Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Ian's Stubborn Vomit

Still there!

Saturday, March 26, 2005

The Weigh-in

I don't usually give a damn about the world around me. I leave the weight of the world for other people's shoulders but I feel the need to vent about a couple current UW issues.

WPIRG: Fuck em. Both Yes and No teams. Both sides are populated by sarcastic jackasses who don't move me one way or the other. It seems the Yes team are a bigger jackasses, or at least less ninja-like, what with them being disqualified and all. My vote's going to Team No care of Paul Lehmann's logic. The problem isn't WPIRG, it is the fee situation in general. That said, I also agree with Andrew Dilts that Feds should not officially support one side or the other.

I wonder who from the Yes team gets to keep the bill, now that they're getting zero reimbursement? I guess Weber had better start striking more FEDS fees, he's probably strapped for cash. Now, I am biased, but any douche who thinks that Imprint isn't a worthwhile investment is, well, a big fat douche. We should have a referrendum to strike Nick Weber from existance, or at least go back in time and abort him.
Abortion: Fuck em. The government should systematically eradicate all fetuses. Just kidding, although that's what Stephanie Grey thinks I believe when I say that I'm pro-choice. The Genocide Awareness Project is certainly one GAP that I don't want to fall into. That's where the Pro-lifers are getting those lovely T-shirts with the abortion pictures on them. I take issue with those shirts. They aren't changing anyone's mind, nor do barricades juxtaposing abortion and the holocaust; another Grey brain baby that should've met a coathanger(brutal? Perhaps. Apparenly two can play that game...). Are those picures even real? Who in their right mind would let someone photograph their aborted fetus? She showed a room full of debate spectators a whole video of abortions that could've easily been fake for all I know. Lies for lives? Is this a paw at the greater good? I've always found utilitarian morality to be a little, well, grey.

As for my official opinion on the subject: abortion is something I do everything in my power to avoid. Life is precious, but I have a tough time distinguishing 1st trimester fetuses from appendicies; they all look like organs to me. Of course, my opinion doesn't really matter. I've never had an unwanted pregnancy to deal with and therefore have no capacity to understand the issue fully.

I have a handful of ideas: I know I know nothing. I believe in choice. Practically speaking, with respect to the tangible consequences, an abortion is the same as an appropriately used condom(no unwanted child). The notion of abortion as birth control still scares me. We don't know if the soul exists at all, making it ridiculous to attempt to determine at what point a fetus has a soul. It is a sensitive subject; let's just say I don't plan to knock anyone up any time soon.

Gays in the military: my prognosis? Deeeelicious! Ok, I have no real opinion here.

There, that's my opinion. I hate having opinions, I'd rather just get along. Come on guys, I think we all could use a hug.

Friday, March 25, 2005

If Xante could use a phone...

Holy shit(happy Easter)! A lot has happened since my last post but I've been too busy with said happenings to report anything. I wanted to talk about a few things, here are the abridged versions

St.Paddy's Day: played guitar in Marat/Sade during a break from drinking; hit the dance floor in track pants and ugly-ass army boots.

Weekend after St.Paddy's: Imprint party: solicitied Ian's stubborn vomit(its still there!), showed up three hours late for a VOC training weekend that I'm directing (still the worst director ever!); crazy Marat/Sade cast party saturday. Verdict? Wicked couple of days.

Then there was the crazy stalker girl.

On thursday, before I hit the sauce, I was getting some pictures in Bomber. I had the half-baked idea to make some kind of photo-essay, despite the fact that I'm the worst photographer ever. So I'm wandering around getting pictures and at some point I end up talking to this girl who pulls the "I've been at UW for X years, and I've never been in Imprint once!" This is something I've heard a lot of since becoming staff and every time I hear it, I feel compelled to help right this tiny injustice. I was thinking of doing a campus Q(we ask a bunch of students one question, then publish answers with pictures of their faces) in Bomber, with hopes that the booze would "enhance" the answers (turning them into what I like to call enhanswers). So I said told her that if she came up with a good question and answer, I would put her in the paper. Time passed, she left and I came up with my own Q.

3 Days pass. I get a phone call and an e-mail to two of my accounts (I gave this girl nothing but my first name!) from her telling me that she had come up with a question. She tracked me down! Nobody ever calls me! It turns out that the reason she was so desparate to be in the paper had to do with the fact that she was running for Sci council or some shit. She wanted to appear on some public media out of the campaign period. She was trying to abuse my good nature for her personal political gains without offering me anything (sex/haagen daaz) in return.

