24 hours from lisbon to budapest (it’s a fricken lonnnnnng train ride, with stopovers in paris and vienna), there were no couchettes left, and i had to sit upright in a compartment with 4 others all night. it was THE WORST.

in india, you didn’t even get a separate compartment. you just slept right out in the open, no curtains, no privacy, and everything at risk of being stolen.

anyway, ADVENTURE TALLY HO!

see ya on the west coast, suckas.

*   *   *

speaking of Social Media and influence, I tweeted this on the 10th anniversary 9/11:

as you can see, it was RT’d by more than 100 people, which actually happens quite a lot on my end, but that number was probably increased when it was RT’d by my main man:

now i finally know what celebrity tweeters have to endure.  some people were INCENSED by those nine little words. amazing how one little pacifist sentiment can incite so much furor. some of the messages i received in response to that tweet were ripped right out of Team America, surely. most of them were xenophobic and racist comments directed toward arabs and muslims, i might add. twitter really is the only refuge for the scoundrels.

hey everybody! got an opinion? you should post it on twitter.

PEOPLE WILL SHIT THEMSELVES.

I worked at the CN Tower during 9/11. I quit shortly thereafter, as did everyone else. I don’t just mean employees, I also mean guests and customers. Towers became taboo.

“Hi Christine,

Let me introduce myself…i’ll go by the name stikki peaches…its my street artist name!
I was sent your link from a friend of mine which knows about my work, and i just wanted to say thanks for the appreciation, exposure and love for what i do, and what other artists do. I’m the ” What if Art ruled the World? ” guy. 🙂 
Unlike a lot of street artists…i like to raise a question, universally, and throw it out there, and its been quite funny, cool, interesting to see and hear what ppl think, either on the web ( blogs ) or with ppl i may meet when actually wheatpasting one of my stencils. I try to keep a really low profile, but sometimes where i chose to lay my art down, isn’t actually the most secluded places. I guess it makes it more exciting. Anyhow, again a big thank you, and if you’re ever in the St-Laurent area again, check out Bernard street, i got a couple of pieces put up around the alleys there too. Little Italy as well.
 A la prochain…Take care.
With luv…SP.
( This message may self destruct in 3….2…1…ok maybe it won’t but whatever…) “

i’ve been blogging about Deadboy‘s street art and graffiti for months and months now, and we talk often.

guess who i finally met?

YES YES YA’LL.

Deadboy had informed me a few weeks ago that he had been asked to participate in the street art showcase  which drops in toronto on september 24th, and the official media announcement was last week at City Hall, so i went to support the man in the mask.

 i actually didn’t realize he was the one in the mask until he waved at me and came over to say hi. seeing as how we’ve never met before, and i have no clue what he looks like, i just assumed he was someone else. as he got closer, i looked at his mask and was like WAAAAAIT A MINUTE, that’s the mask used in his street art!

anyway, we spoke for about an hour, and the press conference was actually super interesting. turns out the Street Art Showcase has received invitations from Bristol (banky’s hometown) and 5Pointz in Queens!

imma be out of town on the 24th (going to Peru!), but you should definitely check out the showcase. follow them on twitter for updates. support Deadboy, tell him Estima sent ya.

speaking of City Hall….

..and another one…

see what i did there?

lol.

interesting viewpoint.

do i think that graffiti and street art is vandalism?

the short answer to that is no.

the long answer is FUCK NO.

another brilliant and colourful Spud bomb, right across the street from MuchMusic.

CHRISSY MAD! CHRISSY SMASH!

i’ve not blogged about the Good Bike project lately, because there are just soooo many bikes to cover, and i see so many of them, i doubt i could ever photograph them all before they’re busted or ripped up. but this one on queen and spadina caught my eye because it had a name on it.

the Good Bike project ladies put Jane Jacob‘s name on another bike, so i’m wondering if Isabella Angel is an activist like Jacobs?

site specific work is the most ingenious work.

i love the idea that someone saw that sewer hole with the pylons and envisioned something else for it, something that is clever and provocative and colourful.

