Once upon a time.

Goodbye 2010.

We laughed, we cried, we fell out of trees, leapt out of windows and ran through graveyards.  We were chased by foxes, lost on the road, somewhere in Brooklyn, somewhere in the desert, in the back of an ambulance and we watched the sunrise and sunset.  We sang, we danced, we wore bear masks, we fainted and we then did it all again.  We let our hands dangle out the windows and the highways float by.  We sat in dark corners and we melted in the sun.  We got lost. We got found.  Now here we are.

Hello 2011. Hope you brought your A-game, cause I'm ready to do it again.

Sincerely,
Miss Late July

Champagne supernova

Oops ! Who knocked over the pepper?

Loving you is like a battle and we both end up with scars

I realized how I have all these childhood stories about being excluded and singled out.  Then my friend was pointing out my weirdness with personal space and touching. I'm not a touchey feely gal. I'm not cold but I'm not described as warm.  I'm room temperature, what's wrong with that?

The first day of Grade 9, my first class was science.  We were talking about genetics, and attached and detached earlobes.  And how attached earlobes were less common than the latter. Fine. Well my teacher went around to 40 students, then pulled me to the front of the class, to say that I was the only kid with attached earlobes in the class. Okay, first of all, I have small ears. I generally have small and delicate features.  But she made me seem like  a big freak, so thanks for that Mrs. V. Awesome.

Next up was religion class. I wasn't a happy teenager.  I was angry Nicole. Rawr and all that the world gone did me wrong.  Too much new metal for this teenager.  Half way through the semester my religion teacher, an ex-nun, who we think dated women in private, was a very rough /gruff teacher.  One day she started talking about personal space. I guess she had been watching the way I failed to interact with my fellow peers.  She called me to the front of the class, as if I didn't feel ridiculous enough in a button up shirt, kilt and knee socks...

"Everyone, Nicole has a bubble". What? I have a bubble? This isn't going to be good can I put my headphones back on now... "Nicole has a bubble of space around her, she won't let anyone near her. Watch this"  She kept stepping closer and closer to me and I naturally just kept backing up and ducking. The whole class started laughing at me. I wasn't being funny, ex-nun, get out of my space!

After that it was a running joke for people to try to come up and hug me, or get in my space.  The "Bubble Girl" nickname stuck for awhile.

A couple years later I was playing in a band with two other girls.  We were walking somewhere, I was about 17, and I thought that someone grabbed my ass.  I swung around with the fire of hell in my eyes and smacked my drummer on the arm. "OW!" I started blushing when I realized I had brushed up against a plant.. yes.. a house plant had assaulted me this time.  She thought that I was being homophobic, which I wasn't but I realized later when she came out to me that she was gay, I really hurt her feelings.  Not intentional.

When I started to date a year later, my poor first boyfriend.  I eventually got used to sharing personal space, even began to enjoy that.  I mean I was told that trying to give me a neck massage was like trying to massage a plastic barbie doll.  I'm so much better than I was, but yea, if you're a close talker I'm going to keep my distance. Take no offense, but don't get too much in my space. I spook easily. And have accidentally hit people with my crazy unnecessary reflexes that I've garnered for really no good reasons.

I'd like to think in my past life I was a ninja. The ninja of love. The nina of music. The ninja of cake. yes. cake. That'll do.

I feel it in my bones.

So it goes, so it goes, so it goes.

You know I think over the past two years I've developed a thick skin to things.  I'm not necessarily the overly sensitive girl I used to be.  You know sometimes I am.  I'm an artist after all.  A singer-songwriter and all that jazz.

A creepy picture of my hipster ex-boyfriend, on a rare 'no plaid' day.

The record is done. There I'll admit it. it's all out of my hand now.  Listening to my last record, I get all nervous that the new record is weird and sad, and more weird than weird should be.  But in other ways I'm happy I made it, and look forward to the next record. What will it sound like? What will it be about? Hopefully less sad. Please, for the love of chocolate chip cookie dough and rootbeer, make it less sad.  I think that can and will be done.

Talking to Adrian about the third record that I'm already thinking heavily about... he had this to say:

You co-write the whole thing with your strung out lesbian lover, and feed the songs into a computer algorithm written by a schizophrenic physicist and also create arrangements by vomiting "notes" onto a giant oversized music staff laid out on the ground, and in then end just record a chorus of crows in the early morning, and the sound of smokers cough run through 16 marshall stacks in a swimming pool during the solstice.

