the birth and death of the day (then remixed)

Tonight I saw an Asian Man in war paint walk up to a mic stand and start hollering Anarchy In the Uk by the Pistols. It really confused me but made me really happy in a way. Perhaps because I love people who do the unexpected (or in this case sing the unexpected) but that's what real punk is about I guess, breaking down stereotypes and trying not to conform to the non-conformist manifesto.
Tonight I feel like I'm sitting here directing a symphony with my heart as the conductor and my headphones as the gateways to a better world! It's amazing what goes on when people let down their guard and just experience life at it's most raw and authentic.
I like artists. I like the Fine Arts department with all their people who are comfortable with expression, who THRIVE off expression and aren't afraid to push boundaries. Maybe, I even envy them. I like Hilary because normally I am intimidated by people with such talent but she is one of the warmest people I've ever met. She also always remembers my name and I feel bad because sometimes I have to get Chris to remind me of hers, although she is VERY memorable.
I'm a big fan of smiles and hugs too for that matter.
Especially at SPRUNG and especially when I'm sipping wine (which may appear to be classy, but it is in fact very ordinary, unlike everything else.) Happy coincidence running into David and a beautiful experience in the visual media room with a boy who I recognize and his guitar. I wish Andy Warhol could have been there; actually, I felt like he was there with everything so modern, edgy and inspiring. Also a big fan of the guy from church dinner, he had a nice backpack.
One day I think I have to bring my pen and paper to the visual arts building and just start writing writing writing everything that I feel about all the brilliant things I see, whether I understand them or not.
I should have picked up that bass in that room, I don't know why I didn't. . .
Hello Jens and Chris and Hilary and Rachel and Rachel and David and many more people I would like to meet....
Ode to Chris:
today you got beat up by pavement,
but thank you for inviting me to the event.
i had a wonderful time with you and your friends,
and liked it when you fell and got laughed at by us and jens.
your sincerity and good attitude is contagious
i like picking up what you put down, you're outrageous.
i'm glad i met you that day on the grass,
who would of guessed we'd be in the same class?!?!

Graham sang the finale song from "School of Rock" at UVic Idol (which I keep wanting to say SKS Idol fyi haha) and it was pretty epic. I love that part of the movie and he brought the house down with his song. Sitting and drinking and laughing was also a lot of fun, everyone was so chill and about having a good time, I love people who are like that. That's definitely more my scene, but what makes a scene anyway....
That's all we've talked about today, you can make a scene with emotion! but why does the expression of emotion always have to be so apart from our regular daily routine, why is it classified as a "scene."


I asked Josh for an interview today, and was super shocked that I just blurted out the question because I really didn't mean to be that forward, but that's the first thing that came to mind when he said "hi." Haha, I'm really smooth, NAWT. Luckily he agreed and now I have to come up with some great questions, he seems really down to earth and cool but FIRST I want to interview aragon, if she doesn't mind. She is probably one of the most memorable profs I'll ever have, and I'm only on my first year. :)
It's 12:34 a.m. and I still always think of theset and the first time I ever saw them at the Miracle Centre (durr...no wonder it's called that, they were a miracle.) I remember them playing September 4th, 2005 and then again on the 7th or so for extra gas money. I remember standing there with no one really moving around and not being sure if they were cool b/c I was still relatively new to the scene just to find out that no one else really knew who they were either. I remember telling Jenelle that they were really good (and privately determining they were my favourite from that night, even more so than The Murderous, Stutterfly and The Bleeding Alarm.) Then from there on out...I was hooked.
I so DEEPLY miss those days when music was the most important thing in my life and I spent countless hours learning about "my" bands as if they were something to be possessed, even though they are to be shared with the world and I'd prefer it that way. I miss that passion I had. It's still there but I guess it grew up like I did. Fuck kids who said that the whole post-hardcore/emo genre is garbage, it was that medium that adolescents could relate to more so than anything else in their lives at that time probably. I remember sitting on the Heater Room stairs with Katie Hodgeson and her showing me "The Tide" by Spill Canvas in grade 9, and us both almost crying. I remember lending Amanda my walkman to listen to "Blue and Yellow" by the Used around the corner, upstairs in the heater room probably in grade 8, because it spoke louder than anyone else, including ourselves. It understood what was happening and made us not feel alone.
That's what great music SHOULD do. It should move you to a place where you can be relatively objective from yourself but totally the subject of the melody.
I was a child addicted to catastrophe and upset now that I reflect. My favourite books were by Lurlene McDaniel: (Lurlene McDaniel is an author who has written over 60 young adult books. She is well known for writing about characters struggling with mortality and chronic illness. Her characters have grappled with cancer, diabetes, organ failure, and the deaths of loved ones through disease or suicide.) HELLO! But see, that was healthy for me because I was always feeling monotonous as a child, despite what ever exciting or psychotic event was happening around me and I THRIVED off the emotional roller coaster of characters who were feeling things that were REAL (real, in the imaginary sense of course.) I wouldn't go so far as diagnose this as a need for my ego to feed off drama (as "us" adults now would) it was just a way of understanding other people and feeling compassion toward the human condition.
So here I sit, wondering if I've really come that far. I have beautiful roses at my right in a vase. Satiny pinks and yellows with stems stretching toward the fountain of life. Baby's breath put there by fragile hands with well-manicured nails and wrinkly fingers perhaps? Delivered to me from far away but then again, not so far away at the same time. I don't want to become all pastoral and Canadian in that sense, but truly the beauty of a blooming flower petals is miraculous (I almost stop thinking about the exploitative Dole flower companies that probably produced them and engineered them to last this long.) If I could, I would give EVERY grrrl and woman roses for their private admiration. There's something about their beauty that transcends all societal symbolism and context, it's that velvety caress across your lips and skin, it's pranayama deep breathing, it's the unwavering strength of such fine petals that don't crush under you handling, it's the different stages of development and how they're always opening opening opening opening opening. Giving giving giving. Until...
It's now approaching 1:00am but time is a mere relation point assisting our need for "order" in our lives.
here
i
welcome
the
birth
and
death
of
day.
here.
now.
in.
the.
present.