As it seems like gorgeous weather and lazing about go hand in hand, I've fallen into a similar "how can anyone expect me to be productive in this sunshine" trap as my compatriot OptimuscrimeMontreal.

I was supposed to meet with KC to talk about some YoRodeo! business. I was also supposed to clean my room. And let's not forget the four looming screenprinting jobs in the next two weeks. But then I roll out of bed, and what am I faced with outside?

Glowing Weather-Related Bliss!

The state of the OptimuscrimeHalifax Nation:
Outdoor Temperature: 24°C
Indoor Temperature: 20°C
Morale: Through the roof
Work Ethic: Nonexistent

I called KC, and we both decided that there was no sense in even trying to work today. I thought for a moment about cleaning my room, and then Jonah came over, followed shortly after by Meghan. A decision was made instead to spend the most precious hours of beautiful sunshine on our front-porch/stoop drinking Lime-Aid, and eating Veggieburgers. It was Greg, Jonah, Meghan and myself. It was a good plan, and we executed it perfectly. It even turned out serendipitously to have been timed perfectly to just miss the neighbourhood TroubleMakers walking home from school. No basketballs in the head today, friends!

Our stoop-sit was a complete success, and has been agreed upon as the formula for the soon-to-be-announced, weekly 6015 Willow Street Stoop and Beverage Parties. The days/times are being worked out right now, and flyers will be circulated. This summer will destroy all others past!

ABOVE: Holly, and Pheilm, featuring newcomer, Wiljoe

A little late in posting, Monday night marked a first at the Willow Street Manor, fabled home to the popular and respected members of Team Willow. It was the return of Pheilm and Holly, friends and former schoolmates of the Team, visiting from their home in Newfoundland. And with them they brought a very special guest! The very first baby, (or first human under the age of 1) ever to visit 6015 Willow Street under the current management of the last three years.

Wiljoe Martin was warmly welcomed to Willow Street, and his lovable baby qualities were appreciated by all.

On a personal note, it's kind of intriguing to think that right now, an entire generation of people, across the world are all beginning to feel that special feeling: The bizarre reality that we are now old enough to procreate, or at least to have friends who are procreating.

Holy Shit.

First it was "[blank] and [blank] are GETTING MARRIED!?" And I'm still having a bit of a hard time with that one. I mean, I'm all for options, and I'm all for single, non-single, mono, non-mono, casual, or lifelong relationships. That part doesn't phase me. (Ok, sometimes I get phased, but theoretically, I like to think that I'm pretty laid back) It's just the desire to go out and get legally wed that has sort of eluded me, and continues to do so. With that said, I also have no strong feelings against marriage, (aside from the obvious social stigmas supporting it that leads to thousands of bullshit "it ain't love unless it's legal, we're a divorce waiting to happen" marriages) it's just that I have no terribly strong feeling FOR it either. I'm pretty crazy about someone (someone who's name bears a striking similarity in spelling to the word Someone) and have been for two years. As much as I love her, I don't see us getting married, no matter how long we stay together. I think a good "hey, we're still in love!" high-five every now and then would do me just fine.

And now, it's babies. BABIES! Say it with me: People my age are having BABIES!!!

But as strong as my cynical, "perpetually 16" attitude is, I must admit, that if there's babies to be had, I put my full support behind Pheilm and Holly. I love those guys, and I think they will make terrific parents. Seeing them again was great, and seeing them with Wiljoe was pretty incredible. They looked so damned natural, and so in control. I think I would be a sweaty, jittery mess. I think I would fear breaking the little guy. To be honest, I love kids. I freaking love them. But sometimes I worry that I'm doing a bad job of taking care of my pet rabbit. What would I do with a HUMAN CHILD?

As for Wiljoe, he proved to be a real charmer. He spit up once, which surprisingly, was more funny than gross. And he stuck out his tongue, slept, giggled, and did other baby-like things. It was great. And then he got to go home with Holly and Pheilm, the worlds two nicest people ever, to Newfoundland. What a lucky kid. I don't know if Holly or Pheilm will read this, but you guys are rad. You have my full "go ahead and make babies" approval. Not that you need my approval. But you have it.

Adam and I went to Bayers Lake on thursday, to check out Value Village, and the pet store. While we were there, we also stopped in to Futureshop to check out the current state of technology. Advanced window shoppers, and all-around bums, we really just wanted to have a look at fancy, overpriced gadgets that we don't need or can't afford. Our first stop was the Ipods. It was there that we met Futurefriend, a 20something, akward, and possibly-high Futureshop employee. Our conversation began in a familiar way:

FF: Hey guys... (hesitant, looking around in a sketchy fashion) Umm.. Is there something I can help you with?
Me: No, we're just looking. Thanks.