*   *   *

speaking of colourful, i was invited to the Diet Coke TIFF fest this year.

i went last year, and as you can see from my blog post at the time, it was a much smaller affair, just our little twitter crew. we all fit into 2 limos at the time. now the Toronto twitter crew has grown so much such that the attendance was easily over 500.

i didn’t bring my camera but raymi‘s photographer colleague made up for that.

there’s ameet off to the left. we met last year when he used to date a friend of mine, but we kind of run in the same circles, so we bump into each other from time to time.

this looks inappropriate.

raymi says she looks like sharon stone in this pic.

and i look like rachel weisz.

our movie would be box office poison.

my friend paul wrote a round-up of the night’s events for The Grid, and decided to link up one of my tweets about the night in the article (go to 10:30pm, and the hyperlinked “REALLY” in brackets at the end of the paragraph).

i stand by my love of veggie poutine, dammit.

and hey, i write for The Grid too, ya know.

Estelle was brilliant, and i managed to elbow my way to the front.

she’s so gorgeous.

and her shoes were fierce, miss thang.

reg and i were made into flipbooks. watch this video until the very end, where i vent my frustation in caption-form.

*   *  *


i meandered by a venue last night that i shouldn’t have. i saw the scooter and took off running.
go away. please go away.


have love, will travel; if you need loving, oh baby, i’ll travel

this is the first of many more TIFF film reviews to come. Sigh, bring on the festival clusterfuck! Every year I say I won’t do TIFF again, and every year I cave. I just love movies too much, and reviewing them! Being a freelance film critic always wins out over sense and reason. I’ve been covering TIFF for donkey’s years, but I’ve been a patron for a lot longer.

Actually, guess where I was the morning of September 11, 2001?

It was the really crap film Century Hotel, I only wanted to see it because I was a huge OLP fan at the time, and Raine Maida acted in the film (badly). The screening started at 8:45am. After the 90 minutes of pure oblivion, I walked out of the screening, which took place at the ROM, and called mum to say I was headed back to university for my classes.

She told me what had gone down.

I don’t think I understood the full gravity of the situation over the phone.

So I flippantly giggled.

And that’s all I want to say about that.


montreal graffitigasm time!

this was on boulevard st laurent, i think he’s holding a quill, but he’s wielding it like a weapon.

the pen is mightier than the sword, indeed.

this “world of shit” tag was everywhere.

this was off of avenue Duluth, and the following were a series of wheatpastes on the same wall. they blew me away.

the tag on them says “what if art ruled the world?” and  i found similar wheatpastes by the same artists all around the plateau.

i LOVE wheatpastes, i think they are the probably among the best kinds of street art you can do. stencils, and sculpture are also among that group.

when pigs fly!

these two colourful spraypaint murals were across the street from the wheatpastes.

i don’t remember my visual mythology well, but phil said this was Thor.

oh phil, thmile when you thay that.

ha!

hahahah!! for those of you who don’t speak french, this translates to ‘the duchess of my balls.”

now now, don’t get teste.

this was buried deep an alleyway that had zero illumination, so my flash was the only way i could make out the details.

i just liked the face with the hands. his arm is like a branch i’d like to swing on.

this was purposefully placed (probably by the owners of the house) on St.Denis.

i wonder if this guy actually climbed the street light?

phil and i found this while cycling along the canal off of vieux montreal. it’s like looking in a mirror, non?

she’s SO me.

i think the tag says “dayo” and i saw that tag a lot. anyone know who “dayo” is?

i was never a separatiste, but i appreciate the sentiment.

all of the abandoned buildings along the canal are perfect graffiti spots. as our bikes approached this building, i squealed and screeched to a halt on the grass, nearly knocking myself over.

close up! i’m assuming this was done by someone named ezar. i like the mathematical symbol before his name. i learned math in french, so that symbol will always mean “donc” to me. in english, i guess you could call it “therefore.”

donc ezar, this piece looks like a memorial to someone you loved. or someone you lost. or both.

either way, nicely done.

emotions are apathetic.

this was placed on Rue Jarry, on a wall that i think belonged to a dépanneur.

i’d like to think this is a comment on what you can find in a dep.

