For the first time ever I'm trying my hand at a hockey pool. My attention to hockey was kind of casually pulled back about 3 seasons ago; previously I hadn't particularly cared since watching the Leafs as a kid. Up until last season it was mainly Vancouver Canucks games, but being overseas last winter forced me to follow the stats and summaries more, so now I find myself with a bunch of somewhat useless information in my brain concerning an entire league's worth of athletes.
So, might as well put it to some sort of use.
My team (lets call them the Groin Strains):
Forwards
1. Evgeni Malkin (Pittsburgh Penguins)
2. Henrik Zetterberg (Detroit Red Wings)
3. Dany Heatley (San Jose Sharks)
4. Jonathon Toews (Chicago Blackhawks)
5. Daniel Briere (Philadelphia Flyers)
6. Viktor Stalberg (Toronto Maple Leafs)
Defensemen
1. Christian Ehrhoff (Vancouver Canucks)
2. Jay Bowmeester (Calgary Flames)
3. Nicklas Lidstrom (Detroit Red Wings)
Enforcer
Jay Rosehill (Toronto Maple Leafs)
Goaltender
Nikolai Khabibulin (Edmonton Oilers)
Rules -> 1 point for either a goal or assist by forwards and defencemen, half a point for every penalty minute served by the enforcer, 1 point for every win by a goaltender, and two points for either a shutout or a goal from the goaltender. Plus once-a-month trade options, only exception being an injury or a demotion to a minor league. Let's go!!
***update : Name change to the Groin Stains.
.........also, my goalie, Khabibulin, just scored the game winning goal with ten seconds to go - except on his own net! not certain if I earn two points for that though ........***
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Wake the Fuck Up
.
Around 2:20 in you get a close glimpse into his eyes. Eyes of a poet, junkie, b'balla and rock'n'rolla; the eyes of a Dead Man.
Its 2009 and we all seem to die repeatedly these days. I'm enthused about life by these exciting events.
Goodbye Jim.
Around 2:20 in you get a close glimpse into his eyes. Eyes of a poet, junkie, b'balla and rock'n'rolla; the eyes of a Dead Man.
Its 2009 and we all seem to die repeatedly these days. I'm enthused about life by these exciting events.
Goodbye Jim.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Burned, Stretched, Tired & a little bit Snooty
notes from coastal island explorations, volume two :
Two weekends in a row, two wildly different festivals experienced. Dramatic entrances all around.
First, I spent three of the craziest days of my life on a hip-hop pirate ship. We sailed 5 hours down the coast of Vancouver Island to Comox, catching a ride to Big Time Out in Cumberland. Hopped the fence and promptly ran into half the people I worked with all summer, eventually camping out in my old boss' backyard - plus one of the best after parties ever. The festival itself was kind of hollow; I mean, Sam Roberts as headliner? Mother Mother, from Quadra, was an interesting new find though.
Just a few days of rest and then headed up early to do set-up for Carrington Bay Music Festival (no link available). It's remote, secretive, and grass-roots ... a long weekend electronic festival on the North coast of Cortes Island. Aside from a beautiful setting, there wasn't too much to it. Two stages of similar dj's and a lot of drugs. Again, the trip down there proved the most electric. We got waylaid by a friend of a friend on the second ferry out there, went to his house where some other guy fed everyone acid, and wound up being kicked out after we used his clothesline like a slingshot. I guess the guy doesn't like having martini glasses fired at his roof. Heading down to the festival location at 3am we ruptured the gas tank on a friend's car and I had instant flashbacks of Burning Man '06, leaving the 420mobile in Beaverton, Oregon.
What's the point? In both cases, the journey proved to be more of an experience than the destination. I knew from day 1 of BM '05 that my festival going experiences would never be the same. The trouble I run into is that whenever I attempt to explain this to people, I come across as snobby and elitist. But it's true. The balance and interactive experience found in Black Rock is unparalleled. Here's hoping for a theme of epic proportions for 2010!
So, back to semi-normal life tomorrow ... I'd be down & out if it weren't for this intriguing news from the North : Grizzly-Polar Bear Hybrid Found -- But What Does It Mean?
Two weekends in a row, two wildly different festivals experienced. Dramatic entrances all around.
