2009 in Review

Albums:
stellastarr* “Civilized”
Morrissey “Years of Refusal”
Maria Taylor “LadyLuck”
Passion Pit “Manners”
Dirty Projectors “Bitte Orca”
Fanfarlo “Reservoir”
Julian Casablancas “Phrazes For the Young”
Paramore “brand new eyes”
Neko Case “Middle Cyclone”
Bat For Lashes “Two Suns”
Yeah Yeah Yeahs “It’s Blitz”
Tegan & Sara “Sainthood”
La Roux “La Roux”
Julian Plenti “Julian Plenti”

Songs I’m surprised I like:
Creed “Rain”
Britney Spears “3″
Lady Antebellum “Need You Now”
Lady Gaga “Bad Romance”
John Mayer “Heartbreak Warfare”
Zac Brown Band “Toes”

Films:
Star Trek
(500) Days of Summer
This Is It
Up!
Harry Potter & the Half Blood Prince
GI Joe (a lot better than “Wolverine: Origins” & “Transformers 2″)
Yeah, I didn’t go out to the movies much

Comic Books:
The Unwritten
daytripper
Greek Street
The Wonderful World of Oz
The Marvelous Land of Oz
The Boys
Green Lantern (the whole “Blackest Night” series is sick!!!)
Daredevil
Echo
Rasl
Air
Sweet Tooth
20th Century Boys
Scott Pilgrim

TV shows:
Glee
Big Bang Theory
V
FlashForward
Dexter
Heroes
Lost
24
nip/tuck

Fun shit that happened:
Going home
New Yankee Stadium & the Yanks winning the World Series
my bro’s engagement!
Jenny & Don’s wedding
Meeting Ami & Micky Dolenz
car accident
Morrissey canceling his Florida dates
catching a Rays games in the MillerCoors seats

I’m sure I’ll add to this as the year draws to an end. I’ve got Vicks Vapo-Rub on my chest and under my nose & a cough that sounds bronchitis-like. Ughh.

Rather than watch telly, I think I’ll put on my iPod on shuffle and read “Daytripper” and the latest “unwritten.”

Where the hell did this year go?

Here We Go Again.

I’ve started to compile a to-do list in honor of the 37th anniversary of my escape from the womb. I’m sure they’ll also fall into the category of 2010 resolutions. Right off the bat: write more.

When I say “write more,” I mean in a notebook. Pen and paper. What a concept. I won’t dismiss blogging but I think the more I share out here, one day may come back to bite me in the arse. I’m sure you heard about the depressed lady in Canada whose doctor prescribed “fun” to help her condition? In case you didn’t, her insurance company dropped her benefits because they saw pictures on her faceBook page which showed her smiling. As I get older, I think it may be time to become a little more guarded with what I share. The late nineties up until just a few years ago, I was a slightly crazed “don’t give a fuck” kind of guy. I would like to say I’ve grown out of that period. Insert canned laughter here.

I keep thinking of Tiger Woods’ recent transgressions and all I can say is . . . yup.

Writing also means getting those crazy fiction ideas out of my head and on to paper too. I understand I’ve said I would for the past decade, but hey, a guy can dream. And I think I’ve got some good ones.

Running is another endeavor I’d like to undertake. First, I’ve got to have a physical–I’ll take the two-finger special please. I want to make sure my asthma won’t be a hinderance. All I need are the sneaks Forrest Gump wore on his cross-country trek and I’ll be set.

My goal is to be as physically fit as Warren Cuccurullo in his forties. Again, insert laugh track. I told you I could dream some good ones.

There you have it: writing and running. Two immediate goals. I’ll keep you posted.

Next entry: my upcoming doctors visit. Maybe I should go for the three-finger special?

Watch This Space, part II

I promise I’ll find my muse. Have a filling Thanksgiving. I thank you for checking in on my blog. It’ll be worthwhile. Soon.

From the archives: 2006

“My September 11th, 2001 memory: I couldn’t tell you what concert I worked the night before, but I recall waking up to the news of a plane hitting one of the Twin Towers, groggily witnessing the second plane hit and thinking, “What the fuck?” after screaming into the other room “Holy shit another plane crashed into the towers!”

Two hours later, we found out we were having a baby girl. That news alone floored me . . . the shit happening everywhere else made me question if bringing another innocent into this world was a smart thing to do.

And that’s my 9-11 memory. Now share yours . . .”

What’s playing in my head.

Good grief. Last entry made me sound really emo. Let’s lighten the mood by sharing what’s playing on my iPod:

1. “Into the Void” Kiss
2. “The Chauffer (live)” Duran Duran
3. “It Won’t Be Long” The Hives
4. “Anywhere’s Better Than Here” The Replacements
5. “Back 2 Good” Matchbox Twenty
6. “Who the Fuck?” PJ Harvey
7. “H” Julian Plenti
8. “Information Travels Faster” Death Cab for Cutie
9. “Look Down” The Monkees
10. “Cry Me a River” Glen Hansard
11. “Terry’s Song” Bruce Springsteen
12. “You’re Full of Shit (Check Out My Sweet Riffs)” Giant Drag
13. “I Hurt You” The Pretenders
14. “Commerce, TX” Ben Kweller
15. “Way To Go” Flesh For Lulu
16. “Heaven Know I’m Miserable Now” The Smiths
17. “You’ve Been Flirting Again (live)” Bjork
18. “Heart-Shaped Box” Nirvana
19. “Shoplifters of the World Unite (live)” Morrissey
20. “Morning” Lennon

“If I could find my way back home, where would I go?”