this was in the mile end area, and i got really excited, because i’ve seen this work in toronto before!

here it is again!!

le snob. le sigh. le tired. le mew. le meow.

i think this wheatpaste is by the same “what if art ruled the world?” wheatpaster guy. it’s the same theme and style.

awww, raccoon looks snuggley. i like how this piece has the painted frame. like it’s gallery work but buried in an alley next to a construction site.

curb your enthusi-gasm.

here he is again, the “what if art ruled the world?” guy.

this “teenage hookers” was spraypainted on the sidewalk in mile end, not far from casa del popolo

we went to the Belmont, and they projected this onto the wall.

i love the word ‘scrotum.’ it’s hard to weave that word into everyday sentences. it should be a ubiquitous word, like fuck or shit.

this was in an alleyway near sherbrooke and de maisonneuve. the fleur-de-lis on the corners of the portrait make me think this dude was a quebecois political figure.

same alley.

now for some street culture in between the street art! we went to mont royal for the Tam Tams! it’s a drumming circle, similar to the one held at trinity bellwoods, except this seems to be a festival where vendours can sell things as well.

i’ve always wanted to play a djembe, but who can afford them?

i’m sorry, but i am an extremely talented photographer.

case in point!

ps, krista, that girl looks like you!

the whole weekend, i kept repeating the same dyslexic-freudian-slip in my mind:

“i freak spench and english!”

also just like in trinity bellwoods, there are tightrope walkers at the Tam Tams. this one guy was so talented, he went there and back without falling, even though it was super windy.

omfguy. i don’t know whether to sleep with him, or stuff him into a bong and smoke him.

moment of clarity, scene of beauty, mind of chrome, skin translucent.

back to graffiti!

it’s also a long way down.

you just love me for my money. ADMIT IT.

clearly commissioned, but beautiful nonetheless

for what? zee germans?

“drunk asshole construction” was actually tagged all over the plateau. either someone isn’t happy with all of the development in the area, or that’s actually his name.

i don’t know who these two guys are, but i love this stencil. it’s full of heart. stencils are great, because they force you to pay attention to the negative space, and they take a lot of prep work:) this was in an alley off of avenue Duluth, right before it pissed with rain.

woah, hello.

i don’t understand the message, but the visuals are incredible.

have Spud, will travel.

fromage.

this piece was brilliant. it’s carefully drawn, almost like dot-matrix design, then cut into stickers, and carefully placed.

it’s the kind of scene you’d find on a church window mosaic. absolutely genius.

massive wheatpaste on the Studio de la SOCIETE CANADIENNE D’OPERETTE building on rue st. denis.

this building is famous for having other wheatpastes put in this spot.

spot a familiar image?

this was written on a church that was under construction. it translates to “a house of slaves, at least.” although, you could translate it to also say “a house of lesser slaves.

someone has gone over the original tag to make it say, ‘une maisoner de se espérée en moins.” which kind of makes sense, and translates to “a home to hope less for oneself.

when it comes to religious institutions, i am forced to agree.

stop procrastinating!

i have so many TIFF film reviews to write (and more to see!), but instead, i’m making googley eyes at you.

priorities: check.

ps: i’m fucking endearing in this video.


all the girls standing in the line for the bathroom

that was the name of the first short story i ever had professionally published. I blogged about it when it happened way back in 2005… that paycheque paid rent that month. i took the above photo in october of last year during my war child challenge campaign, and this was an outtake that was never published, so i thought i’d have fun with it. the blending of two creative projects.

even though i miss house-sitting, i won’t miss that building being the only one in sight for miles in every direction.

found in the alleys behind the drake hotel. i thought Spud already was the mayor.

look closer.

the background of Ford’s stupid monkey face says “Spud 4 Mayor” over and over.

