we can live on misbehavior

Anyone in the London area: you must visit MAGMA. Last time I popped in, they were playing the Arcade Fire. There is nothing more overwhelming than hearing Rebellion (Lies) while discovering that Loretta Lux has published a book.

NOTHING.

Polish Movie Posters

I've switched computers so many times that my "favorites" list is constantly in disarray. I continually re-discover sites that have gone missing along the way, which is actually kind of nice, because it's like seeing an old friend again for the first time.

Today's treasure, unearthed from the attic: the Polish Poster Gallery.

I originally discovered a few of these posters in a small shop somewhere in Edinburgh, about six or seven years ago. I was in awe, and got all excited and jumpy like I have been known do when I see something I love.

However, it was not meant to be. Once again, due to the pesky Canadian dollar, if I wanted to eat, I was in no position to purchase a Polish movie poster from Edinburgh. I satiated my appetite with three postcards, which have been a fixture on my walls ever since.

Some people think the imagery is creepy. Some think it's intriguing. I find it breathtaking. Movie posters have turned into bland, clichéd vehicles for advertising the latest Hollywood heartbreakers, typically accompanied with horrible typography.

These posters don't look shiny and new as all things produced by MGM typically do; but you no longer have to be ashamed of having a Spaceballs poster on your wall.

The benefits of jamming the zipper on your jeans so badly that you have to keep them closed with a pin all day

1. I never have to worry about whether or not my fly is undone.

2. I managed to successfully kill 45 minutes of my work day, attempting to pry the zipper free.

3. It proves that there is actually a reason why we wear underpants.

4. It's 80's chic to hold your fly together with a safety pin.

5. I officially get to go shopping this weekend.

6. Not shaving my armpits this morning is no longer such a big deal.

7. I now have justification for obsessively carting around with me a plethora of safety pin and fastening devices.

8. I have rediscovered the beauty of the button-fly.

9. It's 35 degrees outside. Two words: AIR CONDITIONING.

10. Look at that, it gave me something to write about.

My love affair with the Lily

I'm due to return to the homeland for a few weeks a the end of August, and I've been compiling a list of things I normally can't afford, to pick up when I'm home.

Life with a crap exchange rate has been fun and all, but don't think for a second that I am not loving every minute of life with the British Pound. For the first time in my life, I can support the lovely crafty folk in the US & Canada without having to sell my hair or mortgage my couch.

The first stop I make, after doing the important stuff, like - you know, seeing my family, will be made at Purr, in Calgary Alberta. Amongst other beautiful things, Purr stocks lovelies by my favorite Canadian designers, Smoking Lily.

I've had an intense crush on Smoking Lily since the day I laid eyes on her in 1997. I was aimlessly wandering around Victoria B.C., towing a boyfriend who would have preferred to be at Madam Tussauds, when I stumbled across a teensy store front packed to the rafters with printed bits. I purchased the first of what would be many on that day; a tank top with black beetles ambling across it. It was love at first sight, and although the passion between my boyfriend and I soon fizzled, my love for Lily will never die.

They've updated their site, so go on, spoil yourself. Just save some for me.

Happy Birthday, Gregory Frank

Happy Birthday, G.
You can correct my grammar anytime. Anytime.

Big kisses, doll.

I like this song

Since the last post has been hovering around for a few weeks now, I thought I would keep with the theme and update with another music-related post.

Anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that I am completely useless when it comes to remembering song titles. It's not for lack of trying; many a time I have made a deliberately conscious note to remember the title/artist/album for a particular song that I like, but for whatever reason, I just don't retain this kind of knowledge. Without fail, a few days after initially hearing a song, I will undoubtedly say, "I like this song, who is this?".

I find this insanely frustrating.

I love music, but haven't always loved it. My first tape ever owned was by the California Raisins, and I shudder to think that I was once a NKOTB fan. Not just a NKOTB fan. I wrote them letters. I had t-shirts. It was more than a crush. This pattern repeated itself for the majority of my youth, with purchases of increasingly humiliating albums such as several by Jon Secada.

It wasn't until I met my wonderful friend Jason that I was properly introduced to the world of music beyond the California Raisins. While he did shake his head at my cd collection, the highlights of which were an under-appreciated Peal Jam album, the Joshua Tree and the Forest Gump Soundtrack, he still remained my friend, and so much more.

It was through Jason that I learned the beauty of going beyond the top 10 at 10 to discover that there was an entire universe of music I'd not been exposed to. I discovered the Cure, John Lennon, the Pixies, the Smiths, Miles Davis, Radiohead, Rufus Wainwright, the Velvet Underground. Who new that music created pre-1997 could be so good?

He made cd after cd for me, filled with music that inspired me, made me crave more. Before this, music had always been filler. It was something you put on before having sex alongside lighting candles. It was something to keep you awake on the highway. It was a way to block out the noise of living in a dormitory.

Simply put, Jason gave my life a soundtrack.

I can never go back to the days of copulating to Jon Secada, and I don't think I really want to. Once you get it, once you really get it, you can't give it up. I still have an appreciation for cheesy pop and have been known to bop around my flat to Abba, but my perception of music has changed dramatically. It has changed me dramatically.

There have been others who have entered my life and tweaked my musical tastes, taught me about "lo-fi acoustic" music and how the lyrics of a song are sometimes the best part, but never to the dramatic extent that Jason did. He breathes music.

Music can shape your life.
And that's worth remembering.