Yea - so um, it's going to be a 'different' process...

So for now, let's have a rock out moment to Tegan & Sara dance remix thing.

You have my permission to jump on your bed.  If you break your bed, blame the monkeys. Always the monkeys.

I Will Keep The Bad Things From You.

"God doesn't work, science doesn't work, consumerism certainly doesn't work, so where do you go? Where do you end up? We end up back with each other there is not where else to go. People, you've a very important early decision to make in your life: Are you going to be alone are you going to be with someone else? Are you going to be sane, or not lonely?" - Dylan Moran

My friend Heather sent me a clip from my favourite comedian/philosopher Dylan Moran.  I spent all last holiday alone, just watching all of his stand up and his show Black Books. Needles to say he's a favourite.  That said she told me to go to the clip at 8:45.  And we both laughed.  It's kind of true.  You're in your 20s, your 30s, and you fight with yourself.

You fight with that idea of not having to compromise for anyone or anything. And you think you've got it beat.  You are your own island, you do what you want, when you want, and the world is all yours.  Except it's not.  It's a balance. If you've ever really been in love then you know what a great feeling it is to give of yourself. And if you've ever really been in love then you know what a horrible feeling it is to give of yourself and get rejected in some shape or anything.  There really isn't a choice in the matter anymore.

At the end of the day we'd really rather be crazy than lonely, or maybe that's just crazy in any other way.  So as much as we can complain, and say this is unfair, this isn't perfect, you make me sad, you make me this or that, or whatever... it kind of is what it is.  You accept people for who they are or you don't.  You stay in a situation or you leave.  Agree to play the game, or fold the cards and seek all that crazy stuff elsewhere. With someone else. You'll find them.

We cross paths in this world every day for reasons we know and reasons we shouldn't and reasons that should not really be reasons at all. They just are.  While we may think sometimes that our brains are made of, as Moran puts it, "raspberry jam", that's just us. That's human nature.  I think it just comes down to balance.

Enjoy yourself with someone, but don't lose yourself in someone. Can you do that? Yes. You can.  It will happen for you, sooner than you think.  That part of your life will be content; it won't always make sense, but it doesn't always have to.

Enjoy what you have, know what you have, know when you're not happy and my rule of thumb?  If at the end of the day, at the end of most days anyway, you think of them and they don't make you smile, then they probably aren't the right one for you.

:)

When the night came and took us.

What's on my mind these days... after a week back home sick, my mind seems to have been wiped clean.  It's funny how certain weather and atmospheres can make you feel the same again.  I saw some re-runs of commercials for shows that played a couple months ago and it made me feel like I was in a time warp.

Today I return to the city.  I'm going to try to be a little bit more organized, more direct and more efficient. I'm a machine.

The end of the year means a chance to bring some resolve, and start a new.  However 'new' can 'new' truly be; I'm not certain.  There are those who inspire me, those who conspire against me, and those I love in between.  I'm big on adventure; everyday adventure.  Whether in a convertible in the Arizona desert, or the comfort of my living room - I hope that the way I look at things, my own perception, changes how my life is.  I have hope. I have gumption. I have the skin of my teeth.  And no matter what I'll see it through.

Saturday Morning Soul... A Holiday Edition...

For today, I had my friend Raymond guest blog on some great holiday themed Soul music. quite the lesson, so pay attention folks :)!!

---

Anyone who knows me well knows that my favourite type of music is Soul, and that my favourite singer of all time is Otis Redding. (Sorry, Nicole you’re great, but you’re not Otis)

One of the things that made Otis great was his cover versions of other material.  His version of “Try a Little Tenderness” (posted a couple of weeks ago) is now the definitive version, even though radically different from the original. Keith Richards once said that he prefers Otis’ version of “Satisfaction”, fitting since the song was written by The Stones in tribute to Otis and the Stax sound. 

Since this is Christmas Day, I thought I would focus on his Christmas songs, “White Christmas” and “Merry Christmas Baby”. 

“White Christmas” was written by Irving Berlin and the most famous version was a recording by Bing Crosby, used in the movie Holiday Inn. 

The tone of the song is wistful, pining for Christmas’ in the past. 