I love Spud’s work, he’s one of the greatest Toronto street artists who eludes everyone. Gregory Allan Elliot told me that some of the dudes in Kensington market know who he is and can put me in contact. His work is everywhere and has been around for years. His Ford-sperms and Ford-faces made it into my The Grid article that was published a few weeks ago. And he always seems to score the greatest walls and locations. The rooftops of Queen and Spadina have all been Spud bombed. One says “SpudR” not sure what the R is for, but hey, we know it’s him because of his style and imagery.

here are some old Spud photos that i’ve taken but have never published. this one above was found in the Ossington-Humbert alleyway (I spend most of my days in alleys, seriously). He took over an entire garage front, and even copyrighted it in the bottom right corner.

this is just a spudbomb sticker, but i love it.

when i grow up, i’m going to bovine university.

this is a moo point.

you know, it’s like a cow’s opinion. it doesn’t matter. it’s moo.

i published a photo of this exact same piece a few months ago, but it was someone else’s photo. thought i’d go back and take my own, for copyright/ownership purposes.

i have another photograph of a piece that was put up in graffiti alley, it’s the exact same rob ford face, but instead of “piss here” it just says “ass.”

hhaha! this is in the alley behind dovercourt and queen. the “work in progress” has always been there, but like the new writing to the left indicates, it has been a work in progress for EONS. C’mon son. GET IT TOGETHER.

do you see what i see?

so fucking cool. this was on abell street behind the wreckage of construction.

i love the unused/abandoned storefronts along queen west.

speaking of Gregory Allan Elliot….see what he did here? He took a black marker to the movie poster for Colombiana… so fucking clever, sir. Yes, I know it’s him because the gun is now shooting his “heart/love” symbol.

the night, with garin, outside the drake hotel, where the woman with the typewriter sat on the sidewalk and tapped poems for passers-by. it sounded like morse-code.

headlines the day after Canada went into a state of mourning…

i was walking along Bloor and this guy was just sitting there holding this while fondling his smartphone.

fanks for letting me take your picture, guy.

it’s the fat-lip twins!

my wifey is so nom-nom-nom.

as i spoke about before, Ford Canada is lending me a car for this Labour Day long weekend (Ford Canada recognizes exceptional awesomeness, clearly) , so I’m going on a roadtrip! I’m going back to the place of my birth, Montreal, to hang with my gay boyfriend, my old school mates, to practice mon français (maudit enfant chienne), and wander about to see what’s cool around the plateau since i left at the age of 12.

frankly, after all that i’ve been going through lately, this opportunity couldn’t have come at a better time.

hopefully i’ll find some amazing Montreal graffiti, and see some great Montreal theatre!

if you have any graffiti/theatre leads, please send them my way. or if you’re throwing a hipster douchebag party event clusterfuck that kyboshes other attempts, let a sistah know.

bloggin will resume next week.

à  la prochaine, mes ti-choufleurs!


Relax, I’m Hilarious

TIFF is coming up, and I’ve been invited to so many advanced press screenings that I’m debating whether or not I should throw myself face-first into the fest like I did last year. Last year was amazing, I reviewed the festival for FOUR different media outlets, including the CBC. I met some amazing people in the industry, attended some hoity-toity parties, saw a record-breaking 35 films (including The King’s Speech, where I knew from the press screening that it would win the Oscar), and feasted on the visual stimuli flashing through a darkened cinema. Static flicking off the beams of light.

So why the debate?

Mama’s got a book to write.

*   *   *

sneak with me as i disappear into the back alleys. keep your feet pedaling, the bike leaves no footprint. the night will swallow us like a python, opening its mouth, and then holding its breath.

all the kids in the ghetto call me Don chris estima.

gauzed in red, the colour tearing through my flesh,  this painted city belongs to me.

we discover art.

and colour

and you will know i was once here

by the looks thrown over my shoulder.

