On Suicide

Many things have been said about suicide in the past couple of days, what with the death of Robin Williams and the fact that he was so beloved and touched and inspired so many people.

But the smartest thing came from my friend Yan, blogger (and songwriter) extraordinaire, and I will quote most all of it because just one part would not be enough:

A famous person committed suicide so of course tumblr and the rest of the internet is going to be filled with patronizing BS about suicide for the next several days.

I mean no disrespect to Robin Williams or to the people paying tribute to him, but please please please for the love of god spare me your saccharine messages about how suicide is never the answer.

This is a very unpopular opinion but I believe that sometimes suicide is the answer and I wish people would respect that choice. Yes, I know there’s mental illness involved and suicidal people are not always thinking clearly, but I can’t stand the way well-meaning people speak condescendingly to people who are suicidal.

Why can’t we just let people go with dignity? Why not accept the fact that sometimes people reach a point where the pain is so great that it completely obliterate all other consideration and there is only one way out? Yes it sucks for those who are left behind. I know because I’ve been left behind a few times. But don’t you think people who are suicidal already know that? That they will be missed? They’re not stupid babies. They are aware of the pain they are going to cause and they probably already feel a tremendous amount of guilt over it. But when your own pain reaches a certain point, that doesn’t matter anymore.

I don’t want to upset people and I’m certainly not advocating suicide, but stop treating people like babies.

I share that opinion. Deeply.

I find it very selfish for people to ''oppose'' suicide, and the same goes for hastags like #endsuicide. Like Yan said, apart from hurting loved ones - who likely will feel pain at other moments in their lives as well - where is the harm in taking your own life? Aren't there enough humans on earth for whatever purposes you had in mind? And what if this particular human felt they had done what they needed to, or all that they could have, or that every single one of their efforts led to no change for the best for anyone/anything? The species can afford one less, all the better if it's someone who doesn't feel like giving Life another try rather than, say, kids who are collateral damage in a shitty war no one will benefit from.

I say #keepsuicidealive. I'm pro choice. All the time.

That being said, R.I.P. Mr. Williams. I re-watched Death To Smoochy tonight, because it's one of his most under-rated films, and part of when he - as an actor - turned to darker roles rather than all-serious or all-comedy. Maybe I'll watch One Hour Photo tomorrow. And try not to kill myself on Thursday.

Video Of The Week: Katie Armiger

Yep, for the second straight week, I'm featuring a young, strong country singer - though this time her style fits completely with what you might have in mind when it comes to modern country music.

But like last week's bad-girl Nikki Lane, good-girl Katie Armiger has the confidence and swagger to party around flames, though in Armiger's case, it wasn't from burning a bad boyfriend's Harley, just ''regular'' pyrotechnics:



I mean, sure, she's pretty, but what hits me first and foremost is exactly the opposite: with 4 professional records in 4 years, hundreds of live shows and tons of people met who were as impressed with her talent as they were her looks - and all that at just 22 years of age - Katie Armiger has lived, in such a short time, what most people don't experience in a whole lifetime. And when a stunning woman has to deal with saying ''no'' more often than she does ''hello'', that builds character the likes of which men twice her age will never even come close to.

In the Playin' With Fire video shown above, she has that Leelee Sobieski / Jennifer Lawrence look going for her, but mixed with a dirty, working-girl attire, saying lines like ''I'm already crazy and I feel fine / as I cross this line between wrong and right'', ''I'm already lit and this ain't done yet'' and ''I like the burn''. And there's the look in her eyes in every close-up. And the totally sexual way she cranks up and uses that flame-thrower (in high heels, no less).

She's in control, and not much can stop her. I'd say the sky's the limit, but she can even shatter that if she wants to.

I first came to realize she existed when recording songs at Studio Loco in Montréal, where her Confessions Of A Nice Girl CD laid on a table. I put it on out of sheer curiosity and had expected ballads and cutesy, wholesome songs from the cover, but instead found well-written, beat-driven songs that I instantly connected with. I've been a fan ever since. Here's the cover art in question:

April's Blog Suggestions

I have met a lot of creative individuals in my lifetime, and vowed to stay informed and updated on/in their lives, then Life happened and it fell through.

But there are two of these people - who you may not have heard of, though you definitely should have - who have kept hacking at their dream and their voice while living normal lives and raising families and going through hardships, hard times, hard shit - and that I have moderately stayed in contact with.

In no particular order, here they are, both back in the blogging game.