First, I spent three of the craziest days of my life on a hip-hop pirate ship. We sailed 5 hours down the coast of Vancouver Island to Comox, catching a ride to Big Time Out in Cumberland. Hopped the fence and promptly ran into half the people I worked with all summer, eventually camping out in my old boss' backyard - plus one of the best after parties ever. The festival itself was kind of hollow; I mean, Sam Roberts as headliner? Mother Mother, from Quadra, was an interesting new find though.
Just a few days of rest and then headed up early to do set-up for Carrington Bay Music Festival (no link available). It's remote, secretive, and grass-roots ... a long weekend electronic festival on the North coast of Cortes Island. Aside from a beautiful setting, there wasn't too much to it. Two stages of similar dj's and a lot of drugs. Again, the trip down there proved the most electric. We got waylaid by a friend of a friend on the second ferry out there, went to his house where some other guy fed everyone acid, and wound up being kicked out after we used his clothesline like a slingshot. I guess the guy doesn't like having martini glasses fired at his roof. Heading down to the festival location at 3am we ruptured the gas tank on a friend's car and I had instant flashbacks of Burning Man '06, leaving the 420mobile in Beaverton, Oregon.
What's the point? In both cases, the journey proved to be more of an experience than the destination. I knew from day 1 of BM '05 that my festival going experiences would never be the same. The trouble I run into is that whenever I attempt to explain this to people, I come across as snobby and elitist. But it's true. The balance and interactive experience found in Black Rock is unparalleled. Here's hoping for a theme of epic proportions for 2010!
So, back to semi-normal life tomorrow ... I'd be down & out if it weren't for this intriguing news from the North : Grizzly-Polar Bear Hybrid Found -- But What Does It Mean?
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The Good, The Bad, The Ugly, The Weird
notes from coastal island explorations, volume one :
Good News
Met a guy who up and quit speaking 7 or 8 years ago. He apparently used to be a very angry, aggressive person. My impression of him was a gentle, friendly character, who communicates through charades and sound effects. Conveniently, his name is Bob, which lends itself perfectly to the nickname Silent Bob. He's got a small dog named Kiss Kiss, which of course is meant to be pronounced through a double serving of the kiss noise.
Bad News
After arriving late at night in Courtenay and heading straight to an abandoned mill party, came back after dawn to the party organizers house. Drank beer all afternoon; by 2am everyone had passed out except little old insomniac me. I decided not to sleep in the tent that had been set up out back for me and went to get my sleeping bag to crash on the couch. Some kind of weird shadow seemed to be moving in the tent, thought I was experiencing sleep deprivation hallucinations, but checked anyways by rolling a big medicine ball towards it. Whatever it was, it charged me - looked like some kind of black dog. But this was a totally sealed tent ... to date, one of the creepiest demon-type encounters I've ever had.
Ugly News
Tried a single, small bump of what passes for coke around here. It certainly wasn't, my guess would be some kind of freebase, baking soda concoction. Spent an hour of the mill party curled up outside by the van, with horrible stomach pains.
Just Plain Weird
Got dragged along to a Logging Sports Fair in Campbell River by my friend and host. Coincidentally, both her father and boyfriend (who hadn't met before) were in the beer gardens, getting wasted together. I proceeded to watch them get to the point of falling down, alternating between telling one another how much they loved them, and threatening to beat each other down. After the father left, she got mad at him for calling him 'Dad', they got in a huge fight, he started crying, and I was left for two hours on my own. Did I mention how little I care for logging sports?
Luckily, I was saved by the arrival of Crimson Reign, the blistering four-piece cover metal band. Evidently they know enough concerning synchronicity to wait three songs into their set before clobbering the crowd over its collective head with their take on The Ace Of Spades.
Good News
Met a guy who up and quit speaking 7 or 8 years ago. He apparently used to be a very angry, aggressive person. My impression of him was a gentle, friendly character, who communicates through charades and sound effects. Conveniently, his name is Bob, which lends itself perfectly to the nickname Silent Bob. He's got a small dog named Kiss Kiss, which of course is meant to be pronounced through a double serving of the kiss noise.