It should be noted that his facial expression, pre-occupation with something, somewhere in the distance, and dopey "I really don't want to be here doing this now." expression gave us at first the distinct impression that he was scouting us. That is to say, that someone thought we, two sketchy wierdos, were going to steal something, and this poor joker had been sent to "occupy" us. We later dismissed this theory, largely due to his total ineptitude, and figured that he was just making a terribly half-hearted attempt to make a commission sale, while simultaneously hating his job with more vigor than than I could ever imagine.

FF: So you're looking at MP3 players, hey? What do you think?
Me: Yeah, I was just checking them out. I'm not really interested in buying.

I would also like to mention that during the whole incident, I did all the talking, while Adam stood silently, holding back giggles, and waiting for it to be over.

FF: So you like the Ipods? Yeah, we've been getting a lot of questions about those. (looks around the store suspiciously, or possibly just indicating his total lack of interest in his current engagement.)
Me: Yeah, I bet. They're pretty popular.
FF: Yeah, (sighs. He actually sighed.) They're pretty popular.
Me. Yeah, (and just to see if he was paying attention..) They're pretty popular.
FF: Yep. They're pretty popular. (Jesus!)

Wanting nothing more than simple escape, I looked to Adam for an out. Nothing. He tried unsuccessfully to hold back a quiet giggle, and said nothing. (Although, I was no better.)

FF: So what kind of music do you like? (No! Come on!)
Me: I don't know, um, lots of music.
FF: Oh yeah, like what kind of music?
Me: I don't know Adam, what kind of music do you listen to?
Adam: Uh, lots of music.
FF: Cool, and what kind of system do you have for that now?

So the classic, "Lots of music" trick had no effect on him. What kind of monster was this? He clearly didn't care what kind of music we listen to. Why did he ignore such a clear "I'm not interested in this, you can just stop now" signal?

Me: Um, I have a stereo. And a computer, I guess.
FF: So no kind of portable system to deal with that, then?

Portable system? Was he kidding? Who calls a walkman, or even an Ipod a PORTABLE SYSTEM?

Me: Well, I have a small MP3 player. (big mistake.)
FF: Oh yeah, what kind? An Ipod?
Me: No, a Rio.
FF: And are you happy with that?
Me: Yeah, I like it. I use it a lot more than I thought I would.
FF: How many songs will that hold?
Me: I don't know. 90 or so.
FF: So you're thinking of upgrading to an Ipod?
Me: No. I like it fine.
FF: Yeah, I guess the Ipods can hold thousands of songs. Thats kind of cool.
Me: Yeah, that's kind of cool.

It was at this point that I became aware of my pounding headache. I was sweating. What was the deal with this guy? Was he deliberately wasting our time, pre-occupying us so we couldn't "steal stuff"? No, I don't think so. Did he really want a sale that badly? I can't imagine it, this kid looked like he just rolled out of bed. I'm pretty sure that this was a case of a "Crap, I just got the old productivity-lecture from the boss. I hate this job. Shit, I should try and sell something. There's someone, ok, let's do it I guess. Sigh." last ditch effort not to lose the only job paying his way through university. (Not that I can't empathize with the crap-job for sky-high tuition scenario, but...) So it was all going pretty painfully, with us having no way of escaping his slacker-clutches, and he having no clue what to say next to help his situation. And so he tried:

FF: So what are you guys doing tonight?
Me: Um, I don't know. Hey Adam, didn't you want to look at computers, or like, dishwashers or something?
Adam: Yes. We should do that. Now.

That's Seth on the left, and that's me on the right. Notice the looks of dejection present on both of our faces? It was a bad bad day for Yo Rodeo!

We were supposed to print the sleeves for Contrived's new ep today. It was supposed to be easy, and we were looking forward to it. We'd mixed a really nice navy blue, and gotten our hands on some seriously hot silver ink. We'd even finished printing Kary's cd's two days before, which we thought had served as excellent practice for printing on surfaces that were kind of new to us, since they were the same type of case.