Rob introduced me to Poser, who does these smooth rabbits all over town. Now you won’t be able to walk around without noticing them. I love how the rabbits are holding spraypaint cans whilst almost saying “Eyyyyhhhh, sup gurrrrrl.”

word.

speaking of Deadboy, my last post (which detailed his new Rob & Doug Ford as Tweedledee/Tweedledum wheatpastes all around the city) got some love from BlogTO

 

 that single BlogTO tweet sent my blog traffic batshit crazy through the roof, kiboshing all previous records. fanks hombres!

hello new munchkin readers! enjoy my neurotic blogjaculation.

relax, i’m hilarious.

now shut up and show me your tweets.

rob takes a decent graffiti snap.

rob and i snuck around the back alleys for about four hours, well past midnight. darkness creeping in on secrets.

first obvious target: graffiti alley, then up the ossington alleys, then through kensington market. i think our next destination should be the rail path which runs through the junction. i know there’s some amazing shit there, my camera is gagging for it.

does anybody else think this looks like a concentration camp?

zejko? that sounds yugoslavian . . .  maybe serbian or croatian or bosnian. i wonder who this guy is.

political figure? martyr? writer? philosopher? just some dude?

andy warhol just rolled his eyes.

ha, i love this little gas-can fucker.

oh hello mr elliott. we meet again.

i’m surprised to still see some of the Andrew posters around, they’re quite old (in terms of street art shelf life), so this was a rare find. however, considering the way Andrew died, tagging the poster with a mouthful of blood and a speech bubble with “liberal lies” is rather upsetting.

what kind of tagger writes “liberal lies” anyway? i’m sorry, is Andrew’s tragic story offensive to your conservative graffiti ethos? fuck off with that shit.

my last post detailed some Tokyo tags, and now we know who he is. Rob found him on facebook, so we have a face with a (fake)name now. Sup guy.

i also recently blogged about the posters and stickers that have gone up around queen and spadina, commemorating the kettling and brutality that occurred last year during the G20 summit. the stickers say “our civil rights were lost here.” the posters show sombre photos of  the attrocities done against peaceful toronto civilians.

the “tokyo” is almost gone. i wish rob ford was rubbing away too.

this headless frowner reminds me of our unhappy hipster run-in while rob and i took a break at 416 Snack Bar. some loud hipsters with massive, square, black-framed specs, and nostrils brimming with white coke, shouted at me from across the table to smile.

i turned into them and gave a fatal grimmace.

coked-up hipster goes, “that’s the worst smile i’ve ever seen. why won’t you smile for me?”

to which i leaned in and coo’d, “I’m not going to be your monkey.”

and at that, his balls crawled back up inside his body.

from what i can gather here, someone stenciled “supreme” then someone with a spray can tagged it into “supremely stupid” but they spelled “stupid” wrong…. studpid? stucpid?

this freaked the shit out of me, because in the darkness of the alley, you couldn’t see all those details. you could see a bit of the face. my flash revealed the bleeding ghost.

some daytime shots from the back alleys in parkdale.


reminds me of some graffiti seen in the background during the film Children Of Men…. “last one to die, please turn out the light.”

is that elvis presley or chris cornell?

when horses are this lame, they shoot ’em.

hi c-saw, i will respond to that question with this.

good call, speaking of bikes …

i’ve got more THE GOOD BIKE finds!

a basket filled with a potted plant, untouched!

AND it’s bolted to the ground. you ain’t stealing this, fuckfaces.

the photo of me at the top of this post is of me taking this photo….

wow, that’s so meta.

and the moral is: the easiest way to make guys lose their shit is to have yours together


black pearl athena

last week, i was flattered with tickets to see Spent at the Young Centre for Performing Arts in the distillery district. many of you know i am a huge theatre fag and try to see as many plays as possible, and i’m always willing to blog and tweet about the gems.

Spent, written and performed by Adam Paolozza and Ravi Jain, is a lampoon of the 2008 economic crisis, told through physical comedy (basically the style is clown, without the red noses or stupid Bozo facepaint). it was a ravishing, funny,vibrant, joyous romp through what many considered a polyp on the colon of ecoomics and finance. Paolozza ad Jain have created a rock ’em sock ’em satire of the discourse we use when dealing with money, making several analogies to religion, and how dollar signs can be confused with crucifixes. they do all that in a mere 80 minutes, with energy to spare.

it’s the coolest fricken play you’ll see this summer in toronto before it hits the edinburgh fringe fest. all the details you need is here (and tickets are cheap, people). get thee to a playhouse.

