Artistic Fruition

Last night at practice I was so happy and excited that my heart exploded all over the wall...

100 posts

What a nice rainy hermity day. I've listened to every PJ Harvey Album, cleaned my appartment, organized my closet, resequenced my party dresses...

In honour of PJ and 100 posts, I changed my title back to what it was originally. My first post mocked the emo/emotional exhibitionism/ lame ass-ness of the 'blog'...jesus christ. Sorry to put you all thru that. Gross. Happliy, my emo phase has come and gone; it is now summer and everything rules.

I had an afternoon of nothing to do at work, earlier in the week. Eventually I'd gone thru all the Vogue slideshows of the summer runway collections (ps-Lanvin, great work), so I crafted a response to Beardo’s letter to the editor i.e. me:

Criticality and Me
An Essay for Beardo

Let’s keep in mind that nobody likes a phony. And by nobody I mean me. Let’s consider Gandhi’s maxim- ‘be the change you want to see in the world’. To most, this is just another version of the golden rule. But maybe I want a world without phonies. Maybe I want a world full of people with backbones. Yes, I do. Even if people’s feelings get hurt or offense is taken. We all have opinions, we might as well be open about it; some are just better than others at being polite about it.

I can’t tell you exactly when I became an impolite loudmouth. Maybe it was when I told my mom I didn’t want any fucking casserole, after my first week of kindergarten, when I was five. Or, maybe it was when I got in trouble for mouthing off to the yard duty teacher for being a bigot because he was segregating the boys and girls soccer games at recess:

Dougie was more effeminate than the other boys who would tease him or not let him play at all. I told Dougie to play with us anyway because the rule was stupid. The teacher came over and sent me stand against the wall for the whole lunch hour, at which point I called him ignorant and sexist and threatened that I would get him fired.

I went home that afternoon infuriated and sat down at the computer and drafted a formal complaint against this teacher. I was nine. You see why everyone expected me to be a lawyer? So, let’s just say, if my mom, with various graduate degrees in child psychology and education couldn’t talk some sense into me then about how there are better ways to express myself than namecalling/threats/beligerent indignance, I don’t think I’m ever going to learn how to zip it when appropriate. And yes, I do realize that I often believe that my opinion is pretty much paramount to everything and everyone. So what. It’s fun.

A lot of my friends have critical taste that can be pretty harsh. While some would deem this as a ‘negative attitude’ (or in my case, ‘fuckin bitch’), I disagree. I view it as discerning- even when I don’t agree with them. But there seems to be an undercurrent of fear for not liking something that several other people do in a small city. After all, so and so likes them; or so and so works there, and you wouldn’t want to offend that; so and so is friends with so and so in that band that’s really cool with the so and so. Especially in the past, my opinions have alienated a lot of people and I sort of (yeah, just sort of) regret being so over the top and judging things prematurely, before I’d given them a chance. And, as a result, I have enemies, apparently, whom I’ve never talked to. But being known as opinionated loudmouth has often put me into an interesting position where I act as a soundboard for moments of confession, “psst, I don’t really like ‘bandx’” To which I reply, it’s really ok, neither do I, and neither do the 5 other people who told me in secret this same week. Or, alternatively, in some cases, ‘Oh really? I can get behind this aspect of what they’re doing, for sure/ I used to feel the same way but…’. But I never, never, ever give fake compliments (well, maybe there’s been a few exceptions, when cute boys were involved).

Let’s not be stupid. Some things are bad. Actually, everything pretty much sucks. But I never said Tom Fun were bad, just not my thing. Taste is relative to the person, you know:

Examples/overgeneralizations:
If you took a crust punk to Bright Eyes: This guy is a fucking pussy, this sucks.Likewise, you wouldn’t take a folk singer to a grindcore concert: ow my ears, this sucks.
And, some would say, you just wouldn’t take Jen anywhere.


But, if my honesty still seems like a shortcoming, I choose to pass on the blame to:

a)My mom, for not beating me into being better mannered
b)Hardcore punk
c)The government for inventing Cape Breton (OMG! LOL!)

Love you!xoxoxox Jen

Carl left you a pie in the fridge

-What? Who’s Carl? And, more importantly, what kind of pie is it?

This is how I started my monday morning.

I then saw a grown man with an undercut and it made my day 78.7% better.

A lawyer asked me to print off the weather forecast for the next day. This is the thing with lawyers. Maybe they just want to hang out and get up from their desks so they get people to do absolutely pointless tasks. In the time it took him to walk down the hall, he could have read it himself probably 6 times. I sort of laughed and I think he was pissed. I totally hi-lighted Tuesday and the graphic for his ease of reference.

The week, it’s was shaped by

Asleep Bearly's
I was fast asleep Wednesday night when Brad rang my doorbell around 12, dragged me out of bed, downstairs to Bearly's and put a drink in my hand- all in a matter of 3 minutes. I don't even think my eyes were open for about 1/2 hr.