Here is Otis’ version:

The first thing we can notice is that it starts similarly to Bing’s but he’s also adlibbing both lyrics and phrasing. Otis was a master of the adlib and generally the last third of his songs would be him just riffing. 

However, when he reaches the second verse it changes subtly. He’s now singing to a specific person, with every Christmas card that he writes to “you”. When he starts singing “may your days be so merry and bright” his voice becomes more intense. That intensity gradually increases until the adlib section at the end. 

For me, every time I hear his version I imagine that he’s singing to his ex that has moved on. He still loves her and is depressed that he can’t celebrate with her. But he’s wishing her a Merry Christmas all the same. Taking a wistful, nostalgic song and turning into a patented Otis Redding sad song. It’s brilliant. 

Johnny Moore’s Three Trailblazer’s (featuring Charles Brown on Vox and Keys) “Merry Christmas Baby” is fairly typical of West Coast Rhythm and Blues:

On the Westside, they tended to be more laid back, almost languid when compared to the Eastside. In some ways that holds true today. Compare Snoop Dogg to Eminem or Ice Cube to Chuck D. 

Charles Brown actually recorded a jazzier solo version of this song, but most covers tend to be as bluesy as the Johnny Moore original. For example the bluesiest that Booker T & The MG’s and Elvis ever got was with their covers of this song. (With your schoolgirl crush on Steve Cropper, Nicole, I’m assuming you love the Booker T. version.)

One of the interesting things about the original is that there’s this tension between the slow blues music combined with pretty happy lyrics. With Otis’ version, it’s as if he realized that this is a happy song, so why are we sounding so depressed? Again, Otis completely transforms the song to suit him.

These two songs represent one big reason that Otis Redding is my favourite singer. He was a master at reinventing songs.  

Have a very Merry Christmas everyone and all the best for 2010.


-- 
Thanks Raymond!!!

God Only Knows

Merry Christmas Eve everyone...

It's a quiet holiday here. I've been ill all week, feeling like I'm in some sort of suburban coma, reminding me of what my life was a couple years ago.

I think about the holidays and I remind myself of all the people I used to see, the people I still see, and the people I will never see again.

I think about my Nonna, coming over, widowed but smiling, in some large vibrant green sweater, slippers, and a hand knit scarf.  I remember as boisterous and gregarious as she was, the moments after dinner where the family would separate, the kids would play with the toys, the parents would enjoy an aperitif, and she would sit in the corner with her glasses on.  She wasn't watching the kids play with the toys, or watch her own children nibble on cheese and share stories.  You could always tell that she was looking into her own past, a woman then in her 80s.  I wished I had asked her what Christmas' were like for her as a kid, as an adolescent, as a young mother.  You could tell, through her thick glasses she was looking at someone.  Missing her husband, her mother, her father, people long since past.  I wondered if she thought about her twin sister, Josephine, who died at birth, or her brother who died when he was a child.

She would often rest her elbow on her knee and think in silence away from everyone in some corner of a living room.  And for such a chatterbox, you know it never really dawned on me until now that she did this.  I don't think my Nonna lived with a lot of regrets; she's Sicilian, far too stubborn for regrets I'm sure.  She ate everything with a knife, and liked to speak with it precariously, pointing and jabbing it in every which way, it was her 'talking' stick; and yes, it got everyones attention.

She passed away 5 years ago, at the age 86.  She's the person I miss most at the holidays.  Language barriers and all.  I'll be honest, she gave awful Christmas gifts. Dollar store dolls, frilly dresses, and things that I hated as a girl.  But I adored her, even if I always didn't 'get her' ways.  Or understand Sicilian. She was a gem, and every Christmas I miss her, her laugh, her big neon sweaters and her hugs. She gave good hugs.

This morning before I went to venture out for the first time in a couple days I saw the quote in pink above. It made me think.  We can't change somethings in life, in fact, we can't change a lot things.  Our key to being human beings is that we survive and adapt so well; we roll with the punches or cease to exist.  While we can't change the past, we can make a go at a better future.  And those who complain that this time of year is lonely because you're single, you don't like your family, the year was crap... you have to have something.  So chin up.  Make a new ending, then make another one, then go out, fly a kite, and do it again. That's life; and the more we do it, the less we fail... as my dear Bukowski said:

"you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be."
Thanks Hank. You always got that right.

