The Iceman Wrote It

A Few Important Learnings from 2011…

2011-12-22T10:34:00.000-05:00

1.Everything that is broken can always be fixed.
2.Sincerity is a rarely practiced virtue and greatly appreciated by the universe.
3.Valuing people will always yield a higher return than things.
4.What you have is probably not only enough, but a blessing.
5.Write down your goals.
6.Ask before assuming anything. If possible, try to assume positive intent; negativity solves remarkably little.
7.Dream big but be content (not necessarily satisfied) with what you have; this life will be shorter than any of us want it to be and we may look back and say what we thought wasn’t enough was in reality: pretty darn good.
8.When you are tired, sleep.
9.Tell the people you love that you do, often.

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays readers, may 2012 be the best year of your life.
Iceman

Iceman's Summer Playlist 2011

2011-05-24T15:24:00.002-04:00

Back after no popular demand is the Ice's Summer Playlist. Enjoy.

1. Passion Pitt: Moths Wings: Manners

Like Peter Gabriel but new and livelier! The album is at least a year or two old but I heard it this past weekend while moving and really got into the groove. Get yours on.

2. Sam Roberts Band: Collider: Streets of Heaven (Promises Promises)

Everyone knows Ice's is a big fan...

3. Shad: Brother: The Old Prince

New artist doing some old school style rap about relevant topics, great rhymes and he's Canadian (Ethiopian descendant).

4. Tallest Man On Earth: Lion's Heart: The Wild Hunt

One Swedish man on a guitar; imagine new vintage Dylan. The entire album is amazing. Thanks to Jerry Bomb for the reco. If this song doesn't impress you imagine that it was written in a second language. This is one album that I listened to on repeat several times over and only liked more with each turn.

5. Duncan McEntyre: Heartbreaker: Heartbreaker Single

Yep. I said it. Don't buy it; download it for free. Then buy my album for $5. Let's not make this awkward. :)

6. Milosh: Couldn't Sleep: Meme

Guy from Toronto. Thanks to AK in SF for reco. Mellow out people! Better yet, check out the album and take er easy. He's tagged his music as "downtempo" which pretty much says it all.

7. Bon Iver: Calgary: Bon Iver

No brainer. At first I predicted that the kind of heartbreak described in For Emma, Forever Ago would be too hard to replicate. But... If the album is anything like this fine sample, then we're in for a treat.

8. Bob Marley: Slave Driver: Gold

A classic track to get you in the summer mood. Now I know that not everyone is into Bob but think about this: how many artists can you say that you can recognize almost instantly upon hearing LITERALLY any one of his/her songs? That's a big deal so... Respec!

Cheers,
Ice

The Greatest Album Never Heard

2011-04-11T17:58:00.004-04:00

This week the Ice purchased and reviewed his favorite artist's long awaited return to the music world.

Simple Music for a Complicated Life, an album by Duncan McEntyre. $5 http://www.musicforyourbrokenheart.com/

Only once every 20-30 years or so does an album like this come along; I can only describe the weighty oeuvre as such:

Imagine sorrow sliding down a snowy mountain top of fresh fallen angel tears snow flakes into a valley soaked in Budweiser and bourbon. Then on the other side of the valley, heartbreak explodes shattering the mountain top which rains down huge chunks of Gods broken heart. Then in a massive soul shuddering collision of pieces, time slows down for a minute of shear genius in a way that is so beautifully epic that the other 90% of your brain is briefly exposed to existing reality; causing you to understand the authentic taste of love in its purest platonic form.

That's what it sounds like. Buy it. Love it. Play it when your happy, sad, hungry, laughing, or eating.
Simple Music for a Complicated Life goes great with: steak, fish, vegetables, dairy, or cereals.

10/10

The Big Game

2011-02-07T15:24:00.005-05:00

“Welcome back to our live coverage of The-Ford-F1200-Super-Charged-Series-Avalanche/Crossover-Super-Bowl-42 at the Sony-FlatWave-Technology-Georgia-Dome™ in downtown Atlanta, Georgia. We’re talking to Dr. Herbert Grazenschlosser; head of Organic Bio Chemistry of Agriculture at the University of Lincoln Nebraska. Hello Dr. Grazenschlosser.”

“Hello”

“Doctor, can you tell us a little bit about the grass on the field tonight?”

“Well it’s a hybrid blend of two grass strains commonly used in NFL stadiums and a revolutionary new strain of high alkaline PolyAlkaIonNitrate Grass™.”

“Tell us Doctor what does that mean for tonight’s game (nodding in concurrence with a deeply knitted brow)?”

“Well Tikki, it means that the grass is going to be tougher, lighter, and rougher. Traditional grass is heavier and smoother which causes the cleats to grip into the blades with less traction and less grip. But, with the revolutionary new Synthetic-Cross-Germination-Technology® and addition of PolyAlkaIonNitrate Grass™or “P.L.A.I.N. Grass,” the poly fiber cleat gains more grip on the blades allowing for more torque; essentially giving the football player a faster, more powerful game on the ground.”

“Thank you Doctor and enjoy the game tonight. Well folks there you have it, I’m no chemical engineer and the grass may not be greener but it certainly ‘might be better.’ Now lets take a look at The-Gatorade-3-Calorie-CoolMyst-Athletic-Beverage-Lineup™ for tonight’s game before taking a break from our sponsors.”

A Toast...

2010-12-23T11:07:00.004-05:00

As another year comes to an end and new one begins; may we resolve to not only look back at our achievements and learn from our mistakes; but to apply those lessons to the future with open hearts and minds.

Let us remember that if something isn’t broken; then it shouldn’t necessarily need to be fixed; and everything that is broken can always be fixed.

Let us be charitable to our instincts and trusting of our hearts- even if what they’re saying isn’t always practical. Good things aren't always reasonable or convenient in your life at their time of inception.

Let us live life knowing that time moves in one direction and that it is ticking down and so:
• Let this not be a reason for sorrow but a reason to rejoice in the life we’ve been given.
• Let this give us permission to dream big.
• Be proud of your fathers and love your mothers as they do you.
• Trust that positive interaction will always triumph over negative and that sometimes winning a battle requires laying down your weapons and walking away.

And perhaps most importantly: be thankful for our friends, family and acquaintances: knowing that when we look back on our lives; on our certain deathbeds; we will not remember things, but the people we knew.

Amen.

Days of Late Vol. 3: Start/Stop

2010-10-11T13:03:00.019-04:00

Tom looked into the mirror. He didn't look that different from the last time he weighed in on his Self but he wondered how many times had he stared at his own face while: shaving, brushing his teeth, putting contact lenses in his eyes, and hadn't noticed himself looking back.

He looked out the window at a grey and impatient sky and the brittle leaves brushing up against the red brick. People scurried below with a new but familiar haste; their heads cupped deep into their scarves like pigeons into their plumage into cool wind. He noticed that his bare feet were cold only because it would be the only time in 5 months that they would be required to let him know.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he would cook breakfast and have a coffee by himself in his small apartment and read the newspaper. He'd forgotten about the world and felt it was time to check in again. After breakfast he poked around his apartment: cleaning and fixing odd things that required that small (but necessary) bit of attention. Among these were his plants, which now sagged- waiting patiently for just a sip of water. When he finally fed them he felt guilty that he could be so neglectful of these few things that depended on him; things that could so easily be cared for and in reality required very little maintenance in the first place.

Thankfully, like so many relationships of reciprocity, his plants could endure just enough drought to survive. He wondered about those who had forgotten about him like he’d forgotten about his plants; resolving to offer them an unspoken forgiveness in exchange for his own guilt.

Isn't Life just like that? He thought. With summer come and gone and Labor Day deep in his rearview mirror it was time to look forward. "You can't keep running on the same tires and you can't drive forever with out stopping for gas," he thought. Tom noticed, during these fermatas in time, the minor repairs that need be done. Evaluating what had come to pass, Tom considered the lessons learned and applied them to his plans for the future.

Maybe it wasn't so bad that so many good things in life would come to an end. Maybe life's challenge was its Endless Cyclical Format; constantly changing the variables: thus demanding our continual change and adaptation as we struggle to achieve our abstract ideals. When Tom realized the correlation between times of reflection and the changing seasons, it seemed less coincidental but rather: quite obvious.

Like the loss of or end of any: thing, person, or time in your life; there comes a requisite mourning; it happens all the time, in some capacity or another; everyday even; beginnings and ends; over and over again.

He cleaned the window inside and out before closing it for the long cold months that lay ahead; he wiped it down diligently so that the sun would be welcome to pass through with ease should it choose to visit; a small but poignant, defiant act to engage the coming season and its impending and inherent challenges.