Savannah call!!!!
So nice to hear some Savannah laughter at my recent secrets.
If something sexy doesn’t happen to me soon, I’m gonna fuckin' kill someone!

Working hard.
I think the laywer I was working for on Friday thought I was a law student. He’d be all like. Interpret 3.5 and take off for an hour. The weirdest part was that I interpreted 3.5 pretty much perfectly. Had to work overtime even...

which led to instating

White Wine Leather Jacket Fridays (Badass)
It began when Amy arrived and I was sitting smoking on my steps (I don't even smoke anymore). Fridays are always long days at the office. We decided the night would be defined by a fine balance of class and bad-assedtry. Amy and I hit it. Haley’s in. Sav will soon be a member, I’m sure. To be in the club you have to have a leather jacket, be hot, and like to get drunk and be a badass. Wanted to see Buck 65 but no dice. So we went to Stage Nine and saw, like, Rawlins Cross or something. Not hatin’, just sayin’. Sorry, I’m not from Cape Breton so I can’t tell the difference. Aesthetics in this city are so fucked up. PS-SMASH THE STATE!!!

Family cottage lobster fest
Saturday night. Lobster and then hockey game. I think that was the first hockey game I tried to watch, ever. Wasen’t as excruciating as I expected (maybe cause of the Heinnekin), for a social thing.

Mouse Legend Continues
The mouse seems to hate hardcore punk. The mouse likes boys. It only appears when a boy is at my house or I'm talking to Andrew on the phone. It’s like I’m in a fucking short story and it's a recurrent symbol with some sort of deep coherent meaning to it’s existence. The hunt has been schedule for Thursday by Edie the kitty's visit.

Mommy can I go out and kill tonight?
I’m always rocking out in the elevator and I think people at the firm think I’m fucking crazy. Descendents. So much punk rock. Milo goes to College. Myage= sweet bassline...

A Penpal
I have a penpal now and it’s pretty cool. He’s in a lot of cool bands.

NEXT SHOW COUNTDOWN
June 29th at Hell’s Kitchen. Immaculate Machine and Maynards, bitches. I am very very excited. We have new songs and even practice on a regular basis now. You better come, or else you’ll miss out/I'll hate you forever. Yeah, it’s Thursday. So what. Don't be a pussy.

matières sensuelles et sans suite/ l'enfance est plus sympathique

It's a weird time.
Another weekend of randomness.
Sometimes I think my skin has gotten a little too thick. Nothing seems to bother
me; even the most irritating-to-jen things that hypothetically, I'd expect to make me freak right out, just don't. But this is probably a good thing. You know, Shakespeare analogies are pretty cool.

My Learesque wheel of fortune seems to be stuck on neutral. I'm not used to
neutrality. Aaron Spelling! Damn you! I've always attested that as a child I
watched and listened to whatever I wanted, and HEY! I turned out fine, just
fine. But as of the past few months, I've determinded that aaron spelling
dramas subconsiously socialized me into thinking that the stasis of my life,
aka drama dial stuck on melrose place-esque HIGH (danger) is completely normal.
and sexy. and fun. and cool. I'm learning otherwise. But I digress.

It's times like this when I listen to that damn psychic tape. And end up feeling
totally Macbeth'd.

But, every major dissapointment in my life has eventually proved itself so awesome. So, I'm just waiting for the eventual turnaround on certain disappointments.

This weather is certainly not helping. Walking to work this morning, I was listening
Cybele's Reverie (french Stereolab) and found myself missing Montreal
incredibly. I've resolved to brush up on my french, in case this urge
continues, so I can up and return whenever I want. But this wouldn't happen
anytime too soon- I have a sweet job and an awesome band. I think that yet
again my patience is waning. We haven't played in awhile (my choice mostly), which is probably a good thing, considering our last show consisted of jentime anger burn-out. Evidenc: Oh, this is funny (for you kelkel, it's just like being there):

http://swordfight.org/video/swordfight-hotshotrobot.mov

Philip posted this video on his swordfight thingy. This was our last show, back in April,when A/V came to play with us and we surprised him with a cover. It was one of the those 'complicated nights' (all water under the bridge now, but, at the time, not so much). Jen was mad. Jen was sooo mad. One hour before the show I decided I wasn’t going to play and parked it on andrew’s couch. They pretty much had to drag me there. We played this song last (*note 2 whiskeys drank during set) and I’d like to point out how Andrew is laughing behind me about how drunk and angry I am the whole time. I'm pretty much just screaming out of control. Sean chimed in at the end to attempt to save some sort of melodic coherence of the song.

All that being said, these feelings are just transitory, a likely case of the
mondays or what have you. So, dear readers, please never feel sorry for me. I so
have plenty of sweet little secrets that I don't mention...