And to the random gentleman who called me at 2am last night to ask me if I think about my future:  Yes sir, I do. But with the way things go, I can only think a step at a time.

Merry Christmas lovers.

Something Good Can Work

At the BizMedia Christmas party last week Nate Kogan of http://www.natekogan.net was taking some pics.  You can see the results below.  Come up with a nifty caption for some of the photos.. and I'll give you a prize.

Honest.

My Cherie Amour.

It's funny what songs remind you of.  We all have associations with songs from a certain, place, time, person our life.

I have no idea why, but Stevie Wonder's "My Cherie Amore" reminds me of someone getting ready to go out on a date with someone that could totally care less about them.  I have no idea the association.  I know it's a sweet song, but really it's kind of a sad song; even sort of creepy when you think of it.  Crush's are creepy, which is maybe why I don't have crushes anymore. I like to roll the dice, and if I can't then I don't stress over it.

I have so many friends at the stage of their life, the 'love shakra' era of their life they call it where the drivel over texts and emails, and voice mails and looks and glances, and whoseits and whatsits... no one seems to have a clue what's going on with anyone.  And as much as my advice is to be upfront, I guess there is a charm.. I'm not a patient girl, working on it.  It's knowing when to play to win the game and knowing when you're just in it to play out the clock.  What is romance after all? Mystery and excitement; and you can only maintain that for so long.  So I revel a little bit in my friends and their romances.  I'm happy for them, and if it doesn't work out I'm still happy they took that leap of faith with someone.

I used to keep a blog when I was 15.  I think it was called "The Road Less Taken Is The Road More Travelled" or something like that.  It was black with purple and white font, and text that eerily faded in and out. I'd post photos like I do here, I hosted it under my own url and I'd spend hours coding the site.  It was cute.  It reminds me of my secret poetry blog that makes me giggle every time I post on it. Maybe that's my own way of maintaining my teenage exuberance.. I'm not even sure. It's cold outside, so get warm people. I am sick in bed but I'm thinking of the ocean.

You?

I want you back.

Sunday evening after rehearsals was my demise.  I started feeling wheezy. I went to an Ecuadorian restaurant with my bassist, Justin to try to warm up before heading home.  Well I was telling a story and some how managed to spit lettuce out all over the table.  I couldn't stop laughing, so my jaw seized up, finally after composing myself, I sneezed and my nose started bleeding.  Really!? Is my body just falling apart all of a sudden..."Justin, I think I should put myself in a bubble and go home..."

(Can you spot me at Golden Griddle?)

I arrived home and could not get warm.  Fever hit 102 and I was piled under jackets, blankets, toques and heating pads.  Then the cough started... I begrudgingly had to cancel my first show at Horseshoe Tavern in Toronto and curl up into bed to die.. just a little.  Hello bronchitis. You hurt my lungs, so.

(Saying hi from my bed)

My monthly #PancakeParty with @nympsam @ccath @bev_w @j_real @bondean @35mmmonkey would have to be missed!  It's something we started to chat, laugh, make stupid 'that's what she said' jokes, and so forth and so on.  My mom came in to take my dishes, as I made my own batch of blueberry pancakes and tea, so I could eat with everyone else.  She said hi to everyone, which was, cool. She reads my blog. HI MOM. 

(Jack Russells!)

What do good friends do? They find wi-fi, skype you then put you on a booster seat amongst a sea of tea and pancakes! Oh the future is here.

I can't tell you what we talked about.  But I love my ladies.  They took me out this summer and made me love Toronto, laugh and have fun. They taught me not to take things so seriously but at the same time, make sure people treat you with respect.  They are all fantastic talented people in their own right, and you'll see them on the blog time to time; with good reason.  Good friends, with a good heart and sense of humor seem hard to come by these days!

It's been awhile since I've been on a booster seat, but hey, it felt good...

That any girl abandoned by her lover may feel from that far intenser example of loving.

In a feverish stupor I found some Rainer Maria Rilke books tonight.  Rilke, much like Bukowski and Plath, is one of my favourite authors.  I like to read poetry out loud.  I believe it is meant to be that way.  You need to feel the words resonating, leaving your lips, being put out in front of you to be felt, heard, and maybe even appreciated.