I never aspired for greatness.

While this may be a very jaded self point-of-view, it just makes sense. Competition was never my strong suit. I never played sports growing up. I was a B-average student all throughout school. I found contentment in being mediocre.

My 37th year approaches. What do I have to show for it so far? My mental inventory doesn’t look promising.

Watch This Space.

I’ll admit it. I’ve been slacking off. Very badly.

Summer 2009 was an opportunity for me to go home and reconnect, refresh and reclaim some sanity. Too much of the “real world” bringing me down. I needed a break before I broke down.

I kept a vacation blog on my FaceBook page. FaceBook, what a trip. So many faces from the past have resurfaced–all for the good. Friendships once lost, now at least have the opportunity to be rekindled. Maybe.

Where did 2009 go?

Time waits for no one. Time to get up off my arse. And my soapbox.

But did I even really say anything worthwhile?

She Walks On Me.

You’ve seen it. The kid screaming, pitching a fit in the middle of the mall, the DMV or any box-store of choice vs. the parent, trying to keep it together. “Nothing to see here, mind your own fucking business.” The attempts to calm the child down. “I’ll buy you some candy, pick out a toy, your medication’s in the car, do you want me to make a scene?”

And you stand there watching. Thinking. “If that was my kid, I’d . . . ” What? What would you do? What could you do?

Give them the silent stare or raise a hand, pop them on the mouth, smack a wrist. Threaten them with “wait ’til we get home!” For what exactly?

Waking up two hours earlier than the alarm to screaming and crying that doesn’t require a bottle or diaper change. How much longer can that go on for?

How many times can you repeat the Serenity prayer until desperation takes hold? It’s not even the alcohol that’s the real problem. The problem is you.

It’s getting to be too much.

“I am the 18th pale descendant . . .

. . . of some old queen or other!”

Chalk it up to singing along fearlessly to the Rusholme Ruffians, a Morrissey/Smiths tribute band, which prompted lead singer Nicole to hold the mic in front of me for my public singing debut while the band chugged through “The Queen is Dead.”

During the bridge of “How Soon is Now,” Nicole told me, “since you know the words, you’re going to sing the chorus.” She finished the song so I figured I was off the hook. Wrong. Guitarist Jay Stamper strummed the intro to “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” and Nicollissey informed the audience that I’d be assisting.

As the chorus approached, I stood up and belted it out: “And if a double-decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die . . .” I warbled through it without fear. The second time the chorus rolled around, I even did a little dancing with Nicole. I hope someone had taped that bit (I’ll be scouring youTube later).

All this to celebrate the birthday of a 50-year old geezer. I mean, ICON!

I attribute years of wearing out cassettes on the boombox my mum gave me in 1987. And sitting alone in my room, in the dark singing along to the Smiths, Joy Division, the Cure, etc.

On another positive, there was a “draw Moz” contest as well as trivia. Guess who won the 1st prize drawing? I need to get a bigger frame for my “Meat is Murder” win. Oh yeah, trivia? My new friends Lili and Marissa answered all but one correctly and scored “Years of Refusal” on vinyl (again) as well a a gift certificate to Ethos Vegan Kitchen AND a YOR poster.

I didn’t win any of the raffle prizes, but I had a blast! I even got a “nice job singing” from a Filipino boy at the next table. Represent.

Happy 50th birthday Morrissey, wherever you’re celebrating!!!

I think I am in a funk

This blogging thing is pretty sporadic for me recently.

Not much to report really. I never did go to the Alkaline Trio show, opted on saving my concert-going for NEW YORK DOLLS in June. Yeah, that’s a better show.

Speaking of NY, my family came down for too short of a visit. Mum wants my brood to come up there this summer. We’ll see . . . I definitely want to go!

Morrissey’s 50th birthday is tomorrow. A vegan joint downtown is hosting a soiree to celebrate the festivities, I shall definitely attend that! Call it Morrissey social networking.

CDs you must hear: the eponymous release of The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, “Abnormally Attracted to Sin” Tori Amos, “Cuz I Sez So” New York Dolls, “Actor” St. Vincent and the remastered version of “I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got” Sinead O’Connor.

Show you must watch: “Glee”

Comic you must read: “The Umbrella Academy” & “Incognito”

Favourite movie this summer (so far): STAR TREK

Book I’m going to read next: “Pygmy” Chuck Palahniuk

Website you need to check daily: fmylife.com

I don’t know what else to write about . . . fatigue is setting in and I just want to put on my headphones and drift off to sweet slumber. Maybe I’m just in a funk from all this rain. Yeah, that’s it.

“Not renowned for my patience, I’m not renowned for my restraint”–Depeche Mode The Sinner In Me