First, Charlotte Martin. She is a terrific songwriter, an exceptional singer, and an even better human being. Married to Ken Andrews (formerly of Failure and Replicants, now a music producer and engineer) for roughly a decade, they have two children and live in California (though she is originally from Chicago). They take turns touring so that one can stay behind with the kids, and her fanbase and circle of friends often intertwines in an odd way that never would have been possible before the internet age. Because of that, she was able to survive and thrive even after ending her relationship with major label RCA.

You should also follow Enid-Raye Adams. She will likely write a lot less often than Charlotte, but every post will turn your life upside down. She hails from Western Canada and at some point decided it would mean a better life for her to return there, but in between she was probably on the verge of finding regular work in Hollywood; you may have seen her in Final Destination 2, The L Word, Dead Like Me, Babylon 5 and Slap Shot 2, but she has since played in a lot of TV series that were filmed in Canada, such as Fringe, The Haunting Hour and Arctic Air. She's an extremely smart person who isn't just a terrific performer but also has a couple of really good screenplays in her. She is also trying to juggle a family life with the added reality of hard economic troubles and a constant questioning of her place in the world, and her level of happiness.

They are both very open about their lives, especially their pain - though Enid-Raye perhaps more so than Charlotte, because she has this feeling that no one's reading her stuff and treats it like a diary that perhaps even her husband doesn't know about (if he does, I hope he doesn't find out about her state of mind through it at times), whereas CharMar feels like each of her readers is a close friend that she doesn't want to have worrying about her.

They are both extremely compelling and thought-provoking. And people you can't help feeling for.

Sochi On Tinder

Two weeks ago, I wrote about how athletes in Sochi had the technological advantage of Tinder to hook and and have athletic sex amongst themselves and use up the 100,000 condoms provided to them on-site.

Well, technology works both ways, and when you mix it up with bad reporting, social media, blogging and the general lack of privacy inherent to our times, what you get is a webpage whose sole reason for existing is to expose the athletes who have used the app, Sochi On Tinder.

Not just that, but it is still being updated today, 4 days after the closing ceremonies, which leads me to believe the Sochi Games were just the beginning of the intrusion into these athletes' lives.

Upon first glance, I was surprised to find that the men were far more likely to take their clothes off and display their goods in their introductory pictures than the ladies, especially considering that 'friending' someone on Tinder is pretty much the equivalent of buying them a drink a decade ago...

There were some disturbing ones, i.e. all of those who show their wedding pictures in their profile pics:

Either AZ Central's 12 News traffic reporter Emma Jade will have some explaining to do when her husband realizes what she likes to do when she's half a world away (she also went to the Beijing, Vancouver and London Games), or she's that good of a reporter, always willing to go under covers for the hard-hitting stories. Pulitzer Prize, anyone?

(See what I did there? I criticized a website for going too far, then did some investigative journalism myself and pushed the envelope a little further, but mine was less voyeuristic and more sleezeball/who-cares-how-many-lives-I-destroy-as-long-as-I-get-to-The-Truth, no-conscience journalism. Pulitzer Prize, anyone?)

(See what I did there? I made the same joke as in the previous paragraph.)

R.I.P. Cassandra Lynn Hensley

(reposted from my collectibles blog)

R.I.P. Cassandra Lynn Hensley, who died two nights ago following an evening where cocaine and champagne were consumed after a time of not feeling well. She was 34 and leaves behind a daughter.

I didn't know the February 2006 Playboy Playmate Of The Month, but I do know models who did, and this has come as a shock to two of them in particular.

Her Twitter account still updates with her automatic daily horoscope, and the one published just hours after her death turns out to be eerie in retrospect:

Unspoken obligations prevent you from doing what you wish today. No matter what you do now, you might not feel completely fulfilled. Working harder isn't the answer, but neither is escape.

As a tribute, here is a card I got in a box of Benchwarmer's 2006 Holiday cards, an autographed insert (#15 of 16):

Full-Service Mail Truck

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Writing

Writing; it's a hell of a beast. Yes, I meant writing, not writers. Writers are a disparate bunch, but most of those who consider themselves to be writers have this idealized preconceived notion that it's a glamorous way to kill oneself through poverty and acclaim, when it is often one and rarely the other, and almost never done in the spotlight.

The spotlight kills, always has, always will. Not just writers, but thinkers too. Very few revel in it, and most who do do so fort such short periods of time hat it's irrelevant. From a three-movie career (hello, James Dean) to a decade of high-level sports success (Patrick Roy, Wayne Gretzky), they are shooting stars in a world of dead planets.

So, no, this won't be about writers.