(#Tweetgasm photos courtesy of Photojunkie.ca)

i actually didn’t notice Reg was copping a feel here. i thought we were just squishing our puppies together.

woah. her face = sex.

was shocked to see paul. i’ve only ever seen him out once before, way back in february for GenYTO during social media week. i’m walking up to the gladstone, then outta nowhere, i see him on the sidewalk, and i’m like, “wait, what?” took me a moment to actually process it. i would have walked right by him if he hadn’t turned at the sound of my heels clicking along the pavement. paul’s twitter bio says that he “believes shoes tell everything about a woman.”

“so what do my heels tell you about me?” i asked.

paul opened his mouth to answer, but i cut him off:

“on second thought, don’t tell me.”

that’s probably for the best.

yaw took these iPhone shots of me. here i’m wearing dave‘s specs, looking like an angry librarian.

this caption should be “I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO WORK IN A LIBRARY!! IF ONLY I COULD READ!!!!!”

now i’m wearing Yaw’s top gun aviators, pulling a duckface, adored by myspace-alien-face-peace-sign-model-mayhems everywhere.

jessica‘s housewarming party. sweaty and rained on, but…..

…i still managed to finger-dance and pull a bride of chucky mug.

testing testing is this thing on?

i was stopped at a red light near college and lansdowne, looked in my side mirror, and nearly lost my heart in the rails and moving blues.

went to Rule Britannia at Clinton’s with andrew, which was rather disappointing. kept playing stupid top 40 british hits from the 80s that are overplayed and not really crowd pleasers. i only heard one Arctic Monkeys song and one Klaxons song, the rest were fucking come-on-eileen, twist-and-shout, i’m-feeling-supersonic-give-me-gin-and-tonic, rio-grande BOLLOCKS. yawn.

this was the night before amy winehouse died. they didn’t play a single one of her tunes.

i remember the first time i heard of the Forever 27 club. it was actually a decade ago now, the summer of 2001, when i was working at the CN Tower. i was one of the bitches operating the elevators. “and now we’re moving at 15 miles per hour, this is the tallest free standing tower in the world, it takes 58 seconds to get to the top, blah blah fucking blah.” this dude that i worked with at the towering inferno was having a houseparty, i think his name was michael, but it could have been colin or william (i’m showing my age here, aren’t i?). on the wall of his sherbourne apartment was this poster that said Forever 27 and it had the usual suspects on it. i didn’t get what it meant until i asked, but for some reason, the image of the poster burned into my brain.  i had the biggest crush on that michael-colin-william dude too. i had held a houseparty earlier in the year, which he attended, and this was back when i had no reservations about drinking, so i shitfacedly swung my legs onto his lap, and basically made a plastered fool of myself, which he seemed to like, because he came back the next day to hang with me, using the pithy excuse of “i left something at yours” which he totally didn’t, he just wanted to do what Reg was doing in the above photo. i didn’t let him.

suffice it to say, when i quit that shit McJob, i never heard or saw him again.

after a 50 kilometre bike ride to the downtown core (good god i love biking and my bike, i’m such a shitkicker), i met up with nate and we basically spent sunday together. iced coffees at Crafted, dinner at Lakeview, drinks at Sweaty Betty’s.

he pointed out the above Devil Rob Ford street art to me, which i may have just walked by if he hadn’t pointed it out. it looks like the same style as these rob-ford-spermatozoa‘s i found a little while back. Who is behind this wheatpaste? it’s on the corner of ossington and humbert. if you know, please tell me!

“my soul is a death rattle,” i recently told nate.

tie a noose around my neck and pull, and pull, and pull.

the Nus doth protest too much.

why we should lose our virginity, from Submarine.

i’ll never tell which reason i chose.

i keep having these ferbile dreams. i wake up disoriented, and the feeling lingers all day, agate colours punctuating my eyes, splitting them from my brain.  i had to walk through the city under a baseball cap and huge sunglasses, head down like i’d lost my dog, hiding the face, for fear that someone would recognize me from the dream, as if the players were about, dreaming the same things, our subconscious minds linked in perfumes.

chasing her around the table, in a movie. wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and the credits roll.


my soul is a death rattle.