Bad News
After arriving late at night in Courtenay and heading straight to an abandoned mill party, came back after dawn to the party organizers house. Drank beer all afternoon; by 2am everyone had passed out except little old insomniac me. I decided not to sleep in the tent that had been set up out back for me and went to get my sleeping bag to crash on the couch. Some kind of weird shadow seemed to be moving in the tent, thought I was experiencing sleep deprivation hallucinations, but checked anyways by rolling a big medicine ball towards it. Whatever it was, it charged me - looked like some kind of black dog. But this was a totally sealed tent ... to date, one of the creepiest demon-type encounters I've ever had.
Ugly News
Tried a single, small bump of what passes for coke around here. It certainly wasn't, my guess would be some kind of freebase, baking soda concoction. Spent an hour of the mill party curled up outside by the van, with horrible stomach pains.
Just Plain Weird
Got dragged along to a Logging Sports Fair in Campbell River by my friend and host. Coincidentally, both her father and boyfriend (who hadn't met before) were in the beer gardens, getting wasted together. I proceeded to watch them get to the point of falling down, alternating between telling one another how much they loved them, and threatening to beat each other down. After the father left, she got mad at him for calling him 'Dad', they got in a huge fight, he started crying, and I was left for two hours on my own. Did I mention how little I care for logging sports?
Luckily, I was saved by the arrival of Crimson Reign, the blistering four-piece cover metal band. Evidently they know enough concerning synchronicity to wait three songs into their set before clobbering the crowd over its collective head with their take on The Ace Of Spades.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Summer Break (the eternal chaos)
Spent about a month now with the latest Sonic Youth album, The Eternal, in my life. Came during a brief respite from chaos, decided to stick around.
Seems there's plenty of accolades floating around for this album. I'll stretch the bandwagon and call it my favorite yet of all their records. I'm certain there are plenty of hardcores out there who will hate me for that - surely that should go to something like Daydream Nation or Goo !!! - but fuck it, I love it, and in an effort to go further in depth with that sentiment, and take it out of the realm of every other blog post, here's a point-form, stream-of-conscience evaluation of it, track by track:
1. Sacred Trickster - stumbling, dizzy, grinding, listless
2. Anti-Orgasm - smooth, descending, intentional, subversive, !orgasmic!
3. Leaky Lifeboat - sparkling, confident, insistent
4. Antenna - spacecrafts, comfort, unease, hope
5. What We Know - swinging, shuffling, bustling, bouncing
6. Calming the Snake - walking, crawling, running, fading, boiling, overheating
7. Poison Arrow -dirty groove, stabbing, rolling, sweet
8. Malibu Gas Station - dreamy, impulsive, inspired
9. Thunderclap For Bobby Pyn - harmonic.morepunkthanpunk.fuckyou.bestsong.morecowbell.
10. No Way - high, classic, more sweetness
11. Walkin Blue - funky, under construction, introspective
12. Massage the History - nostalgic, melodic, sexy, floating, familiar
13. Pay No Mind - oh, a bonus cover of my favorite Beck song? you don't say .. !Holy Fuck!
14. No Garage - go, goodbye
cum on' down, down to the river, cum on' down, i wanna feel you shiver
Seems there's plenty of accolades floating around for this album. I'll stretch the bandwagon and call it my favorite yet of all their records. I'm certain there are plenty of hardcores out there who will hate me for that - surely that should go to something like Daydream Nation or Goo !!! - but fuck it, I love it, and in an effort to go further in depth with that sentiment, and take it out of the realm of every other blog post, here's a point-form, stream-of-conscience evaluation of it, track by track:
1. Sacred Trickster - stumbling, dizzy, grinding, listless
2. Anti-Orgasm - smooth, descending, intentional, subversive, !orgasmic!
3. Leaky Lifeboat - sparkling, confident, insistent
4. Antenna - spacecrafts, comfort, unease, hope
5. What We Know - swinging, shuffling, bustling, bouncing
6. Calming the Snake - walking, crawling, running, fading, boiling, overheating
7. Poison Arrow -dirty groove, stabbing, rolling, sweet
8. Malibu Gas Station - dreamy, impulsive, inspired
9. Thunderclap For Bobby Pyn - harmonic.morepunkthanpunk.fuckyou.bestsong.morecowbell.
10. No Way - high, classic, more sweetness
11. Walkin Blue - funky, under construction, introspective
12. Massage the History - nostalgic, melodic, sexy, floating, familiar
13. Pay No Mind - oh, a bonus cover of my favorite Beck song? you don't say .. !Holy Fuck!
14. No Garage - go, goodbye
cum on' down, down to the river, cum on' down, i wanna feel you shiver
Sunday, April 19, 2009
this post's got the Devil in it..