Her answer wasn't even funny. The girl's last name is Printer, and her brother's first initials are HP. That was the whole joke. She's lucky I didn't sock her right in the ink cartridge. I ain't no partisan bitch, so I told her nicely to fuck off (I really was very nice). I want no part in strange scientific politics.

Time passes, it's wednesday, non-production night and all us Imprinters are at Bomber. I see her. Through some suggestion, I then decide that hitting on Ms Printer is an awesome idea. The girl already has my phone number! I'd be stupid not to. So I walk over to her, she sees me — there's eye-contact — she puts on a fake smile then decisively looks away. There was NO chance she would even talk to me. Oh well. Maybe next semester I'll call her at home and beg her to be in the campus Q. Little help Davenport?(you owe me one!)

I really hope she doesn't try to kill me. Death by printer wouldn't look too butch my tombstone.

P.S. Xante is the imprint printer...imprinter? but I'm an imprinter? Darren = Xante?! In that case, I apoligize for sucking so much.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Sex Life?

My addictions are all emotional ones. My love for this particular two-disc set is something I deal with on an ongoing basis. I don't just listen to them, I relapse.

I got back into Revelling/Reckoning, specifically the second disc Reckoning by stumbing into the opening chords to"grey" while I was screwing around on old singy. Its an incredibly simple song, but Ani Difranco is one of the few artists I don't automatically try to mimic; the only reason I didn't know it already. Once I realized that I could play it, I naturally had to put grey in the old songbook, which means digestion of the lyrics...which brings us here again.

I've figured it out. Assume that the human soul where emotion is from. Reckoning is sex for your soul ...and its fucking good sex too. I don't need to go into all the stages of courtship and compare them to the album, I'm sure that stuff fills itself in. The interesting part centers around grey. Grey is a song that succinctly captures that feeling of nothingness that we shouldn't feel, but sometimes do. Grey is definitely the initial orgasm.

It isn't an orgasm of pleasure though...its something else. Where sex = friction to your body resulting in pleasure, that song, and all of the album before it create friction with the soul resulting something I like to call an emorgasm. Its a tough sensation to distinguish from pleasure, as there is certainly pleasure involved in that I enjoy the music, but its obviously non-sexual ...catch my drift? Well I'm going to just move on before I get too lost here.

So there's an emorgasm, a catharsis if you will(although abuse of that word in Grade 12 drama class has left me eternally desensitized to it). It feels so good, then there is this feeling of release as it ends, and I don't feel like paying any attention to the next song, "subdivision". I just don't care. I'm sure its a good song, but even though I leave the CD on, I am just not paying attention to it. Its an emotional refractory period. Come to think of it, despite the number of times I have heard all of them, I couldn't name any of the four songs, with the obvious exception of subdivision, between grey and the next emorgasm on that album.

Yeah, there's two, that's why its fucking good sex. After the first, this album rests a bit, it hums softly to itself but soon its gentle caresses gradually become more intense, and next thing you know, you're at it again. This time its "school night" a song about choosing between two full, nearly equal loves and the tragedy that is the one left behind. This is the second emorgasm, follwed by track 14(the cigarette) then revelling(some playful cuddling and smiles all around) then the final track lulls you into a peaceful slumber.

I know that right now there is nobody in the world who seems in more dire need of a girlfriend, but believe me, this is just the relationship I have with good tunes. I apologize if I've confused or hurt anybody.

I should point out that lyrically, grey and school night are two of the best songs ever in my opinion. Geez that was long, I really am spent...

Saturday, March 12, 2005


geezez, the girl standing in my doorway looks SOOO Much better from behind! its crazy, walk behind her, and she's the hottest girl in the place, but see her face?....its downright deceptive...

KEg log 8:20 PM

Captain's note. Keggers = good.
Ok so I'm sitting in my room typing out a blogpost while theres a HUGGE party 4 steps to my right. It's great! not even 8:30 and I'm NFW(nicely fucking wasted, as opposed to BFW,PFW,RFW,RFW and HF; respectively Barelyfuckingwasted, prettyfuckingwasted,really fucking wasted,Really fucking wasted And my fave, Holy Fuck.) HAVE A KEGGAR, it means getting drunk for free in the comfort of your own house!!!
Logg out

More stuff!