Moving on:

This weekend was marked by:

BIRTHDAY PARTY FOR MS. JULIA
Great fun. Cake fights balloon fights and general hilarity ensued. Deon wrote an
amazingly modern (suprise!) piano composition on amy's staff paper. I was quite
impressed by his theory and notation, I must say! I played hostess and even
managed to light candles on the cake without burning anything down. And even cleaned up some barf! Not my own, btw.
Domesticity! Check it!

WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!
Quote of the morning, saturday. oops. I woke up on my pullout couch.

ATTACK MODE
New favorite newly discovered to me band in Halifax.

MARK STANCE
and his vehement attempt to avoid kareoke but giving in to steal the show.

RETARDED MOUSE
I need an emergency cat visit, for any of you willing to offer. The mouse has
reappeared after a long hiatus and is walking around like he owns the damn
place. A slow mouse is more terrufying than a speedy one. It's just not right.I was going to get a kitty, but have resolved that I'd be a bad mommy since I'm never home. He has continued to defy me by eating the bait out of the traps and must be stopped.

l'enfance est plus authentique
le jardin au haut portique
la maison la maison d'autrefois
la maison la maison à venir
et le silence
me pénétrera

Out of Control

This weekend began with

OPEN BAR WORK PARTY
Lawyers like to party. People were drunk by 5:30. There was karaoke. Nobody was really into singing/not drunk enough so I took charge and sang Material Girl to a room full of a hundred and some lawyers, ending my performance by announcing: anyone who doesn't sing is a big wuss. People ate it up. I was a smash hit. There are hunky lawyers. I talked to them…

And later on

A SURPRISE PARTY DRESS
Gift from heather. Gorgeous gold/silver brocade, very Burberry Prorsum. Apparently, I was so excited I tore off my shirt and put it on right away. Poor Jared.

Which was very quickly followed by

GETTING ACCQUAINTED WITH THE BATHROOM FLOOR.
I may have been puking my guts out, but I looked damn pretty- so I’ve been told.

-Awe jenny you look so pretty…
-I want to diiiiiie...so many shots and there were tiny little meatballs *garbled drunken gibberish* I was talking to all the lawyers and they’re hunky one is 27 and we kept drnking he wanted to take me to Tribeca and drinking and *pukey*
-Awe, were they cute?
-*Pukey* uh uh. Yeah...*Pukey*...They were really cute...Oh,I want to diiiie

Which resulted in

AN EARLY BEDTIME
Friday night tucked in and passed out by 11 and everyone went out to speakeasy.

SHOPPING DAY WITH MOM
Nothing beats hangover like a cheeseburger and shopping. I love my mom.

A WEIRD SHOW AT STAGE NINE
Weird crowd. I went on business matters, ended up staying because of rain etcetera. And I like the Tragedies. Mark Stance is the king of town. Just ask the fucking drunk chick who was beside me yelling I looooooooove you, then turned to inform me as she impaled me with her stupid spiky trash heal that I really love him! I do!!!! And she did, until her boyfriend showed up.

Which also involved

MARK BLACK
(Are you happy now, you little attention whore) continuously interjecting with bizarre commentary, only to run off and shortly thereafter reappear to apologize for the previous comments, just to say something even more ridiculous and run off again- including but not limited to, as I was speaking with the owner “A gross man is hitting on you”.ThankyouMark. And even still, I don’t hate you. I never did. So get the fuck over it. Or try harder.


The aftermath of Sunday was marked by a family brunch sleeping more sleeeeeeeeeeping and supercharged band practice until I thought I was going to collapse. I love my band.

A Story

Kel sent me a black rebel motorcycle club song and I said shit Kel, how do you listen to this it reminds me that I have a soul of some sort and she replied precisely-

So I stayed up half the night listening to half-assed compositions of a narcissistic ex-lover who’s now acting for a living and he would come and he would go but he would never fail to ask me to furrow my brow to see the lines in my face of which we’d age together and call me his sweet dichotomy and then I remembered on the day I buried my first love he phoned me furious because I was late for dinner.
No, that’s something I never quite forgave him for.

And then I loved a rich man and felt like I’d won the lottery and sometimes he was so good but he wanted to calm me into a stepford wife while he would buy me such pretty things to pacify me slowly even when I gave him everything he always managed to disappoint me because he couldn’t quite recognize the importance of my own hopes and desires for what could be the first time he broke my heart when he realized the ring on my finger hadn’t stifled my ambitions or visions I accepted it quite painlessly and told my mother as she cried lamenting at such a tragedy that this surely is the better ending than blowing out my brains in my perfect kitchen quietly blood spattered on the over-scrubbed floor done by a someone else he’s paid for blood smeared down the white walls that he wouldn’t let me paint yellow blood with more blood to soak my Dior blouse red because I’m thirty-five and a prisoner of pretty things that he reminds me everyday are of his making like his children that he’s never home to see but whom he’d surely had taken away from me if I’d stayed alive for the part when he leaves with a fresh young thing in her twenties five years later when I would have been forty that’s the path of his success that’s the path of executives isn’t it-

No, that’s something that I could never quite look forward to.