He yawned, stretched out his stiff back: reaching for the ceiling with his fists clenched. A smile began to stretch across his face as he considered the new season and everything it would offer him whence he pulled his coat from the closet and braved the stubborn Canadian cold.

Days of Late Vol 1 & 2

Iceman's Late Summer Playlist 2010

2010-08-23T07:50:00.014-04:00

Ice is back with another one! Here’s what I got in the regular rotation this summer:

Passion Pit- Little Secrets

Ice discovered this song (one of the last to do so at that…) recently and fell in love with its energy. I find it hard not to dance badly to this track. It’s the new anthem for the end of my summer 2010 and if you play your cards right it could be yours too.

CLICK FOR VIDEO

Future Islands- Walking Through That Door

This guy’s voice is quite particular like Tom Gray of Gomez or Tom Waits. FI was thrown my way by my buddy Jared this summer while lounging by his pool; the album kinda’ changed my life. Future Islands is pure and catchy synth pop that tackles slightly bigger topics and its consistent cover to cover.

CLICK FOR VIDEO

Arcade Fire- Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)

No introduction needed. This song is sung by: Regine and its synth pop sound fits nicely on this Playlist. It’s a Refreshing track from a band that isn’t afraid to try different things and do them well.

CLICK FOR VIDEO

Gowan- Moonlight Desires

This is a total guilty pleasure. Since becoming close with my friends Dave and Hil I’ve been enduring a slow death-by-80’s-music to the effect that I’m actually starting to like some of it.

Recently, my friend Casie-lea played this in her car and I freaked out. Turns out this guy (and his mullet) are Canadian! No apology or shame assumed for recommending this.

CLICK FOR VIDEO

Mumford & Sons- Timshel

My lovely little Blonde friend from Poland recommended this band to me recently and I really liked it. They sound Irish but are from London. The singer has a fabulous voice and this song features most of the band singing harmony; it’s amazing.

CLICK FOR VIDEO

Jackie Wilson- (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher & Higher

My favorite place to go in Toronto is called Reservoir Lounge- an underground live jazz bar that seems to somehow not be tacky (even in Toronto). On Friday nights Dee-Dee and The Dirty Martinis play all the classics, including this song a few Fridays ago. Jackie Wilson doesn’t just have a cool hairdo. He’s got chops man! Definitely going to be featured in an Ice Wedding someday.

CLICK FOR VIDEO

Ani DiFranco- Joyful Girl

Ice met this artist recently at his cottage Church service. I’ve always known of her and her robust cult following but never really given her a listening. Ani has two songs that I love: You Had Time and Joyful Girl- by way of the version by Soulive featuring Dave Mathews on vocals. I decided to hear her live version last week and kinda fell in love with it.

She wrote this song for her Mother who, incidentally, I sat beside at a similar cottage country community type dinner last summer. Ani’s mother is a kooky ‘ol gal with an affinity for headbands and art. A nice tribute to her I suppose. Thought you’d like it too.

CLICK FOR VIDEO

Massive Attack- Protection

This is a big song from my teenaged years. Protection was the first song on Massive Attack’s album of the same name. Featuring the vocals of Everything But the Girl’s Tracey Thorn. This was the first song at a friends wedding recently and I took me back to place in my life when I really began to fall in love with music as a teenager. It was also a time when love and relationships took up so much real-estate in your esteem because we hadn’t learned to manage it on our own yet.

Although; I find that the songs people love the best are usually the ones that you seem to identify with in such a specific manner that it feels like an extension of your own psyche. In high school relationships seem to be about figuring out simple life lessons, together; I think that those moments are big and the songs that came with them are hard to forget.

CLICK FOR VIDEO

Have a great summer; let’s have a chat about what to listen too in the fall/winter when it gets cold.

Ice

Before the Sunset

2010-07-15T17:58:00.003-04:00

Oliver would meet Antonia outside her dorm at Georgetown. DC was still hot in late September and they would sip cold teas in the afternoon shade. Though it had only been three or four years since they’d seen each other, it seemed longer. Oliver would inquire into her rigorous academic life in Medical School, life in DC, and other formalities of interest. Oddly, their reunion would once again be set on a campus during class hours, although neither party had been students for quite some time.

Antonia surprised him with her keen memory of his character and various details of his life. They had only really known each other for a few short weeks to begin with, but apparently shared a few common interests that would prove quite resilient: common interests and a mutual sense of humor which would provide the backbone of their conversation. Oliver always felt he had to earn Antonia's sense of humor; a challenge and fact he appreciated.

With a strange sense of trust they would share their ambitions, fears, pet peeves and dreams. They shared music recommendations and sought out each others advice on everything between relationships to must-see must-eat locations around DC (where Oliver would be doing business for the next few days).

Soon they would find themselves recalling incidents and anecdotes of hilarity, humility, heartbreak, and achievement. They would discuss music at length and their polarized opinions of self-help books. They traded war stories of past employment postings: comparing battle scars of lavish tales of evil managers and bosses over the years. They swapped the tales of their travels and subsequent adventures across the globe.

In these moments Oliver realized that although the vectors of their lives were completely exclusive to one-another’s; the structures, lessons, and morals were nearly identical.

He thought hard about what it meant to have and to be a friend. He was surprised to have found such value and affect in a friend like Antonia, given that her temporal role in his life was actually minuscule. There were no answers to why or how it was that he could so easily confide personal and intimate details of his life in someone he rarely spoke to. What became obvious was the truth that no matter how remote a friend can be, there would always be a value in dropping them a line; even just to say hello.

As their hour expired, Oliver and Antonia kissed each other on opposite cheeks; walked their separate ways; resolving to be in touch more often.

If My Life Were Like a Movie II

2010-07-09T10:02:00.010-04:00

1. I’d have a torrid love affair with Natalie Portman and our scuffs would be solved by my playing guitar for her in our huge loft.
2. There’d be jump-cut scenes of Natalie Portman and myself:
-Having a pillow fight.
-Lying in a hammock.
-Walking out of restaurants holding hands- while wearing scarves.
-Kissing in the kitchen while unidentified breakfast food burned on the stove-top behind us.

Note: The montage would be to the tune of The National’s 'Vanderlye Crybaby Geeks.'

3. I’d live in New York.
4. I’d often not be wearing a shirt.
5. I’d shoot guns at bad guys and wear Persols doing so.
6. I’d always have flashbacks of my life in cool European cities.
7. The streets would always be wet; even when it’s sunny.
8. My conversations would resemble any given convo in Richard Linklater's films: Before Sunrise and Before Sunset
9. I’d never look at explosions that went off behind me. I’d just walk away; in my Persols.

The Beach

2010-07-03T08:08:00.015-04:00

She didn’t say much; a quality he found as disarming as her fair complexion and temperate demeanor.

He never noticed just how much armour he wore until he met someone who quite simply did not test it. It all seemed so heavy now- heavy and trite.

He obliged, and took her cue: deciding not to hear himself talk either. Dropping his armour, he breathed, and pulled a book out from his beach bag. But he found it difficult to ignore the curious creature lying next to him as he struggled to dig into the unforgiving text. Closing the book, he considered his company.

He was surprised to find a strange comfort in her silence. It wasn't demanding, nor was it cold; it just was. And getting used to it required a focus that he hadn't conjured for quite some time. In her he found no calculating, no scheming, no plot or plan: no offence or defense: she would not pose as an opponent to spar with over witty banter and clever anecdote. Instead, there was just the quiet and complex presence of another soul to consider.

With nothing to say he looked at her. She looked back at him and offered a smile behind dark sunglasses.

A moment later he dusted the sand from his shins, and walked down to the lake’s edge. There he would stand with his feet in the cool water and clear his thoughts watching the waves roll in and a tall ship blowing across the horizon some distance away.

If every person was a language, he was not yet familiar with her particular dialect, but he found her company both refreshing and intriguing. He took comfort knowing that he not only had the tools to learn her language- but now, the understanding that it would just take time and a little patience.

New York Rnd 3: Part 1

2010-05-31T17:09:00.017-04:00

People: places: stupidities.

My weekend in NYC played out in a few specific places; it was less of a tourist trip and more of a 'Tag-Along-With-Locals-Weekend.' Placing myself in the capable hands of NYC residents I found a new experience that was much more introspective (see: New York Rnd 3: Part 2 for more…) but this entry is about the highlights.

Thursday:
3:00pm
-Benny’s Burritos in Greenwich Village. 3$ Margaritas and the best burrito I’ve ever had period.

6:00pm-Midnight:

-Cocktails on Ballstein’s 42nd Floor SkyDeck: brilliant sunset, rocking tunes care of Deif’s Bose Sound Dock, dancing, drinking etc, and an incredible view (as you can see above).