NHL Playoffs started earlier this week. Coincidentally, the same day they started I came across the Wikipedia page for the New Jersey Devil, from which the team derived their name. I'd never really thought much about the name the Devils and just assumed they were claiming to be 'a hell of a team to play' or some such play on words. Now that I think about it, that would be kind of strange for a team hailing from such a god-fearing place as the U.S. of A.
But so, it turns out the name stems from a local (not-so)-urban legend: a prehistoric flying creature still living deep in the New Jersey Pine Barrens.
I came across this through another bizarre stroke of synchronicity. Last Sunday I had a horrid night of sleeplessness, passing out right after coming home and waking up at 4 am dehydrated (damn! those Sunday evening sponaneous park raves), then going on an early morning mission for rolling papers. I never did fall back asleep, and sometime around 8 am I suddenly got it into my head to rewatch the Blair Witch Project, which I hadn't seen since it was in theatres. No idea where the urge came from, but the movie was surprisingly as good as I remembered, making me think all the hate it received was nothing more than an ADD-inflicted mainstream backlash.
The next day, Tuesday, we went on a day-trip to Teufelsberg -German for 'Devil's Mountain'(!)-, an awe-inspiring abandoned American spy base outside of Berlin. To get there and back, one must take the S-Bahn twenty minutes, hike through some woods and over some hills, and finally sneak through one of the many holes cut into the fence. During the journey there and back, I noticed a lot of man-made weird stick statues/structures throughout the woods. Negin mentioned that Veronica made several Blair Witch references during their previous visit (was my first time). Having just watched it the day before, I came home and started reading on the making of the film. According to the wikipedia entry, the Blair Witch Project was criticized initially for it resemblance to the film The Last Broadcast, which told the story of a group of documentary makers heading into the New Jersey Pine Barrens in an attempt to film, you guessed it, the legendary New Jersey Devil.
Well, not sure if all that made sense. On a more straight-forward note, anyone interested in seeing my photography of Teufelsberg and the spy base? I must say that if there was any movie this place reminded me of, it was definitely another of the great 90's horror flicks - Session 9.
But so, it turns out the name stems from a local (not-so)-urban legend: a prehistoric flying creature still living deep in the New Jersey Pine Barrens.
I came across this through another bizarre stroke of synchronicity. Last Sunday I had a horrid night of sleeplessness, passing out right after coming home and waking up at 4 am dehydrated (damn! those Sunday evening sponaneous park raves), then going on an early morning mission for rolling papers. I never did fall back asleep, and sometime around 8 am I suddenly got it into my head to rewatch the Blair Witch Project, which I hadn't seen since it was in theatres. No idea where the urge came from, but the movie was surprisingly as good as I remembered, making me think all the hate it received was nothing more than an ADD-inflicted mainstream backlash.
The next day, Tuesday, we went on a day-trip to Teufelsberg -German for 'Devil's Mountain'(!)-, an awe-inspiring abandoned American spy base outside of Berlin. To get there and back, one must take the S-Bahn twenty minutes, hike through some woods and over some hills, and finally sneak through one of the many holes cut into the fence. During the journey there and back, I noticed a lot of man-made weird stick statues/structures throughout the woods. Negin mentioned that Veronica made several Blair Witch references during their previous visit (was my first time). Having just watched it the day before, I came home and started reading on the making of the film. According to the wikipedia entry, the Blair Witch Project was criticized initially for it resemblance to the film The Last Broadcast, which told the story of a group of documentary makers heading into the New Jersey Pine Barrens in an attempt to film, you guessed it, the legendary New Jersey Devil.