The action of sitting down to put thoughts into words drives a few of us to the brink of (in)sanity, usually because it causes us to exist on a parallel plane, one in which we have time to ourselves, one in which we can afford to take a moment and not make a living for a while. Time is often more an enemy than inspiration, which can be triggered. You can't invent hours, make them up from scratch when you've run out - if so, one could harness that skill to create immortality. And yet some dedicate their lives to this... but, of course, I digress. Which I do so often I'm probably an evil mastermind in a poor sci-fi movie.

Where I meant to go was here, to a blog post by Kelly Kay, a friend-of-a-friend I met at an UnPop show I put on three or four years ago, someone I would have liked to get to know better but probably scared instead. Which is fine, because I already have all the friends-I-don't-have-the-time-to-be-around that I can handle.

Like myself, Kelly's a film grad who loves music, particularly of the live variety, and who, in an ideal world, would get paid to write whatever's on her mind. except her mind is twisted, violently, because she spends way too much time over-analyzing stuff like Lana Del Rey as a fictional, built-up character personalizing America; it's at once mesmerizing, compelling and haunting - not the subject matter, but the depth to which she dives into it. It's a heck of an interesting read.

1000 Posts (!)

I can't believe I used my 1000th post to write about a dumb story about humans preferring sex and alcohol to religion and work.

I started this blog about six years ago, and have witnessed a shitload of stuff. I saw a bird committing suicide; I broke my back and farted in someone's face; I went to Cuba and had the best time of my life; did nothing - not even move - for 15 straight hours; went on 3-to-5-day sleepless stints more times than I can count; challenged Murphy's Law and lost - time and time again; and again; I've been let down and got back up; I almost fucking died.

I played solo shows, shows with my band, with experimental projects, with ''bands made of friends''. Even played in a Velvet Underground cover band. I even stole the show by just being a guest on one song.

I could have written about anything old, anything new, and I chose a bottom-drawer story.

What I should have done is thank you, anyone who would read this, whoever you are.

Model Citizen

As an ''old'' guy in my early 30s, I remember the days before the internet, where it was virtually impossible for a guy in Winter Wonderland to come into contact with California a top model who will fact-check his blog post herself.

This is exactly what happened to me when Kirsty Lingman (also known as Kirsty Lingman Santos) did so on my Collectibles blog.

There is no time like the present.

Live-Blogging A Triple-Tooth Extraction

It's been a surreal week so far, with only one day of work, a death in the extended family, and an appointment to extract teeth - I didn't know until the last minute if it'd consist of one, two or three leaving my mouth. Turns out I went for three, all top-left, all in the back (starting with the molar, we're letting my wisdom tooth grow).

My appointment was originally for 7:30 PM on Thursday, but they called me on Tuesday to postpone it to 8PM. Here's how it went:

5:15 PM - They call me, asking me to come in earlier. They offer 6:30 PM, but that's too early and there's no way I'd be able to make it in time; we settle for 7 PM.

5:45 PM - I leave the house. I know for a fact that I won't be able to eat for 24 or 48 hours after the act, so I stop by McDonald's for a quick, unsatisfying bite. I take a third-pound angus burger, but forgo taking the trio (drink and fries) for the extra $3 because it's a rip-off. And I don't feel like spending over $10 on a McD's meal.

6 PM - I get on the subway.

6:20 PM - off the subway, wait for the bus, that's 20 minutes away.

6:25 PM - I get thirsty and start looking for a convenience store, but there are none in sight. I settle for a bowling alley, and buy a $3 (can't make that shit up) small bottle of 7Up. Should have taken the fucking meal, I would have had more to drink...

7 PM - I get to the dentist's.

7:05 PM - I'm sitting in the chair, getting my shots of anesthetic.

9 PM - I'm done. A quick stop at a pharmacy for painkillers (percocet!) and my dad drives me home.

9:10 PM - I take my meds and watch TV.

MIDNIGHT (Friday morning) - I start feeling pressure on my teeth - a bit in the hole where my old teeth used to be, kind of the same pain as the toothaches I used to have - but I also feel something in my front teeth, I guess she was pressing against them for leverage in taking the other ones out, but now those were annoying me. I guess the anesthetic has worn off.

3 AM - Time for bed.

6 AM - An incredible thirst comes over me, so I get up to chug a liter of mineral water. Then back to bed. Can't sleep. Fuck.

9 AM - Pill time. I get up, with just a minimal amount of pain in my face, less than a toothache, more like the pain you get when you have a small cavity. This could be less bad than I'd heard. Back to bed for what should be a couple of hours. Waking up at noon would make sense.