Friday:
2:00-5:00pm
-Wandered through the city (directionless) from Chelsea to The Park and back down Broadway.

5:00pm- 6:30pm
Ran down the bike path on the West Side Highway (Hudson River). Glorious. More babes than a man could ever dream of; Iceman nearly buckles at the knees.

7:00pm-11:00pm
The Frying Pan and Sushi in the West Village with my pal Katie from Philly. The Frying Pan is a ship/boat docked off West 26th where buckets of Corona are opened and served faster than they probably come off the bottling line on a global scale. Anyway, the boat is frikin’ rammed with a wide spectrum of professionals who are all ‘talking’ at the top of their lungs over loud and very shrill music.

11:00pm-1:00am
Anfora Wine Bar: with my pal AK and a bunch of equally bright and engaging babes; met some great people and had a truckload of laughs. The only draw back was having to navigate my way through the West Village after dark with about 5 Coronas down the hatch. The West Village road map makes about as much sense as an M.C. Escher sketch. Fortunately, a few lovely Italian women pointed me in the right direction. Chalk one up for Italy!

Saturday:
Walked the entire city with my pal Katie from Philly:
-Burgers for breakfast (for me at least!) at Burger Joint in Le Parker Meridian (Iceman Rating: 9).
-Checked out the view of the park from on top of the New York Athletic Club.

-Walked the High Line in Meat Packing (bumped into AK and her folks!).
-Saw a random/free Monet Exhibit and did even more walking.
-7:00pm: Crash. Burn. Iceman does not compute.

Sunday:

1:00-2:00pm: Brunch at Pastis: simply amazing.
2:00pm-10:30pm: Drinking on the roof top pool deck of the Soho House with TB, Ballstein, and B-Town (my personal Sidekick of Booze). Iceman Burger Rating: 8.

Monday: Zzzzzzzzzzz….ZZZZZZZZZZ!...... ZzzzzZZZzzzzzzzz! Aaaaand... Another burger at Newark Intl.

Thanks to all the good people who made this trip another great experience.

Ice.

New York Rnd 3: Part 2.

2010-05-31T16:49:00.006-04:00

If you should fall from your raft in heavy water, White Water Rafting Guides recommend that you relax, ride the current, and wait to wash a shore or back to the raft. It’s safer and less wasteful of your time and energy than trying to fight the current.

* * *

This trip to NYC was different. Iceman had originally laid out an elaborate spreadsheet of how he was going to spend his weekend. It was supposed to be neat; tidy; everything was supposed to go exactly as planned.

It turns out nothing in my life has truly gone to plan as of recently, and so it was only fitting that I choose the same solution for my weekend. Life doesn’t always agree with your plans so you have to improvise sometimes. Luckily, Iceman is quite familiar with this phenomenon so instead of fighting the current, he simply let it go; using his Blackberry as his compass guiding him towards friendly faces and walking in directions chosen by green lights and sunny sides of the street. I weaved through the city: consuming, processing, and dismissing millions of faces, sounds, smells, and decisions. I saw a human sized Elmo, Sponge Bob Square Pants, and a Tibetan Monk on a cell phone. I’m pretty sure I saw a Perfect 10 outside The Standard. I thought about my life and where it’s going. I thought about how I would keep paddling (in any direction) through my immediate future.

New York is a place where the current of life runs swift, heavy, and has a deep undertow. Luckily I have a collection of very high quality friends so during my time here I was able to tap into their thoughts on how life should run and how they keep paddling. I asked them about their passions and watched as their faces lit up in the telling. In a way, I steered my raft into their waters; for an hour, an evening, a drink, or for a walk about the city; trusting their navigation and casually watching (not hoping) to see where I ended up.

In the end, I’m note sure where I landed. But I know that I am back in my raft largely because the people I turned to in search of direction, advice, and friendship gave me their time, shared their stories, and assured me that I’m moving in the right direction.

* * *

The common bond between this particular collection of highly functioning and high achieving friends is that they also required approval, assurance, and consolation. They also worry, feel alone, and are afraid sometimes. But none of them lack ambition, drive, and the self-belief that they can achieve higher and higher goals (both personally and professionally). This is precisely why I keep such friends; they all seam find inspiration for their interests in different places; I find it not only fascinating to investigate but also mutually inspiring.

Ultimately, my weekend turned into a series of engaging conversations with amazing people about life- in a place that seems to (quite poignantly) embody so much possibility. I came to New York with the intention of connecting with the people that intrigue and inspire me. I came with the intention of parking my story to listen to theirs; and learn. I came with the intention of conveying to them how equally important they are to me despite the different and various sized roles they play in my life. I came to eat more bugers.

To all of you, thank you so much for such a great trip to the Big Apple.

Xo

Iceman

Karl and The Fork in The Road

2010-04-30T12:41:00.014-04:00

"There comes a time in a man's life where he either has what he wants or the excuses as to why he doesn't."
-Andy Roddick (according to The White Knight).

----------------

Karl found himself asking this question as he framed the contract and hung it conspicuously on his wall- a reminder that he trusted people to be honorable; and decent. He needed a stark reminder for his foolishness and this would be it.

What he didn't have was obvious; but now the only exit from this dead-end section of life's maze was to humbly retrace his steps; to go back the way he came; to search for the fork wherein he chose the wrong way.

On his journey, Karl bumped into the people he'd seen and spoken too along the way. To his delight, many remembered his face, his laugh, and their brief encounter. Many offered him advice, shelter, and a bite to eat. People who asked him tough questions- questions he accepted and solemnly digested. Some scolded him for the distance he kept since their last encounter. Karl, atoned for his transgressions and spoke the truth in hope that he'd regain their good favor.

As he made his way back to that fork; he was careful not to give false directions knowing that the dead end he'd found was his, and not necessarily another's.

He was careful to be grateful and thankful to the people who extended their generosity, encouragement, and hospitality.

He was especially careful with the people who sought faith, advice, and trust in him. He was careful not to abuse their trust and their vulnerabilities. Karl had very little now but his character and faith that life would meet him somewhere in the middle. He hoped that it would happen sooner than later.

In a moment of solitude, Karl remembered a friend who had recently confessed to having prayed for him every week. Perhaps it was time to start praying for them too.

----------------
"You that would judge me, do not judge alone
This book or that, come to this hallowed place
Where my friends’ portraits hang and look thereon;
Ireland’s history in their lineaments trace;
Think where man’s glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends."

-W.B. Yeats

Maxi

2010-04-21T18:18:00.006-04:00

Things seemed strange after the procedure and Caleb felt a little out of sorts. The people he knew looked at him with concerned looks; they called him with concerned voices. They cared cause they knew her and they knew his love for her like they did their own spouses. He understood what had happened and that it was his choice in the end but he didn’t truly feel anything; he didn’t feel the gravity yet. He supposed it was easier to move on now that he could not see, hear, touch, or smell her.

What he really wanted was to get up, walk away; forget about the whole thing; clear his head. But social convention told him otherwise. There would be less confusion and hassle if he atoned for his state of mind; like a forced catharsis. He knew that if he simply got up and walked away, they would only have cause for more concern and press further. He felt pity but mostly guilt.

Later on at home his head would pound after repeating the story so many times that he questioned the validity of it in the first place.

He would look into the mirror and notice that his face had grown older. His shoulders felt lighter but his eyes felt heavier as did his heart. Knowing that his choice was the right thing for the both of them was not the hard part. The hard part was accepting the sobering truth that time is passing, and that everything in life would live and die: dreams, plans, moments, memories, friendships, hatred, misunderstandings and love. He was grateful for all that they had, but knew that their future now would bring only a suffering that no longer yielded a profit and the end of the day.

-------------------

He’d found Maxi nearly 8 years earlier, brought her home and cared for her. He fought hard to understand her and she in turn, braved her fears to accept him and his home he’d made for her. Over the years they became friends and ultimately grew to love each other. But Maxi grew old fast; seven short years for his one. In her 7th year with him, she developed cancer. Despite Caleb’s best efforts to save her, he could only prolong her death with band-aid pills solutions, which in reality merely slowed the time but could not stop it.

A slave to her own blind loyalty; Maxi would still run for the tennis ball he’d throw in the park despite the crippling pain she was in. It wouldn’t be long before he realized that no matter how sick Maxi would become, that she would run beside him until the day she collapses at his feet.
He simply could not live with himself if it ended that way and he knew what he had to do.

-------------------

Now, Maxi’s memory was all around him in pictures, the empty bowl by the back door and her pink collar the vet had given him afterward. He looked into the mirror and cried harder than he could remember for a long him.