Well, not sure if all that made sense. On a more straight-forward note, anyone interested in seeing my photography of Teufelsberg and the spy base? I must say that if there was any movie this place reminded me of, it was definitely another of the great 90's horror flicks - Session 9.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Karmanoia
Sunday night we were over at Tom and Veronica's place on Karl Marx Str. after eating a quick dinner with Paraic and Fernelly. We figured there's not much to do on Sunday night ... but in Berlin you're nearly always proven wrong from such thoughts.
Since they live right around the corner from Karmanoia and there were rumours going 'round that they were about to be shut down by the Polizei, we blazed a quick J and headed over there. There was a small crowd out front and we learned that the Polizei had indeed shown up the night before and this was it .. the final night for the club. They were holding a private party but the word on the street (hehe, literally) was that the doors would be open to the public at midnight. The time was 11:56!...perfect for a quick spatkauf run for roadbeers. We get back and we're waiting, chatting and laughing. Oh, and outside the doors was a pile of scrap wood, possibly the first pieces of the soon-to-be-dismantled labyrinth Karmanoia was so famous for. All of a sudden the doors burst open - one guy outside was hit by a wayward piece of lumber - and a steady stream of people filter out ... there's music, interspersed with the single file line are orchestra members dressed as skeletons, a dog ... CHAOS, essentially.
What followed was an eerie silent street procession winding up through Kreuzberg and to the canal. The band played a lonely, sad tribute while the M.C. for the funeral said a few words and launched Karmanoia's front door key into a watery grave. Then ... the party started, with fireworks, firedancing, people on fire ... kinda. The walk back was much more enjoyable; everyone's mood seemed to have righted itself back to positive. Sensing this, Tom and I took a moment to duck into another spatkauf for roadbeer replenishment.
We caught up again just in time for the finale. A spontaneous dance party took place in the middle of Hermannplatz, including a hobo-ish guy (inexplicably wearing nice white pants) took an extended flute solo. Afterwards they convinced everyone to lie down there in the square, staring up while the finished with some gritty, smokey jazz tunes.
The cherry on top came right as the last composition faded out: a Polizei Paddywagon pulled up and emptied out - I really can't believe they can fit that many popo in there. There was a moment of tension as the final saxophone note drifted off, and then everyone sat up and started applauding. The Polizei didn't quite no how to react, and actually froze and started smiling bashfully. And appropriately, the crowd disintegrated, moving on to the next project.
Since they live right around the corner from Karmanoia and there were rumours going 'round that they were about to be shut down by the Polizei, we blazed a quick J and headed over there. There was a small crowd out front and we learned that the Polizei had indeed shown up the night before and this was it .. the final night for the club. They were holding a private party but the word on the street (hehe, literally) was that the doors would be open to the public at midnight. The time was 11:56!...perfect for a quick spatkauf run for roadbeers. We get back and we're waiting, chatting and laughing. Oh, and outside the doors was a pile of scrap wood, possibly the first pieces of the soon-to-be-dismantled labyrinth Karmanoia was so famous for. All of a sudden the doors burst open - one guy outside was hit by a wayward piece of lumber - and a steady stream of people filter out ... there's music, interspersed with the single file line are orchestra members dressed as skeletons, a dog ... CHAOS, essentially.
What followed was an eerie silent street procession winding up through Kreuzberg and to the canal. The band played a lonely, sad tribute while the M.C. for the funeral said a few words and launched Karmanoia's front door key into a watery grave. Then ... the party started, with fireworks, firedancing, people on fire ... kinda. The walk back was much more enjoyable; everyone's mood seemed to have righted itself back to positive. Sensing this, Tom and I took a moment to duck into another spatkauf for roadbeer replenishment.
We caught up again just in time for the finale. A spontaneous dance party took place in the middle of Hermannplatz, including a hobo-ish guy (inexplicably wearing nice white pants) took an extended flute solo. Afterwards they convinced everyone to lie down there in the square, staring up while the finished with some gritty, smokey jazz tunes.
The cherry on top came right as the last composition faded out: a Polizei Paddywagon pulled up and emptied out - I really can't believe they can fit that many popo in there. There was a moment of tension as the final saxophone note drifted off, and then everyone sat up and started applauding. The Polizei didn't quite no how to react, and actually froze and started smiling bashfully. And appropriately, the crowd disintegrated, moving on to the next project.
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