I'll spare you a long drawn out story, and in it's place, enjoy a point-form summary:

- new silver ink is too coarse to go through our fine screens. Three screens burned in before one is found coarse enough to allow the beautiful ink to pass. (No big deal, that happens.)
- coarse screen, will print silver just fine, but cannot reproduce detail, thereby rendering half of the design unprintable in silver. So we decide that the main graphic will remain silver, and the rest of the text will just stay white.
- once screens all set up, and sleeves unpacked, ready to print, best news ever: Sleeves are smaller than we thought, and artwork is now too big for them! Some
- Artwork reworked, rebuilt in roughly 15minutes, and printed in Greg's room. Greg's printer feed tray busted right off by yours truly, while I suffer from a panic attack.
- new artwork completed. new screen burned.
- we notice that the new sleeves are not only smaller than we thought, their shinier too. Suspicious from previous glossy experience, Seth quickly checks it out. tests prove what we feared the most: inks will not bond to the new glossy cases. Hearts breaking.
- Seth's band has to play a show tonight, Contrived needs cd sleeves by tomorrow.


Result: We Are Screwed.

But fear not, for even in the face of adversity, Yo Rodeo was able to make it out alive:

Luckily, through some brilliant resourcefulness, and the help of one diligent and miracle roommate, Greg Boone, we were able to finish the cases by screening onto sticker paper, and then sticking that on the cases. Not quite as smooth, or pro, but it turned out pretty damned good.

And Greg Boone: Thank you. A thousand thank yous. You saved our lives.

I would like to introduce all of my readers to my new friend, Owl the Candle. Simone found him at the village of values, and gave him to me as a congratulatory gift for having finished my essay. (even though it was close to a week late.) I especially like his plastic orange eyes, and I think that he may just have taken the title for my favourite owl so far.

That's right. I collect owls. (that is, owl figurines.)

It started about five months ago, when Brent, quiet but dedicated member of Team Willow, brought home a small brown porcelain owl figurine that he had found at a thrift store. I thought it was pretty funny, and even a little charming, and the more I looked at that little guy, the more he grew on me.

I should mention that the House already had two plastic guard owls, which have had a place perched above us in the living room for the last year and a half.

One day, on a thrift store mission of my own, I myself came across a small porcelain owl, and I just couldn't resist. I brought him home, and placed him on the mantle-ledge beside one of our guard owls. It seemed perfect. I really liked that little team.

Months passed, and suddenly, I was noticing small owl figurines everywhere I went. They became impossible for me to resist, they were far too funny, too cute, to ridiculous, too fucking awesome. Soon I had a legion of owls, growing weekly, each one different, all of them friends, and I could barely remember a time that I wasn't on constant owl-watch.

And then Simone gave me Owl the Candle, in the presence of Selwyn, Rob, and Brenna, and I explained to them about my owl collection on the mantle-shelf in the living room. And then I realized something:

This is how it begins.

This is where parents come from. This is how your aunt began collecting crystal unicorns. It all starts as an innocent joke. You find a funny little porcelain owl, and then two and then three, and the irony of your little "collection" just keeps getting better and better. And so you search out more and more. And then one day, you realize:

The irony is gone. You collect owl figurines.

For real.

Why?

Why did I let myself go to sleep? I thougt I could sleep for three hours, and then get up and finish this. What a mistake that was. I got up at 8:30 instead of 5:00.

Crap.

These have become my primary source of strength tonight, as I brave the coming dawn, staying up all night writing my frigging paper for History of frigging Collections. Why the crap didn't I start this sooner?

Right now my two loving parent's (both teachers) are shaking their heads, and sighing.
"Where did we go wrong?"

As for the Sour Patch Kids, first I eat the yellow, then the orange. (both of which can be dismissed as lesser flavours) and then on to green (which surprisingly, took it's place just behind red as the second favourite, just a few short years ago.)

Then the red.

We don't even need to talk about red, that's how good red is.
They could make a bag with nothing by red, that's how good red is.

Only an hour or so more, and I'll be on my way over to the Irving for some flavoured cappuccino.

Christ, I'm a weak, broken man.

More and more reasons why someone should just buy me one of these.
Anyone? Anyone? My birthday is in july.
If you buy me one, I'll give you my big honking desk. I won't need it anymore.

Hey check it out!

My computer has been running a lot slower lately. "Nothing to worry about." I've said reassuringly to myself numerous times, "It IS four years old. Maybe it's just time for some more RAM."

Just to make sure, I downloaded an antivirus program. to give the little guy a checkup. The first system check I ran found roughly 1300 infected files! I don't actually know how many of those were fixed, but that's a lot of "oh crap". As you can see by the screenshot of my second check, it seems the old clunker is actually riddled with viruses! It's like a big virus party. Who the hell invited all those guys? Not me. It's not the sort of crowd that I normally associate with. (They all have names like "Britneytits" and "megaBritney" and "JapanaSpears". Hey wait a minute.. I'm detecting a trend here.. how did pop icon Britney "Rocketing Past Her Prime at the Speed of Light" Spears get at my harddrive? First it was that damned Oops! album, and now this. That girl has a lot of explaining to do.)