Lady Gaga

2010-03-19T11:54:00.008-04:00

Iceman is rarely stopped in his tracks when it comes to popular music/culture. Today I was sent a link to watch Lady Gaga’s new video: Telephone. I can only really say a few things that aren’t obvious.

1. Rarely is a pop song actually good AND has an amazing video to back it up.

2. Rarely can music videos ‘barrow’ 3rd party creative content from someone like Tarantino successfully, and tastefully (as if Tarantino content can be described as ‘tasteful’); meaning that it fits into the general creative concept of the video as a whole.

3. Great move for Beyonce from a creative credibility stand point. Taking a backseat in a ‘rival’ pop product’s video is a great was to maximize creative awesomeness, gain new audience exposure, and create something memorable. It also shows camaraderie and appreciation of peer content.

4. Pop music is often quite competitive in American culture and Ice believes that people can smell the difference between a purely money-making-collaboration and an honest one like shit on a shoe. This video leaves me with the impression that Gaga invited Beyonce on board and she affectionately obliged citing creative interest. Smoking Cigarette Sunglasses, Coke Can hair curlers?!? Who wouldn’t want to be in that video?

5. This video is like pop culture on speed (which is poignant for Gaga’s overall creative thesis). The sheer creative flow that gaga possesses is probably as boundless as anyone in history (big statement alert!). Her public persona is pure showbiz; the outfits, the videos, the interviews and the performances: all show biz. I get absolutely zero gauge on who she is in reality but what I do think is that she is not going to burn out offstage/personally. I believe she is in complete control of her brand of lunacy and that her craft is truly a modern day masterpiece.

6. She uses all Medias creatively and seems to have captured her audience not so much by the shock value but by the sheer vehicle of curiosity; the WTF factor in perfect effect.

7. Watch this video; it is in my opinion, the most comprehensive piece of Multimedia-Artwork I think I’ve ever seen in 9 minutes (humbling even Michael Jackson’s videos). For a song and dance, she is the real deal. Lady Gaga is not to be underestimated because a) she doesn’t look like she’s happy to be along for the ride, she looks like she in the driver’s seat of a single seated sports car, eyes fixed with the pedal to the metal. And b)she possesses an obvious discipline which seems to run through her core which (I think) ads a truly credible element to her work.

Bravo.

The Island

2010-02-25T15:16:00.041-05:00

New York City Rnd 2

In less than 48hrs I managed to cram in as much of the cities goods as anyone could; without the use of uppers. Let’s recap:

Nightlife:
1. Marie’s Crisis; a piano bar in a basement wherein a truly remarkable spectrum of people sing along to show tunes (VERY few of which I know). Strangely, Ice doesn’t feel awkward at all. Ice even goes so far as to drink a lot of Whiskey out of a plastic picnic cup and belt out some lines from The Sound of Music.
-Exit: 3:45am after accosting the piano player about how great he was and that I’m from Canada. Ice gives himself a gold star for this.
-Never have I experienced something as authentic and unpretentious for what it was; sadly it's the kind of thing (authenticity) you simply can not find in Canada.

2. Bar Pitti; Italian “no production” eatery on Bleeker and 6th; plenty of celebs (we saw a few D-listers whom Ice won’t even bother to call out ‘cause it’s tacky). I highly recommend this place; my friend Adam (who I am absolutely nuts about) eats there all the time and (of course) has the management in his pocket. Go to Bar Pitti if only to catch a glimpse of Adam's celebrity, have the Bolognese too. Ciao.

3. Minetta Tavern (Street?)
My buddy Ballstein is one of the best human Zagat Handbooks you can meet; Malcolm Gladwell would call him a Connector. Anyway, it's great to have friends like him in strange place, and you're always in good hands when it comes to NYC tourism re: nightlife.

Even better is that Ballstein knows that The Ice abhors clubs and the like. So, we wound up at Minetta Tavern: black and white checkered floors, literary/journalist portraits plastering the walls, bartenders in white aprons, antiqued mirrors, booths as far as the eye can see, good people, and great music (blues/jazz).

Shopping:

5th Avenue:
Jesus. Shopping for women on 5th Ave in Midtown is about as raucous as Mogul skiing. My advice for men: keep your head on a swivel, tape your ankles, and don’t get between a woman and her merchandise!

Soho:
Iceman nearly had a panic attack. Imagine said 5th Ave experience but multiply the pedestrian density by a factor of at least 3. Add the fact that EVERYONE is wearing Wayfarers; it's like you’re at a 3D screening of Avatar.

Advice: be prepared to swim through rivers of Olsen Twin look-a-likes and avoid Top Shop like the plague or bring Atavan to cope with the angst(both your own and ambient).

Nike Town:
Pretty much lost my mind in a sea of sports crap- like a kid in a candy store.

Pigeons:
NYC pigeons are like armored tumble weeds. I literally had to step OVER one while walking downtown. They’re more irreverent than Raccoons (very possibly more filthy?), and about as erratic in directional movement as Pee-Wee hockey players in scrimmage. And, like most locals in the city, they don’t even notice you when you almost slam into them- caring even less when you actually do.

Fun: Try jumping over them- Mario Bros style.

People/Conversations:
Given the fact that people living in NYC are ‘usually’ up to something all the time, conversation is almost exclusively interesting. In fact- I always feel a little out of my league and I’m ok with that. It’s like sneaking into a cool party and hoping that the bouncer doesn’t find you out.
Mind you, it helps that a) I choose to spend my time with some of the finest and brightest people anyone could know (something the Ice takes a lot of pride in) and b) Ice REALLY likes people which makes acheiving my desired result much easier.

Burgers:

Ice goes for Round 2 in the Thunder-domes of Burger:
Café Cluny and Shake Shack: my favs. After downing a cool 7 to 10Gs of caloric intake in 48hrs, and several Mouth Orgasms, Ice hits the wall on Sunday afternoon; bringing me to my next point.

With every High, a Low:
Leaving the city comes with a low that can only be likened to the crash 20 minutes after a nice hot chocolate. A friend alluded to my having rose colored glasses all weekend. I denied wearing such glasses but admitted to having had Rose Colored Laser Eye Surgery. But, despite this obvious handicap/bias regarding my opinion of New York, I am willing to accept the low.

Case in point: Penn station. It's about as cozy as the airport in Total Recall. Furthermore, the train to Jersey smells like hot dog wiener and is filled with leopard print hand bags and strikingly buff teenagers with spiky hair.

It’s a sobering and almost necessary consolation for leaving the city. As I looked out over Jersey and onto Manhattan from Newark Intl Airport, I could see and feel the presence of the bubble that exists around the city- reminding me of its very tangible essence (ref: "1. Camelot"). I immediately started to drink upon arriving at the departure lounge; this helped ease the pain.

Conclusion:
"New York; I’m good at it." -Ice on Sunday afternoon.

I am and I can’t wait to go back.

12/25

2009-12-18T11:21:00.009-05:00

Oliver woke not to the sound of a stirring, but to the sound of his own excitement; like a tiny rubber ball bouncing off the walls of his brain. Looking across his room he could see his sister Claudia’s face faintly illuminated by the grey morning light now seeping through the window. She slept peacefully- in way that made him jealous and pity her all at once. The sun had just begun to rise behind a ceiling of grey clouds and the millions of snow flakes slowly falling from the sky.

Oliver lay still for a moment, knowing that it was too early to wake up. But soon his conscience began to salivate at all the excitement, the possibility, and the bounty that lay upstairs- patiently biding it’s time in the warmth of a wool stocking and in the cool shade of a tree.

Oh, the waiting!

Oliver’s head began to swirl with curiosity and agony. Again he looked to Claudia, asleep in the bed adjacent, hoping that perhaps she too felt the same way! And that they could spring free from their chambers and make a break for the fireplace together! But, no such luck would fall upon him; Claudia slept away like she always did, possibly dreaming of horses, Jujubes, and dolls.

A minute passed. Then two… Three minutes passed! Oliver couldn’t wait any longer. He sprung from his bed in his favorite skeleton pajamas and raced to the bedroom door, peeking out the crack: clear!

Expertly avoiding all the creaky wooden boards he’d memorized, Oliver snuck down the hall where, as silent as a black cat, he made his way upstairs. At the top he could see that the dining room table was set for breakfast. Snow flakes fell upward towards the sky as they passed through concave sides of empty wine glasses on the table by the window. Outside he could see green pine trees lazily drooping downwards; exhausted by the weight of the snow piled precariously high upon each branch big and small, like icing.