For some reason the piece below consumed me a little tonight.  I'm not sure if it's my feverish state, the holiday season or the steady stream of events that have billowed into what has turned out to be 2010 for me, but it really moved me to tears.  I guess I didn't know that I had a feeling of loss or abandonment burrowed deep down inside somewhere.  Perhaps that's the beauty of poetry.  Love, loss, vulnerability.  That's what I wrote about in my new record.  Reading Rilke's writing gave me a great sense of loneliness, peace and acceptance.  I can't be sure why.  But the last lines of the poem really stung as they left my lips; I could feel them hit back hard like some unexpected blow.

A girl abandoned by her lover? Well that's one of the top saddest things in the world. And if you've ever been abandoned by a lover, then you know what it's like to have lost, to have suffered a loss of a perception and morality.  We fade just a little, then pick ourselves back up, for one last call to the shoreline.

***

Yes, the springtime were in need of you. Often a star
waited for you to espy it and sense its light.
A wave rolled toward you out of the distant past,
or as you walked below and open window,
a violin gave itself to your hearing.
All this was trust. But could you manage it?
Were you not always distraught by expectation,
as if all this were announcing the arrival 
of a beloved? (Where would you find a place to hide her,
with all your great strange thoughts coming and going
and often staying for the night.)
When longing overcomes you, sing of women in love;
for their famous passion is far from immortal enough.
Those whom you almost envy, the abandoned and
desolate ones, whom you found so much more loving
than those gratified.  Begin ever new again
the praise you cannot attain; remember:
the hero lives on and survives; even his downfall
was for him only a pretext for achieving
his final birth.  But nature, exhausted, takes lovers
back into itself, as if such creative forces could never be achieved a second time.


That any girl abandoned by her lover may feel
from that far intenser example of loving. 
-Rainer Maria Rilke

Ten decisions shape your life, you'll be aware of five.

Can you remember decisions you've made in the past year that greatly affected your life? Can you remember why you did what you did, or ended up where you are?

I can.

I'm not feeling terribly reminiscent these days.  I've built my life the way it has, as structured as possible in order to allow the random stuff, the unexpected fall out from decisions to reign through.  Am I happy with all my decisions this year? Meh. That's honestly how I feel about it. It is what it is, people come into your life for a reason, people leave your life for a reason - and that hassle that comes in between, well that's just the dirt on your shoes.

Won't you wipe your feet?

Late july tumbles and stumbles on, it's fun. I like it.  I adore the people I work with, each and every one of them. I haven't had a bad experience yet with any Late July affiliates, and I hope to keep it that way.  Even though I released the album in early spring, I've been receiving a lot of feed back from people.  Mostly good, whether that is sincere or not I'll never know, but it certainly makes me smile.

What I do hear a lot is, that my music has everything to do with my image.  I get a little miffed when I hear that, I won't lie.  Yes I'm a 25 year old girl, I can put on a dress, slap on some make up, climb trees in five inch heels and call it a day.  I make no apologies for that.  At the same time, I work hard as I can on Late July (er, that's me) music.  It's everyday, it's a process.  I stay up late, I perfect, I sit back, I try to gain perspective.  I write all the songs myself and direct the whole project.  No, I don't do everything - if I can find talented people to help me, well why not?  I want to put the best music out there that I can.  It's quality for me.  Image can be apart of the product, that goes with out saying.  Humans are visual creatures.  We like to be stimulated as much as possible (have you seen north american media lately!?).  But at the same time, I hope, that at some point, somewhere down the line, people hear what I'm doing, that they listen, and whilst they may not like it, they get that a girl in her bedroom wrote a record (or two, or three) and put it out there.  Give artists a chance.  Give anyone doing anything creative in any field, business, accounting, medicine, or otherwise a chance.

We put it all on the line, the best we know how; what do you do?

I'm thinking big now.  I'm thinking for those days when I'm not the 25 year old girl on stage.  That's not to say that future isn't in music, but Late July is my foundation. It's my rock. It keeps me steady, focused and hungry.  There's a future for me out there. I don't want to grow old unhappy.  I don't want to live my life planning for a future that will likely be different than anything I could ever imagine.  I just follow my intuition, point my compass to what feels real and sincere... and see what happens.

Saturday Morning Soul - Hold On...

Why don't people dance like this anymore?

Infallibility could barely lie..