3 PM - Drowsy, but feel I should get up, if only to take my anti-inflammatory meds. Decide to order wonton soup to go along with it. Great fucking idea, I rule. Let's watch La Galère with the Former Lady Of The House.

4 PM - I've had enough of that show, would rather play Civilization.

6 PM - Feel drowsy again, I'll nap a while.

9 PM - Up in time for meds and supper. I'll have garlic-and-herbs pasta (I'm tired of tomato-based sauces for the time being). Will watch Family Guy (Season 10).

11 PM - tired, off to bed.

3 AM (Saturday Morning) - Jesus Christ. The place where my teeth used to be hurts, similar to a tooth ache, except without the physical presence. Is it all in my mind? Also, the left side of my face has swelled and feels the same as having an abscess, except I don't have one, I'd feel it with my tongue, and I don't. On the plus side, it's time for my meds.

3:30 AM - Can't fall back asleep, although the pain has subsided a bit. It's definitely tolerable, in any case, so I guess I'll play Civilization until I can go back to sleep.

9 AM - Shit, time for more meds. I guess I should try to get back to bed.

2 PM - Woke up drowsy, but it'd be a shame to waste the whole day in bed, so  I'll get up. I'll make myself some shitty McCain tiny pizzas for lunch, they'll be ready for meds-time (3PM). I guess I should clean up a bit, too. I'll start with vacuuming the hall and living room.

News From Tila Tequila

Remember Tila Tequila?

The former MySpace click champion (and subsequently Reality TV ''star'') has taken to blogging, and has clearly lost her mind:

I DECLARE A WAR BUT NO SOLDIERS, JUST ME, THE PEOPLE, AND ALL OF YOU SO CALLED ILLUMINATI, ELITIST COWARDS! I HAVE ALL YOUR SECRETS, I AM MUCH WISER THAN I WAS BACK THEN WHEN YOU F-CKED ME OVER SO BAD I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO JUST DIE FROM ALL THE PAIN YOU ORCHESTRATED AND INFLICTED UPON MY SOUL! MY TILA ARMY AND THE WORLD AT LARGE HAS YOU WAAAAAAAAY OUT NUMBERED!!

SHOULD I TELL THEM ABOUT THE SUPER HUMANS THAT EXIST AND ALL OF THOSE EXPERIMENTS YOU DO ON THEM TO USE THEIR POWERS FOR YOUR OWN BENEFIT?  SHOULD I TELL THEM THAT IS WHY SO MANY “MISSING CHILDREN” POP UP EACH YEAR BECAUSE YOU SADISTIC F-CKS WERE THE ONES BEHIND IT??! AGAIN, THERE ARE STILL PLENTY OF US OUT HERE WITH SUPER POWERS AND I WILL GATHER THEM ALL TOGETHER AND YOU EVIL PRICKS ARE ALL GOING DOWN!!!
SO WHAT IF YOU ARE ALIEN HYBRID? THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU OWN US!

SHALL I TELL THE PEOPLE ABOUT THE ENTIRE CITY INSIDE THE HOLLOW EARTH??? SHALL I TELL THE PEOPLE THAT YOU CAME HERE AND LEFT YOUR OWN PLANET TO INFILTRATE OURS AND NOW SOME OF YOU STILL CURRENTLY RESIDE ON THE MOON!

And if you thought that was bad:

(...) Aside from that, I was also indeed “JOAN OF ARC” in another one of my past lives!!!!!  It makes so much sense now!  I mean, Joan of Arc and myself share incredibly similar things!

Uh, yeah. Please... go on...

Everything I talk about now, it is only and always in the 5th dimension frequency!  For instance I cannot relate to anything here on Earth anymore.  Everything I speak of is always in a very spiritual manner and My “HUMAN 3rd dimension body” is CONSTANTLY disappearing and reappearing all the time now!

I WILL be disappearing soon in the new Kingdom of God in the 5th Dimension back to my true light soul once again, and I shall be disappearing VERY SOON!  The only reason why I am still here, when indeed I have already given my certificate to Enter the new Kingdom of God, but I choose to stay here just for a little longer because it would hurt me deeply (just because I have been granted access to the 5th Dimension and given my “GALACTIC CARD” to travel to all 12 dimensions) doesn’t mean I can just leave you guys here and forget about you!  I told you this once before and I shall say it again, “I HAVE NEVER LEFT YOU NOR WILL I EVER LEAVE YOU!”

That's the stuff!

Some other titles of her recent posts include ''The Government Are Cloning Humans and Themselves! ZOMBIES ARE REAL!'', which includes the amazing quote:

The human race is possessed by demons. (...) These beings are mentally sick, upside down and follow a perverse goal of death instead of life.