Suddenly (out of the corner of his little eye) he caught a movement which startled him. Across the living room black sooty dust slowly floated down from the chimney into the fire pit. Terrified and excited at once, Oliver froze (eyes fixed) as he briefly witnessed the sole of a boot shake swiftly and ascend out of view (without a sound)! Racing over to the mantle, Oliver saw nothing more; so boots, no red coat, and no Santa. Turning around he would notice the shiny boxes wrapped with ribbons under the tree; new exciting evidence which rekindled his belief and raised his spirits once more.

Heart racing, Oliver would run down the upstairs hall towards the master bedroom and crack open the door with the same care and stealth as he’d done downstairs.

Peeking into the room he could hear the taps running in the wash closet where his Grandmother was bathing. Beyond, he could see his grandfather sitting upright in bed (hair standing on end- one pale hairy leg stretched out, up over the covers) scribbling on a crossword puzzle. Oliver would meet his Grandfathers smiling grey-blue eyes as if expecting him.

“Well? Oliver, let’s see what Santa brought you!?!”

Shrieking with joy Oliver ran down the hall once again; his flat feet pounding on the wooden floors waking Claudia below.

Iceman's Autumn Playlist 09

2009-10-24T15:53:00.020-04:00

Ice presents a mix bag of good songs. Some are great to listen to before you hit the town, some better for lonelier times, some to listen to while you flip through an old photo album, some for dinner parties and one or two for throw back enjoyment. All of them: for Autumn.

CLICK SONG TITLES TO LISTEN/SEE VIDEOS!!!

Phoenix- 1901

Kick it off with some pop. This song is a guilty pleasure; the entire album is a guilty pleasure; the entire album sounds like the same song, except that that song is really good. Verdict: this band may only live to have a short shelf life but it’s worth every guilty moment.

Julian Casablancas- 11th Dimension

A buddy Ice used to work with needs a huge shout out for this selection, as he has quickly become my new music dealer. He will be identified as the ‘White Knight’ from here on out.

This song sounds like Nintendo or Sega Genesis at 10,000 Volts. I have argued successfully that The Strokes’ lead singer actually recorded the sound of pure Electricity- and a lot of it at that. This track is a bit of a guilty pleasure as well, but less so because his musical genes (The Strokes etc.) are going to stick around a little longer than Phoenix will. Crank this up and party like the F#$&!ng rock star you are.

Clarence Carter- Slip Away

The Icewoman’s little brother seams to have some sort of sixth sense for unknown gems when it comes to music. Clarence Carter has a pretty solid catalogue and this is his most popular song according to iTunes. For those of you who enjoyed my last Playlist, you may find this tune worth a purchase.

Clarence Carter not only has an amazing name, but he comes from an era/form of music where artists would sing entire songs about one simple feeling or question. Nowadays artists (Iceman included) try to tackle huge subjects in every song but artists like Carter, Gaye, and Redding kept it simple; it worked then and still does today. This song is about an affair.

Led Zeppelin- Hey What Can I Say

I’ve always appreciated the Zep but this song more so because of The White Knight.” We often discuss a) how awesome Robert plant is and b) what a daft woman he seams to be singing of. Enjoy this track again; and lay of the pot dude.

Elton John- Mona Lisa’s and Mad Hatters

Watching ‘Almost Famous’ the other day this song played and I fell in love with this song again; it’s about New York City.

Unfortunately, Ice was not old enough to appreciate a ‘young’ Elton John. As I dig through his old performances I lament missing out on him in the same way I do B.B. King- who unbeknownst to any young audience was also incredible once but has, like Elton John, found his way into a hokey existence of performances which are garment heavy, full of predictable Radio hits, and motivational blabber.

Nonetheless like Priscilla Ahn’s (See her selection in this playlist) simple ballad, Elton’s old stuff like this reminds you how personal these songs were to him and that these songs were written with blood sweat and tears by himself at a piano on a bench. The final products of these songs are usually dressed up and when played in concert with smoke, lights, and fifteen people on stage: that personal connection between artist and song is lost. This song and video is a window into that connection.

I’ve also mentioned in old posts that the best make it look easy. When I watch Elton John’s face as he sings in this ’72 video, it looks so easy that it’s heartbreaking. It really is.

Sam Roberts- Dark Eyes

Take a Bob Dylan song, have it sung by Sam Roberts and what do you get? Amazing.

Ra Ra Riot- Winter ‘05

Ice’s friend Alex suggested this tune. I was impressed with this reco; it makes me want to wear a Nordic sweater and dash through the snow. Winter seams OK when I listen to this song, keep them coming!

Note: Ice could only find a studio version video set to Michel Gondry’s Science of Sleep, sorry.

Priscilla Ahn- Dream

Another gem found by Icewoman’s ‘lil bro. This song incidentally brought me near tears the first time I heard it. I am always amazed how someone like Priscilla can bring a fresh take on the combination of guitar and words. Her voice is nothing short of angelic and I know anyone who takes the time to listen to this song will like it too.

Beirut- Elephant Gun

The sound of Beirut seams to embody an autumn spirit. Beirut is a guy from Albuquerque, NM who traveled the world and fell in love with Balkan music. Whereas some songs require playing ‘Air Guitar’ to be enjoyed; Beirut requires ‘Air Conductor;’ try it it’s fun. It also goes well with Red wine, Dancing, and general merry making.

Be well; eat Coq-Au-Vin; carve pumpkins; drink full-bodied ales, strong whisky’s and square up with friends and family

And thanks to the lovely people who not only talk about music with Iceman but also pass great music along! Don’t be shy to leave comments.

Ice.

An Empire State of Mind

2009-09-23T14:29:00.018-04:00

New York- Like Love it is as simple as it is complex. Given that many, many writers- faaaaaar more talented than The Ice have struggled through entire lifetimes trying to describe it; I’ll take a shot at describing my four-day trip to the Big Apple in point form.

1. Camelot- there exists a very tangible spirit here. New York isn’t so much a place as it is an idea. Like love, everyone knows what it is but no two people describe it in the same way; like trying to imagine a googolplex.

2. Weight- there are people beneath your feet, thundering through the underground; there are people at your side, in your way and you’re in theirs; there are people above you (in every sense)- it's a 3 dimensional experience. You can’t help feeling like you are part of a matrix rather than a separate piece of a scattered puzzle.

3. Beauty- From a philosophical point of view I recognize that beauty is something people mostly 'choose' to see (save for unexplainable phenomenon like diamonds (or CZs!), stars in the sky, the Montreal Canadians logo or Roger Federer’s backhand. For the the sake of this essay I saw it in two ways:

a. The Aesthetic: New York is full of beauty: the buildings, the flows of people on the streets, the women, Central Park, and the list goes on.

b. The Intangible: I’ve never seen a place so full of purpose- there lies an intangible beauty in the spirit, will, and the all-American-sense-of inclusiveness that engages the soul brave enough to ask for: directions, a tour of an office, a recommendation (of any kind), to see an old friend even if it’s for only an hour, or the simple question: ‘how are you’ to a perfect stranger. I came here with the intention of engaging this place- leaving my self vulnerable in my earnestness with nothing but the hope of receiving the unknown in return. I was met with kindness, help, and smiles- I even made a couple new friends here- not bad for a four day trip.

4. Burgers- I meant to see four museums and found four Burger joints instead; 4 Burgers; 4 days:

1) Cluny Café (West Village)- $16- Best one of the trip.
2) Prime Burger (57th and 6th) - $5.95- Very good. Love the old school waiters in lab coats.
3) Barmarche (Soho) - $12- Meh… Only eat half, nice resto though.
4) Shake Shack (Madison and 23rd)- $5.75- A-mazing.

5. Hard Core- In New York, no matter what the F you’re into there’s a whole crew of people doing the same thing. And… they’re more hard-core than you. Trust me. No matter what it is, someone in NYC is more hard-core than you at that thing, and it’s OK.

6. Music- I had the good fortune of hearing a song called Empire State of Mind by Jay-Z and Alicia Keys upon my arrival; literally, as I walked into a friend's apartment from my flight in. What a track. I highly recommend if you come the NYC, that you choose an Anthem to soundtrack your time here- it will inspire you.

7. Central Park-

I probably spent more than 3 hours in total in there. Two big 8K runs: the first was on a sunny morning from 10:30-11:30am and the other at 5:30-6:30pm. Then, a nice walk through the Sheep’s Meadow and The Ramble with a friend at dusk. It was two of the most enjoyable runs in my life.

Conclusion:
This has been on of the most intense and engaging experiences of my life. I find myself attracted to this place in a way that can only be described as the way you feel when you’ve just met someone you know you want to date; you’ve become aware of this being who’s qualities relate to you in a way that you long for- and now you burn to satiate that interest; it consumes you and you cant wait to see her again.