HoHoTo was last night - a fun charity event that ended up raising $60k + dollars for the Daily Bread Food Bank.  I saw a lot of my friends there and was able to catch up with a lot of people.

The highlight of the night is when my friend Duarte decided to play Literary Kings.  It was kind of a moment, perhaps likened to the end of an 80s film, dancing with all my friends around. It was wonderful despite the lack of John Cusack to sweep my off my feet at the end of the night.

The photos speak for themselves.  I took a bunch, as I always do.  I love my friends :)

Cool People I Know - Chapter 21 - Matt Roth

Meet Matt. Say Hi Matt. Matt. Say Hi. Matt. Matt...

I met Matt through my dear friend Eva K.  She's all types of awesome, so naturally Matt is too.  Matt works in PR, grew up in Waterloo and wrestles alligators in his spare time.  

What you might not know about Matt is he's extremely funny.  Really funny actually. I can read any of his emails and they'll likely leave you in stitches.  I mean, I'll send him a straight up email asking how he is, and his response will usually result in some type of spitting out of drink, or something along those lines.

He's a good friend, you want him on your team, especially if you're into wrestling alligators or putting together shows, or if you need someone to cheer you up or take you out to Cherry Colas and watch people do crazy things. Then Matt's your guy.  Seriously wishing he would pursue his writing more but alas PR and gator wrestling ties up (pun intended) his time.  Just read this interview.. it's 10 types of hilarious and he's 20 types of awesome. Oh right, try the crudite platter.

Name: Matt Roth 
Sign: Dicaprio (aka Leo)
 Location: Standing Right Behind You
 Status: Mothers - Lock Up Your Daughters
Twitter: @mattroth416

What places have you lived in? 

I’ve lived all over the world. And by ‘all over the world’ I more specifically mean three cities in Southern Ontario. Born and raised in the bustling metropolis of Kitchener, I moved my act great distances (about five minutes door to door) to Waterloo at the tender age of 16, to further my education and the development of my general awesomeness. A few years later I moved to Toronto for college (first South Etobicoke, then Bloor West Village, then Forest Hill and now the Eg/Mt. Pleasant corridor) and stuck around for my career and, no matter how hard she tries sometimes, this city still hasn’t been able to shake me free. 

What is the one song that best describes you? Why? 

I’d probably say “What I Got” by Sublime. It’s a pretty relaxed song that deals with some serious stuff but also doesn’t act overly serious all the way throughout, which I think is a pretty solid description of me. I try to have a positive impact on the people that come and go in my life (and can accept the fact that sometimes, for various reasons, that just doesn’t happen) and I seem to be pretty good at keeping my head on straight in good times and bad, not letting problems (large or small) take a major toll on me which both seem to be key themes in the song. 

I also rise to the street rather early on occasion (normally in search of coffee), I rarely start static and I’ve never had to battle with a bulletproof vest (know how tough it is to try and buy one of those things!), so it’s pretty much a bang on description of me in a lot of ways. Granted there are several discrepancies, which I don’t mind pointing out. 

-        I don’t have a Dalmatian or any other type of dog (yet) 
-        I don’t get high (Cerveza, por favor) 
-        The opening few bars to ‘More Than a Feeling’ by Boston is really the only gee-tar that I can still play like a motherf#cking riot 
-        My styles are not straight from Long Beach. I lived in the Long Branch neighbourhood of Etobicoke for a little while, but I’m pretty sure that’s not the same thing 
-        I can’t imagine my mother smoking any kind of illegal narcotic. She can make a bottle of Chardonnay her bitch pretty easily, though 
-        I’ve never lived with a ‘Lou Dog’ but have done alright at maintaining my sanity even given this shocking fact 

Save for these rather insignificant differences though, I’d say ‘What I Got’ could pretty easily be renamed ‘Bradley Nowell’s Loving Ballad of Matt Roth’. 

If you could name the book of the biography of your life what would it be?

Since I’d have to write pretty much everything in the book, I’d probably just steal a title I like from a Matt Good b-side and call my biography ‘Life Beyond the Minimum Safe Distance’ as I think it kind of sums up my life to this point pretty well. I've always thought it’s important to push yourself and get out of your comfort zone i.e. your ‘Minimum Safe Distance’ every now and then to remind yourself (and sometimes teach yourself) of just what it is you’re capable of. I find the older I get the more measured the risks I'll push myself to take are, but there’d still be plenty of stories from days gone by of some stuff that in hindsight was pretty stupid, but that I was for the most part able to take something positive from (i.e. before jumping a fence, always look to see how far a drop it is on the other side or risk concussions and/or permanent facial scarring). 