George W. Bush died in 1987 and was carried on through secret laboratories (Area 51 etc.) as a zombie henceforth.

Well, it takes one to know one. Not the zombie thing, the mentally sick part.

Relationships

It starts with wisdom about relationships and ends in bittersweetness, as most things do.

My friend Yan's at it again, writing a heartfelt open letter to the void that is human existence. You can't ever go back, get back what you had, because the only constant is change, and you can't unsee what you've seen, unhear what you've heard, unsay what was said, unscrew who was fucked.

There is only, always, moving on. From things, but also from nothings.

Joe's Week In Comics

I have a friend, Joe Chamandy, who is a musician in Montréal bands. He's also a coveted poster artists because he has a style that's ''all his'', which consists of childlike drawings on normal, ligned paper. He does them for his band's shows, but also for others, such as Pop Montreal.

Well, now he's back in school and wants to tell us all about it, but instead of blogging ''normally'', he did so in the form of drawings...

It's pretty cool, when you think of it.

''Introducing'' The Musical Stylings Of Jordi Rosen

I told you about my sometime-bandmate Jordi Rosen a few times already, but I'd like to mention she now has a blog/site - complete with videos and stuff, all as she is nearing completion of her most recent album.

She deserves the attention - and she's just going to get more, so jump on the bandwagon and go listen to her heartfelt eclectic sounds today!

Protesting

There's a general feeling of unrest in the streets of Montréal of late, in great part due to the faltering politics and political system, but exacerbated by the provincial government to raise the cost of university education, to bring it closer to the Canadian average, when the average income in our province is still way below what it should be. As a matter of fact, of the 15 biggest cities in Canada, 5 of the bottom 7 in terms of quality of life/disposable income per capita are from Québec.

To make matters worse, local law enforcement has gone way over the line in terms of brute force, displaying some of the worst police brutality this city has known in perhaps a decade; the cops are targeting the students harder than they did rioters in the past 3 riots worth mentioning (2008, 2009 and 2010).

On a larger scale, protesting as a way of expressing oneself is quickly becoming a no-no in North America in general, as authorities fear losing control. More and more, they order cops to repress protesters, jail them for no reason, anything to discourage them from taking action - and anything to make them look like criminals when the TV cameras come, to sway public opinion against them. And sometimes it even works.

Although that may change, now that one kid might lose his fucking eye as a result of receiving a noise grenade right in the face. Impatience now grows on both sides:



Just a reminder that demonstrating, in a democracy, is as vital a way of expressing displeasure as voting, only it isn't reserved for adults. It is a right that was granted to most people 50 to 100 years ago and has lead to civil advancements in women's rights, racial inequities, worker compensation, dignity and human rights. Why the Powers That Be are so afraid of it when it would shut us up to give us our candy once in a while still mesmerizes me, but not everyone was born with a high IQ or the ability to reflect on issues that concern the greater good.

R.I.P. Whitney Houston

Black History Month is being tough on the American music community. First Don Cornelius, now Whitney Houston... Prince, Hammer and Will Smith had better keep a low profile.

There's a fitting tribute on HelloGiggles.

See her last performance here.

Canadian Splendo(u)r

My friend Yan is a musician, smart, cool guy and an idealist.

He writes about comics on his comics blog, but also offers onlookers a ''daily recap'' into his life. Kind of like following Harvey Pekar, daily, without the images.

Blogger's Jinx

Read this.

First you'll think ''geez, is he a psychic''?

Now re-read his last 2 paragraphs. And hope all the people he's mentioning aren't getting jinxed!

Lack Of Gonzoisms

I'm at my best when I write angry, or in total fucking pain. I know that.

When I'm only mildly in pain - as has been the case in the past few months - my writing becomes more static, more common, it loses its edge, part of its meaning, and most of its personality.

That's why I've been keeping away from the keyboard a bit, because I don't feel like submitting (all 4 of) my readers to sub-par writing. And because I haven't drank in over a month.

My best friend Alex, from Mexico, has been trying to encourage me to write at least one post a day, but I can't bring myself to do it. I'll try, for realz, but I don't want this once-pride-worthy blog to dip below the Mason-Dixon line of what I can stand to have my name attached to.

But worry not: the (Federal) Tax Man has come asking me for $7500 I don't have, so I'm bound to get pissed off soon enough...

I Must Be In Constant State Of PMS...

... because so many of these rants felt like I could have written them.

Thanks, Ms. Scarlett.