New York, I’ll be back for you, soon.

And a thank you to all the lovely people who made this trip what it was; thanks for your time.

Iceman

Iceman's Playlist September 09

2009-09-04T10:53:00.009-04:00

As one of the most non-existent summers comes to and end, Ice has began to require more mellow music to dull the edges cut from three of the most stressful months of his life. Needless to say I’ve become really into R&B thanks to a friend from work. A lot of these tracks are worth listening to even if you don’t think you’re into Soul. This playlist gets most of the limited airtime these days and Ice thought he’d share it with you.

Caribou- Crayon

I heard this song in an animated short by Nike on Vimeo of a little yellow guy. If any of you run, you’ll appreciate the video, and the song in tow. I often listen to this on my way out of my building to work in the morning.

Click Me To See/Hear Video/Song

Anthony Hamilton- Do You Feel Me

Iceman’s good friend Mark is really into Basketball, Soul, R&B and Mowtown. However, for the sake of anonymity we’ll refer to Mark as Bart Simpson.

Bart’s also as white as a man can be. He heard this in the film American Gangster and introduced it to me over a glass of beer recently. I’ve been listening to it since. Great tune. I promise you you’ll love it.

Click Me To See/Hear Video/Song

Rafael Saadiq- Sometimes

Iceman’s friend Jeff C played this album in a car ride up to lake Simcoe this summer. I was sold from the first track, but when I heard this one I knew it’d make a playlist soon. This could be Rafael’s best song ever (P.S. Rafael Saadiq was the singer for Lucy Pearl and Tony Toni Toné!).

Jeff asked me to guess when the album was produced; I guessed mid 80’s only because the sound recording quality was better than anything from the 70’s. Turns out this album was produced in 2008; it’s a must have if you like R & B or Blues.

Click Me To See/Hear Video/Song

Otis Redding- A Change is Going to Come

No qualification needed here.

Click Me To See/Hear Video/Song

D’Angelo- Untitled

The video says it all. I’ve been jamming to this track on my guitar a lot lately, D’Angelo’s music is truly in a class of it’s own. Ask me over a beer sometime it could take a while.

Click Me To See/Hear Video/Song

Junior Boys- Hazel

These are couple chubby guys from Hamilton, ON. If you like Hot Chip you’ll like Junior Boys. Hazel has a jazzy vibe that I like listening to when I get home on Friday night and pop open a cold one. This song makes me feel like I’m planning to hit the town. I usually don’t though.

Click Me To See/Hear Video/Song

Madonna- What It Feels Like for Girl

Iceman feels absolutely no guilt putting this song on this Playlist. Madonna spends her money well when she produces an album. The production quality is astounding and I think plenty of people keep this track on their guilty pleasures Playlist. I’m just no afraid to admit it.

Click Me To See/Hear Video/Song

Mobb Deep- Streets Raised Me

Iceman loves hip hop but only if it’s about guns, projects, drugs, and Hennessey. The production value of this song is surprisingly low, but the tight high hat (a super East Coast trademark BTW) and the content seem to remind me a lot of Terrence Howard’s music in Hustle & Flow (MTV Film). This song is pretty badass and it feels honest (more so than the usual rap about cars, partying and tough the rapper is).

Click Me To See/Hear Video/Song

Enjoy!

Summer Love

2009-08-27T14:41:00.007-04:00

Breaking from the party, Dylan slid downstairs and around the back of the boathouse. There, she coolly smoked an Avanti Light and nervously fiddled with the buttons of her Blackberry in her pocket. She watched the water bob up and down over the rocks that broke the surface on the shore line. The sun was almost gone and the dying light from the sky reflected brilliant blues, pink and vanillas.

Mackenzie (who's voice she could hear on the boathouse guest suite's patio, a floor above) was drunk again.

"Yo Dickie (Mackenzie's best friend, who's real name was actually James. It should be noted that no one but Mackenzie knew how this came to be- including James) fucking jump off the deck eh!?!... Where the FUCK'S Dylan? What the fuck?"

Mackenzie was simply incapable of saying anything that didn't ooze with an absolutely repulsive sense of entitlement; a quality that began to eat at Dylan's soul as she could hear his friends laughing. Actually, Dylan wasn't quite sure what 'a sense of entitlement' really meant- she knew is was bad though. She'd heard some sophs say this in the food court at Queen's earlier that spring term after Mackenzie 'famously' parked his yellow X-TERRA in the Dean of ACS's parking space.

Exhaling a long plume of blue smoke she butted out her cigarette, carelessly flicking in the shallow water; she knew what she had to do...

Gordian

2009-08-14T12:06:00.005-04:00

‘You look tired.’ She said leaning over his cubicle. ‘Really tired.’

Looking up at her he strangely appreciated the tone she used, despite the adverse comment; part concerned: part matter-of-fact. Sorting out his thoughts he looked at her in an effort to solve her. It was difficult; not because she was hiding anything, but because he lacked the tools to find out; honorably.

What’s your story? He thought. Where do you go and what do you do everyday? He thought. For a moment he could feel his heart beat, a pulse in his ear; she was still looking at him.

‘Yes, I am. Quite.” He smiled at her rubbing his eyes.

After a moment, she left and he turned back to his work, still wondering more.

The Gateway

2009-07-22T11:21:00.009-04:00

The streets of Bombay were warm. The breeze was hot and salty, and it ruffled the fabric of his shirt in a way that felt like the world was softly breathing on him. He could see the silhouettes of various naval ships floating in the bay with their guns pointed to the sky. Two Destroyers and an Aircraft Carrier faithfully defending the port with their gaunt presence alone. He could see the sun buried in the permanent haze that lay atop Bombay’s sky, slowly sinking. The palm trees overhead reminded him that he was far from home; a feeling he’d feared for months while traveling through India. But now, in his last day or so, began to appreciate.

The thought of leaving this strange place weighed heavy on his mind, as he knew that in three days time he’d return to America and everything he left behind in search of something else. It was as if these last days were the celebration of the end of a bloodline; a tragic passing of a person he’d come to know, empathize with, and criticize for it’s cowardness- and the cold and uncertain birth of a new person, returning home with new perspectives, plans, and concerns.

His life as he knew it would turn from the wondrous, curious, romantic, and fantastical to a life of competitive struggle in every capacity of his needs and wants. He’d leave behind the unknown and all the possibilities of reinvention (which he had come to a shaky truce with) and return to a place where everyone he knew had expectations and preconceptions of his former self.

In the shadow of his inevitable restoration to American life, he decided to surrender his thoughts of what was to come: to the sights, smells, and tastes he’d only be able to enjoy for just a few days more.

He watched the sun dip into the Indian Ocean’s horizon one last time. He listened to the motors and voices on the street and the prayers sung from the minarets at sundown. He watched the street dogs do their thing. He watched the mustached taxi drivers chatting away as they leaned over the green roofs of their yellow cars- sharing cigarettes and stories in the foreign version of English. He imagined they were gossiping like construction workers do on lunch break in American cities. He imagined that they all lived in the comfort of a faith so deep that it offset their material shortcomings; a faith that Americans would simply never understand or appreciate; not just because of our lack of it in general but that it required a community’s devotion to actualize as an individual.

That night he dreamt of falling in love with the most beautiful woman in the world- strolling through the markets of Bombay; he imagined himself letting go of all the anxiety that comes with the plastic pressures to accumulate wealth and gain acceptance into a consumer culture; he imagined a type of freedom that was surprisingly easy to picture but hard to describe and even harder to practice.

In 2038 he would tell his daughter several stories of his youth over dinner at a restaurant; in particular his travels to India over dinner prior to her own adventure. He and his wife would regale their traveling stories to her. Again he could not accurately describe how it felt to leave.

Recounting incidents of friendship, hilarity, recklessness, triumphs, defeats, and the beautiful things they'd seen; they found tears in there eyes- the kind that were the result of a nostalgic longing for their own youth, the passage of time, and scary thought of their daughter Rebecca waving goodbye at the gate the next day.

After that dinner, Rebecca would tell her father over a cigarette on the street that she had not seen his face light up like it did that night since she was a little girl. He would swallow hard knowing that it had been much longer than that. But it wasn’t until the next day at the airport that it came to him: he would hug Rebecca and whisper in her ear that the freedom he left behind in Bombay nearly 30 years prior was mainly that of expectation; the freedom to decide and accept that what you have is already the world, and that although it could grow bigger or smaller, it would not mean anything, any different.

Rebecca in tears would look him in the eye, holding his hand tight, and tell him she loved him.