1)47 Academy KEGGAR TONIGHT!

Ok, Academy Cres is off Old Post, Old post is off Westmount, right across from UW(REV). Coming from University Ave, its a left turn past all the colleges, from Columbia, its your first right. Once you're on Old Post, Academy is the first right.
These directions will also apply for next friday's Imprint fest!

Come see this play! its on wednesday to saturday next week I think. Its about crazy people making a play about the French Revolution. You'll hear me on the acoustic guitar, so of course that alone makes it worth checking out.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

All over the freaking place...

Holy Carp. How about this for a strange set of information.

The last time I saw her was at 2 AM wednesday morning, by 4PM I had heard of her accident. There isn't really much I can say that hasn't been said at Dilts' blog or somewhere else. The point is, she isn't well and I desparately hope she feels better soon. Hang tough, kiddo.

2)47 Academy Cres. Presents: Keggar/Poker tourney
i) Poker tourney starts at 1:00 PM this saturday
Buy in is $20
Entrant cap is 40, we've only got 8 spots left, so if you want in let me know ASAP

Prizes: anyone who makes it to the final table gets their money back at least, there are at least 32 people, so the winner is getting a whole shitload(of dollars).

ii)Keggar starts at 8-9ish, whenever people show up
$10 at the door gets you beer and mix drinks. We have 6 kegs, so there should be plenty.
If you need directions lemme know, I'd be happy to e-mail them to you.

3)Tex, wrapped
For those who don't know, Tex, my beloved, layout-laying friend/boss is retiring from Imprint for the remainder of the semester to focus on school. I think you made the right choice, Tex. I want you to know I'm routing for you, and hope to see you back in the summer/fall. In the meantime, I will rule features with granite fist!! none shall slip through!!! like that old saying, first features...THEN THE WORLD!! AHH HA HA H!!A...although rock-paper-scissors-with-Dean responsibilities have fallen to me, and I have yet to try anything but scissors...

4)Giggity Giggity!
Yeah, so Musselini's wants me and Skillz to play there for dollars. I can taste the dream!...tastes like easy-mac! More later, so ya'll can come check it out. First features, then Musselini's then...

5)...my bank account
basically Darren = zero dollars.
I'm not going to lie, it is frustrating. I think I'm actually in the hole because my rent cheque bounced by $0.04. Yikes.

Yeah so I'm riding the emotional roller coaster these days. Not much to do but keep all hands arms and legs inside the train at all times. Still though, I know my troubles seem trivial to the troubles of others I have mentioned. It is a strange guilty kind of comfort. I can't wait till we can all exit to our left, down the ramp, past the yellow line and enjoy the rest of our day.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Pangea Lost

There are probably thousands of things we take for granted. Part of our fragile human psyche depends on certain assumptions of constancy in our world. It all goes back to Maslow's hierachy; meeting basic security needs is necesary before one can even begin self actualization. We need to believe that the ground is solid before we can build anything on it. One thing we take for granted is the memories of things we have left behind.

Back in high school, I was in a rock band and we played at all of the school assemblies, talent shows and other events of the like. We weren't the only regulars though, in fact we were mere journeymen to the Aurora assembly scene (yeah, so it was the only shows we ever played, I don't care, I'm still calling it a "scene"), another band comprised of older more talented musicians always "headlined" any "gig" we played at. And by more talented, I mean VASTLY more talented. They were as legendary as you could get in a suburban high school. They blew me away every time I saw them and I was always honoured to warm the stage up for 'em. I will always have fond memories of that little aspect of my personal history.

I just found out the other day that this band that I once admired, is now broken up for good. I always thought that they would be guaranteed fame, and I could count on being able to say "I opened for those guys in high school" whenever their latest hit single came on the radio. But it seems castles made of sand melt into the sea...

It just goes to show you that your memory of something you haven't seen in a while is not an accurate, current representation of that thing. I go back to Aurora High School now and it is a completely different place. In my memory, Mr Steep still teaches history on the third floor across from the weight room. I can always find a friendly face in the student council office and everyone knows my name in the music hall. In reality I walk down those halls and I don't recognize a damned face. Everything I ever accomplished is forgotten and someone recognizing the lost look on my face, points me in the direction of the main office for me to sign in as a visitor to the place I once considered a second home...double doors on the left across from the entrance...yeah thanks, I used to go here actually...