Anyway, as illustrated above, 3 viruses left. I would say that that's a conservative estimate. I would also say that AVG is a crap program. (and if anyone can get me a copy of Norton, I will bake you so many cookies...)

So, in conclusion: my computer is a sick little puppy.

I blame the internet. (And you.)

Last night was the first night of the Khyber's annual Fool Hearted Gala fundraising event. It was a good night, with performances from this year's burlesque show, wearable art show, and a number of drag kings. Adrienne and I were actually there on official business, modelling Simone's Canadian Lingerie. (read: pink lace ski masks) There was food, bands, people, and a whole lot of great art for sale, including this screenprinted gala-poster that Seth and I made.

This commemorative poloroid features a very excited me, with Burlesque stars, and former figure skating legends Fancy Kerrigan, and Tanya Hardon. (who bear a striking resemblance to Simone and Adrienne) It was the best $5 I ever spent on a polaroid

Finally, last night at the Khyber was also the opening of Tamara's (famed member of Team Willow) show in the frame gallery. The show feature two large photographs of landscape costumes embedded in landscapes, as well as around 30 tiny soft-sewn landscapes, shown actual size at the top of this post, which were free for the taking!

As far as local weekly's go, The Coast is generally not half bad. I mean, sure their "lefty" editorials are sometimes a little weak in the "critical left" department, (although maybe that's my bias, and not their problem) and sure, they do tend to misquote people. (Which is "totally whacked") But I mean, they do keep me pretty up to date on what's going on locally (in Halifax) in just about every respect, art, film, theatre, sports, politics, etc.. And they hire local artists for illustrations, which is admirable, and which is where our story begins.

I got a call from the Coast's art director, [art director] asking if I would like to do an illustration for a story in this past week's issue about the 10 year anniversary of Kurt Cobain's suicide. I'm 23 years old, which means that I was 13 when Kurt died, which means that I was fucking devastated the day that I found out. Now, putting aside my cynical questions of why a local newspaper can't find enough local material to use as their cover story considering all other options, (ie: the 10th anniversary of a local artist run centre's annual fundraising gala) I do have a bit of a soft spot for this story. Come on, in 1993 you felt pretty god damned serious about it too, admit it.

So, despite being immeasurably busy, I accepted the illustration job, and [art director] and I discussed some of our ideas for themes. We decided that notebooks, journals, and highschool margin doodling should really be an important part of it. After finishing one idea, (a 9x5 illustration) the specs changed, and they now wanted a full page notebook, to place text into. No problem. I sent in all the components, sized properly to be assembled, and with the understanding that some minor shifting, and resizing may have to occur to accomodate text. There was still three days before the paper came out.

Thursday morning, I walked down the street to pick up my copy.
I flipped through to page 13, and what the hell?

This is what I sent to The Coast for publishing. (knowing some changes would happen)

This is what was published.

Look, I'm not trying to pull brat-styles here. And I don't mind being told if my work is no good. But if they weren't happy with the illustration, or if it wasn't going to work with the format, or the article, why not just tell me so, and assign someone else? Why in the world would someone hack up an illustration like that? That's not even my drawing.. In fact the only part on there that was my drawing is almost totally obscured, so why bother using anything at all. I have a hard time believing that spiral-bound notebooks are low in supply. I mean Christ. My name is on that, and I didn't make it. I had almost no part in it at this point.

And you would think that a fellow artist, art-school-grad, etc, would understand. If I were to fuck up [art director's] work like that, I think it's safe to say that [art director] would be less than pleased.

Ah, blogger, It seems like it's been years since we last danced that enchanted "I should really be doing something else" dance. In fact it has. Almost three years.
And after years of techno-isolation, free ad-based dialup connections, and being this close to garnering a BFA in sunny (read: rainy) Halifax, what did it take to get me back on the Blogger train?
A terribly imposing essay, due 3 days ago. (and that duedate being post-extension grant) Yes, if I've learned one thing in my four years of art school, if there's one skill above all others that I've mastered and honed to perfection, it's that of procrastination. In highschool, I considered myself a competant procrastinator. I wasn't the best, but I held my own. I kept the ever popular night-before essay terribly real, very nearly every time. But I'm proud to say that over the years, my procrastinating skills have increased tenfold, leaving many late-nighters in the dust.
And here, as a testament to my powerful time-wasting ability, in partnership with Lukas, my brother from another mother, I give you OptimusCrime: Halifax! It's a mighty future, A mighty, idle future.