Iceman's Spring '09 Playlist

2009-03-20T13:00:00.026-04:00

CLICK ON SONG TITLES FOR LINKS TO AUDIO OR VIDEO!

Spring, thank god. Here's what's on my iPod these days; an upbeat selection of what's new and interesting, what needs to be revisited, and sounds of the future(maybe). BTW, the Fine Young Cannibals video is ridiculous.

Fine Young Cannibals- She Drives Me Crazy- The Raw and the Cooked
Yes. That long blonde hair…

Sebastian Tellier- Roche- SexualityOnly a Frenchman can put out a record with intermittent moaning of a sexual nature ornament ally sprinkled throughout.

Beirut- My Wife, Lost in the Wild- March of the ZapotecEp
Zach Condon’s new record; a little less organic; more electronic; pretty catchy.

Lykke Li- Dance, Dance, Dance- Youth Novels
I don’t find her pretty to look at, but she’s pretty cool, puts on a hell of a show, and this is perhaps her most infectious tune off her excellent album Youth Novels; definitely check it out if you aren’t aware. She’s also Scandinavian: you can listen to her record on the IKEA furniture you bought after listening to Whitest Boy Alive.

Bon Iver- Blood Bank- Blood Bank
Bon Iver=WOW. This is off his recent Ep, recommend his debut album: “For Emma, Forever Ago;”(not pictured) cover to cover my favorite new album of the season.

Whitest Boy Alive- Don’t Give Up- Dreams
An oldie but a goody, this half of Kings of Convenience made a really fun Scandinavian pop folk record. Warning: you will want to buy more IKEA; you will become whiter.

Ai Du- Ali Farka Toure and Ry Cooder- Talking Timbuktu
Have you seen the film Unfaithful? Have you heard the song Olivier Martinez plays in his apartment? Original is available on iTunes).

Have a great spring,

The Iceman

Fan Mail

2009-03-19T16:22:00.009-04:00

Are there bigger triumphs in life over writing history? This week Roger Federer announced that he and his long time girl friend Mirka are expecting their first child this summer. Most people's first reaction (mine included) was knee jerk: 'how will Federer convert Grand Slam titles #14 and #15 (to tie then break Pete Sampras’ record)with the historically negative distraction of having children?'

Like the pundits, I worried; after all it’s important to me that he makes history; silencing the naysayers by rewriting the record book. Unfortunately, athletic greatness and children don't mix well(save for Jimmy Connors who won three GS’s after having kids). Looking at history, the odds are stacked against him.

I called my brother, we discussed, we worried, we hung up and quietly worried some more. I dramatically announced the seemingly horrible news to The Icewoman. Naturally, her reaction was to smile (she thinks Roger’s dreamy); but again I was upset; betrayed even. “Don’t you care Roger?” What about your fans? What about the record books? You’ll be finished!

Then I looked at his photo in the article (pictured above) and reading the quote again:

"I have some really awesome news to share with all of you: Mirka and I are excited to let you know that we will be parents this summer, […] Mirka is pregnant and we are so happy to be starting a family together. […] a dream come true for us. […] We love children and we are looking forward to being parents for the first time. Mirka is feeling great and everything is going well."

For once I didn’t see a Tennis God; instead I saw a Swiss guy named Roger: a man with $43 million in the bank from winnings alone, one of the greatest careers in tennis ever, 13 GS titles under his belt (57 titles in total), a consistent girlfriend and family life, and a good chunk of his youth left.

Maybe Federer won’t make the history books and never holds another trophy over his head.

But maybe tennis isn’t the most important thing to him, the history books, or maybe even his biggest fans(Iceman).

Maybe his most memorable triumph in the end won’t be the 5 Wimbledon, 5 US Open, and 3 Australian Open trophies but rather the day he held his new born...

If all of this is his destiny, he doesn’t look too concerned, in fact he looks kind of excited; maybe we should too.

Congratulations Roger!

-Iceman

The Floater

2009-03-13T12:27:00.011-04:00

You’re young and beautiful. You smile with rehearsed enthusiasm and well practiced gaiety.

You are 22 years old.

Everyone in the room is at least 7 years your senior. The bar full of grey suits is your infinity pool. Breathing heavy (fumes of juniper, lime, and quinine), they’ll watch without blinking as you splash around; eagerly waiting their turn to have you swim though their waters.

You show them your back stroke.

Throughout the evening you pose naturally for your newest friend: the Facebook paparazzi. Its photographers are anywhere and anyone: unknowingly covering your story. You like the idea of a publicly private kind of fame.

You’ll review the rushes tonight before bed.

Making your way to the bar to refresh your glass, you slip through the eyes of several men waiting to talk to you. Blowing by them quickly, they bend over to retain eye contact like a dandy lion to a moving car on the side of a highway; a Porsche you hope. They return to their conversations just as quickly as you pass. Fishing for your wallet in your purse, you get nervous; your BlackBerry isn't where you left it.

Suddenly, you become very, very anxious.

Anger Mgmt.

2009-01-23T10:43:00.023-05:00

She was mad. Real mad. He could see it not in her eyes, but in her cheeks. When Delores was angry, her teeth betrayed her eyes as she'd clench them, causing her muscles to ripple near her ear.

As of late, Cliff's memory began to fade and sputter like the cranky and subborn engines of the Grumman Wildcat he'd pilot in '42. He'd forget things; when were we in France? Where did Delores go? Did I brush my teeth today? He couldn't remember the trivial things.

What was left of his day-to-hour conscience were only the etchings of life long memories; memories cut so deep into the slab that even another 84 years of weathering couldn't obscure the markings of their youth, their marriage: the fights, the betrayals, and the triumphs.

Although he forgot little things, he never forgot to love Delores. He'd always know when she was mad for the same reason he'd remember to love her, he just couldn't always remember what for; instead, he'd remember to love her.

"She is mad. Still mad?" he though. "I love her."

A Perspective Palindrome

2008-12-03T13:20:00.021-05:00

1. "It's Christmas." he said with a smile, feeling prepared to open the box.

2. She was not yet crying but was on the verge. "What are you thinking?" he said.

3. "This' not what I wanted, not what I expected" She said.

4. "Look, I can't read your mind, I don't know what your thinking." He explained trying to mask his frustration as the clock struck twelve. Behind his back he held a gift so sweet and so thoughtful it would have broke her heart; but, unknowing, she persisted.

5. He clutched the object in his hand and said nothing.

6. "I just don't know, I don't know what I want from you..." She meant it but didn't think to explain.

7. He begun to regret the sacrifices he'd made for her and his resolve to stay positive began to loosen.

8. Outside he could see that the sun had fallen and only the tiny lights on the trees burned in the darkness like the twinkle of a stone burried in a box.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

8. Outside he could see that the sun had fallen and only the tiny lights on the trees burned in the darkness like the twinkle of a stone burried in a box.

7. He'd begun to regret the sacrifices he'd made for her and his resolve to stay positive began to loosen.

6. "I just don't know, I don't know what I want from you..." She meant it but didn't think to explain.

5. He clutched the object in his hand and said nothing.

4. "Look, I can't read your mind, I don't know what your thinking." He explained trying to mask his frustration as the clock struck twelve. Behind his back he held a gift so sweet and so thoughtful it would have broke her heart; but, unknowing, she persisted.

3. "This' not what I wanted, not what I expected" She said.

2. She was not yet crying but was on the verge. "What are you thinking?" she said.

1. "It's Christmas." he said with a smile, feeling prepared to open the box.

The Wedding- Fiction

2008-10-28T09:43:00.007-04:00

Aaron sat at the back of the Church studying the various decorations and structures that made up the hall. He noticed that it resembled everything in a dream he’d long since forced himself to forget; the moldings, the filtered light creeping in through dirty stained glass, the smell of the pews and dusty bibles tucked into the backs of the rows in front of him. Even the guests were the same (save his parents), bride too! Except for the groom- the groom would have stood to his left, not to his right- marrying his fucking ex!

Watching her, Aaron hoped she was thinking about him- sitting there quietly at the back of the church- but it didn’t look like it. Eva looked happy, but not in the way they were during the good years. She looked happy in a way that was so different from an way he’d known her to be that it seemed forced; it probably was… After all she always wanted to marry him, not Tom.

Either way, it was too late now; no last minute pardons or reprieves could mend a shattered heart. And even if it could, their love would have only been marred by the hurt he caused her and the hypocrisy that he’d never pulled his head out of his ass and asked her to marry him before she walked away.

Seeing her now at the alter- realizing her dream- crushed Aaron’s heart. Not just because he was never able to see the beauty of this moment for himself, (much less give it to her) but that she had to settle for someone else to get it; in a way, he felt like he’d ruined her wedding in that respect.