Well, either that or I’d call it ‘Everything in This Book Really Happened’ and then just fill it with a bunch of stuff that never happened - just to be a jerk. Kind of like ‘A Million Little Pieces’ but with more jokes about pandas and other various cute and hilarious animals. 

If you could have a super power what would it be? Who would be your arch-nemesis you'd use it against? 

My super power would be having actual finger guns that shoot real bullets when I make the finger gun motion. I’d use it against my arch-nemesis, ‘Any Guy That Has Ever Done The Finger Gun Expecting To Pull It Off’. My first target would be their leader: http://bit.ly/e8Gskd 

If you could pick any rock and roll figure to be your dad who would it be? 

Without a doubt, David Gilmour. I think music today would be very different if Pink Floyd never existed, and though Roger Waters was the driver for what they did from a conceptual standpoint, I still feel that what Gilmour brought to the equation was the driving force behind why their music meant so much to generations of fans. Plus if he were my father he would probably disown me if I ever gave up playing the guitar, so by now I’d probably be able to really play the gee-tar like a motherf#cking riot. 

Who or what inspires you to do what you do? Be specific. 

1)        My folks. For being a pretty stubborn kid that wanted to do everything my own way, they did a fairly impressive job of instilling a lot of positive values in me (in many cases, without me even knowing it.) Now that I’m a little older and can recognize and appreciate that fact, I find a lot of my inspiration was born from them and their tireless efforts to save teenage me from my stupid self. 

2)        Genuinely funny people. I think that laughter is one of the most important things in life, and see the fact that everybody loves a good laugh as one of the few bonds that tie us all together. People that have an ingrained knack at bringing smiles to the faces of those around them have made the world a much better place, and have always inspired me to try and do the same. 

3)        Kurt Vonnegut. I can’t even describe how many ways and to what extent reading his collective work has done to open my mind to different perspectives and impacted the way I process things. Any time I need inspiration I grab one of his books and disappear for a while until I’m inspired enough to come back up for air. So it goes. 

What is one song you can never get enough of? (include youtube linkage) 

One song is for suckers Nicole, so I give you two. 

Ben Harper – The Woman in You (Live from Mars) 

Live versions of songs are always where it’s at for me. Harper’s ‘The Woman In You’ from Live From Mars has been hands down, far-and-away my favourite song ever since it first pierced my ears on New Year's Day 2001 while I was half passed out on a bus coming back from a crazy night in Montreal. His scream at about the seven minute mark of the songs is so primal it sends chills up my spine every time I hear it. They didn’t do any video at Live From Mars but this version from Vancouver a few years ago does it justice. - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzZobBwRKLg 

David Gilmour – Comfortably Numb (Live in Gdansk) 

Second, David Gilmour (that guy again) performing Comfortably Numb live at the Gdansk Shipyard with the Baltic Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra. This was the last night of the ‘On an Island’ tour and Richard Wright (the keyboardist from Pink Floyd) is doing vocals for the verses. This show would end up being Wright’s last live performance as he passed away shortly after the tour. IMO if the original closing solo for “Numb” from The Wall is one of greatest musical gifts ever given to man, this version from Gdansk is fit for something much better than us. 

Plus I’ve worked really hard to develop the most awesome surprise-in-your-face air guitar routine that I break out to accompany this version, which I’m pretty sure everyone loves. Well, everyone except for strangers on the subway. They don’t seem to like the routine much. But that probably has more to do with their lack of appreciation for the fine art of surprise-in-your-face air guitaring than it does the routine itself, right? Right.  -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1JoN5up0B0 
Dear Miss Late July, 

What’s the square root of a pineapple? 

Seriously, I need to know the answer to this fast otherwise I can’t get into my online banking account (why the hell would the bank let me write my own security question in the first place??) and I’ve got some bills and scary people I really need to pay quickly. 

Any help would be appreciated. 

Your fan, 
Matt 


Dear Matt, bills and scary people go hand in hand. Are you stripping again? 


Sincerely,
MLJ