Despite our assumptions, nothing ever stays the same, and you can never go back to the way things once were. Today I'm grateful for everything I have, and bitter for everything precious I have lost the question is, what does that make me now?

The band was Pangea, check them out, they were very good.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Abandoned Emptieness

We did it. My housemates and I finally disassembled our massive shrine to six months of consumption and intoxication and carted it to the beer store for that blessed monetary retribution. It took two cars and about six trips with that cart/dolly to get all of the bottles back into the beer store whence many of them came. It was cathartic, fuck it was the shit. The guys behind us thought they had a good stack, they only took one trip though. Ha. Ha ha. Ha.

We ended up getting a good stack of cash too. How much you ask? Somewhere around $103. Yeah...which, @ 10 cents a bottle works out to be OVER A THOUSAND BOTTLES. Heroic? yes, although I will admit, part of me was sad to see it go. It feels odd that my garage no longer smells like the beer store. I guess it just goes to show you, emptieness can always be exchanged for cold hard cash. Ask any poet.

So, with the empties gone, am I now full? not quite. which is why...



Hopefully it will be fulfilling.
More details later.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

I just need to get this out of my system...

Darren's Adventures with The Toilet:

2-ply Doom:
When I grew up, it was one-ply, all the time. Toilet paper is just one of those things my family can't justify paying more than the bare minimum for. Naturally I had developed very regimented habits — techniques rather — with respect to bathroom use, with a constant underlying assumption that it was 1-ply or no-ply.
So I was having a jam sesh with a drummer buddy of mine named Andrew at his house and nature calls. Now Andrew is an only child living with his single dad, so they have nice stuff when it comes general amenities. When there's only two of you, it makes sense to buy the softer, thicker TP, because you can usually get some good mileage out of it, roll to roll.
So he has 2-ply, and I treat it like 1-ply, meaning I use more of it to make sure my hand stays clean. In short, I clogged the shit out of that toilet.
Darren Hutz is not a man who is afraid of his own mess, so I grabbed the plunger and poof! problem solved, except that I was stuck wondering what to do with that poo-watery plunger. I just chucked it in the basement sink in the laundry room. Case closed! Or so I believed...
Before I continue this story, I should point out a few facts:
A) Andrew lives in a townhouse, so its generally narrow. The basement is only one room, so when I say 'laundry room, its really more like the 'laundry corner'
B) The basement is also the Jam-room, so to speak. Andrew's thousand dollar drums are down there, not far from the sink.
C) the washing machine empties into the sink.

So my elaborate plan was to remove the plunger from the sink and put it back where it belongs once it was sure not to drip my poo juice all over the place. I, of course, forgot to do so.
The next day Andrew informed me that I had left the plunger directly over the drain of the sink, somebody did laundry and flooded the basement. Apparently the puddle was mere inches away from poo-juicing Andrew's prized drums.

2) Hark, what piss through yonder urinal leaks?
Every year my high school did a trip to Stratford for play watching and whatnot. On the trip one year, after watching some great shakespeare (damnit I love shakespeare), I walked past all the well dressed wealthy-looking people eating haagen daaz to the bathroom to take a wizz. The bathroom was pretty crowded, apparently I wasn't the only one who drank a litre of ginger ale at second intermission. Now it was a guys washroom, so obviously there was no line, but it was close to needing one.
I pulled up to the urinal stall and was pleased to find a little maroon divider on either side of me, isolating me from neigbours quite nicely. I embraced the sense of security the divider granted and spreak my feet out, taking full advantage of the space.
As I'm enjoying the fanciness of it all, someone steps up beside me and I detect a sequence of three distinct sensations. 1) hear zip 2) feel splash 3) hear splash in urinal.
My first reaction was utter shock. My head that was tilted down, in a resting position, suddenly jolted up, staring straight forward, eyes wide. My body tensed up in consumate disgust. He had miss-fired out of the gate, right onto my naked sandled toes.
The guy corrected himself, finished, zipped up and left before I managed to regain my composure and become enraged. It was too late though, he was gone, and I had no face to punch.
Seriously though, what the fuck do you do when someone pisses on your foot? Beware the divider, I thought I was safe...