Tragically, he knew only after she left how foolish he’d been. His selfish desires to taste the flesh of other women would last no more than a month of deprecating debauchery resulting in a deep dissatisfaction that now made him nauseous. Digging into his memory he realized that the look on her face as she slammed the door was actually that of disappointment and not anger, and that the marriage she wanted was not “only about Eva” (he'd say in heated arguments) but that it was her love for him- her wanting him forever that he’d squandered away.

It was all so confusing; he’d gotten his freedom and she got her wedding. But sadly the underlying gravity of that outcome now cruelly exposed the low yields on what seemed like such attractive investments for what they were: shit. Whereas Aaron’s sexual freedom ultimately lasted but a month before it all ended (privately) in hot-sex-smelling-tears while in the arms of an unrequited-high-school-lover (naked as the day he was born and sobbing just as pitifully): Eva’s loss was written (quite publically) all over her face at the alter (shoving the words “I do” out of her mouth).

It became clear to Aaron as he watched Eva marry his best friend Tom, that neither she nor he had gained so much as a heartbeat of joy or additional fulfillment in the short months since she finally called his bluff and walked. He’d always thought that she was lucky to have him but failed to actually imagine a life without her; he had nothing to say now as he had nothing to say that day when she walked out.

* * *

The groom kissed the bride and Aaron and Eva’s story became just a memory. Eva walked down the aisle with a curious and tearful smile and conspicuously past Aaron without so much as looking at him. Soon she was gone and he would still be there; Aaron could not bring himself to feel joy (though he tried to join the chorus of well wishers with an empty smile and hollow clapping). There was no joy; not for him, and not for her. They had both lost out in the end despite their small victories and Aaron had only himself to blame.

Days of Late '08- Vol. 2

2008-09-08T13:07:00.000-04:00

It's that time of year again. You know it when it comes; one day you step outside and the air smells a little more crisp; then a gust of wind washes your face and you feel summer slip and blow away like an accidental napkin from a table; stubborn yet decisive.

Autumn hasn't yet arrived, but its entourage has. Chilly and Sleepy are setting up shop in the park; getting ready; for it; for you.

You finally remember to call your folks; find out what's new. You also realize that things in your life have shifted like items in the overhead storage bins while you flew through summer. Your eye sight's not as sharp. Your apartment needs dusting and so does your gym membership. You haven't spoken to a few good friends in so long that you hope they still consider you one.

You've got work to do.

It's not just the season's that change: Where there was romance and flowers there is now gray sky and showers. Where their was the promise of love, there is heartbreak for some (who’s post secondary academic flight plans don't co-relate). The squirrels start to gather food and the geese begin to fly south again passing planes in the sky; planes pulling lovers apart (and the odd couple back together). Summer’s laughter peters out while school supplies and uniforms get unpacked for the little ones.

While fall means something familiar for some, it’s very new for others:
My new baby niece is more comfortable with the world around her now and she smiles calmly when she sees me. Meanwhile, my prince of a nephew's mouth plays the word "No" with as much persistence as Coldplay single (BTW, we DID carve that pumpkin together last year).

Despite the hubbub of the ever-annoying TIFF, I guess what I've noticed is that all is calm and quiet; like a fermata.- Like a restaurant 20 minutes before dinner service or the ocean at sundown. The world seams to be shuffling the deck of what will come to pass before the year’s out. And for a few weeks all the elements of our lives (both human and worldly) are catching their breath.

In these minutes, I see our great Canadian sky’s graffiti of clouds and colors and I hear the ominous cawing of crows coaxing us in to Fall.

In these minutes I see a dark anniversary in my own family’s history and new one for a close friend. I see families gathering together for reasons both good and bad. I see a new house with new beginnings being built.

In these minutes I see hope, promise, and magic in the eyes of two beautiful brides-to-be this September. I see lovers taking steps into the future together and imagine families hanging up there old quarrels.

In these minutes, I see life’s inevitable wheel turn its last corner for the calendar year. I also see that despite all the requisite misfortune and tragedy that serves to remind us of our fleeting mortality, there lays a simple and profound point to our lives.

Through the very struggle to survive, find meaning, and cope with the life we’ve been given, it is the simple fact that we’re doing it; life.

See "Days of Late" 2007 click here.

A Room Without Mirrors Pt. 2- Bert (Fiction)

2008-09-03T08:16:00.002-04:00

Beige, everything is beige; the desk, the walls, the stationary; all of it. The fucking toilet paper is beige.

Bert sat at his desk looking over his IBM flat screen and through his boss’ office and out the window. He saw drapes through glass, bicycles on decks and smoking chimneys on the tops of a forest of endless condominiums. Out of the corner of his eye Bert could see his Lotus Notes tab flashing like a turning signal on the bottom of his screen and its Siamese twin blinking from the phone. Looking to his left he could see Mildred from accounting. She was biting her bottom lip- her brow knitted tight. Mildred was 8 levels into Bubbleshooter and looked to be more invested in breaking her latest record than a puma fixes its gaze on a hare.

Bert was trying not to watch the clock tick but in truth his vacation was only hours away and he’d long since checked out of the office and checked-in to a week by the beach. In his mind he was already at the driving range shanking balls into the woods with his old man, sailing the seas, swinging his tennis racquet, and boiling fresh lobster. Bert could taste the local beers of southern Maine as he imagined the tingle of the salty air in his nose. He began to imagine him self rigging an I-14 when Brenda, a senior partner at Donavan & Fischer lit him up with dirty looks like a wintery drive-by shooting in south-east Detroit… Just as icy too.

He snapped out of it, looking around at his desk again. He noticed that amongst a clothes line of yellow stickies drying their ink from his cubicle shelf and the stapled stacks of stats there was a point to his afternoon which was now deeply, deeply lost in the sea of a daydream. The point of his afternoon was lost like a lone coconut bobbing about in the sea for years.

He though about coconuts (Bert remembered random snippets of information that sometimes bamboozled cute women in college into thinking he had any brains, but soon after they rarely paved but a pebble for his career).

A coconut, someone once told him, could float about at sea for up to 40 years.

And at anytime, that coconut could wash a shore, plant roots in the sand and become a huge tree; become home to insects and birds, provide fruit or offspring; if only it could land somewhere.

Ironically Bert pitied the coconut because it had no eyes or ears to receive direction; all it could do was float and hope to bump into sheer destiny, fate, whatever…

He even so much as thanked God he wasn’t a coconut, he thanked God that his fate was in his hands. Bert felt that he had more control over the poor coconut, which was programmed to cling to the first opportunity available.

To safely wash a shore, grow, survive, and provide was not enough for Bert, there was something more to life than that, he just wasn’t sure what it was, he had faith however, that he would one day find it.

The News -Fiction

2008-07-15T15:27:00.000-04:00

The Doctor walks into waiting room; not making eye contact with the patient and avoiding it thereafter. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again; rubbing his eyes and exhaling deeply: “I … I think you should sit down.”

“I AM sitting down doc!”

“Of course, you are… I’m sorry.” He says, with timid uncertainty.

“You’re sorry? About WHAT Doc?! What’s the deal?”

“Oh!?... I’m sorry Carl, your MasterCard was rejected. Nurse Stephenson says it’s probably just the strip that's a little wonky; she’s gonna need to swipe your card again.”

“Oh .. Okay.” a rattled Carl says while riffling through his jacket pocket for his wallet. “Should I try my VISA instead or as well?”

“No, no. That’s fine.” The Doctor reaches out and takes Carl’s credit card.

“Airmiles?... Just kidding, little Medical humour. Hang in there Carl I’ll just be a second-“ The Doctor says as he’s walking out into the hall.

“Hang IN there?!? What the fu-“

“I’m sorry Carl," Dr. Merrck cut in. "your signature has rubbed off the back of this card; Nurse Stephenson will need to see some ID. It’s just for formality really…"

"But"

"I don’t make the rules Carl.”

Frustreated, Carl raises his voice. “DOC! Gimme the news! How long does she have?”

“I’m sorry Carl stay calm, it’s protocol; state rules; payment first. I’ll be back in a second.” He says while striding out of the office for the second time.

Carl looked around the office in panic. He fixed his eyes on the green stains of grass atop what appeared to be a Taylor Made 6 Iron poking out of a bag of golf clubs leaning up against the wall behind the door. Looking closer, Carl noticed that it had a large crack crawling down the shaft.

“Oh Carl, there’s no saving this one.”

Carl was startled by the Doctor who now stood in the door way looking on with a grim look upon his brow.

“Nooooo!” Carl burst into tears; his head in his hands.

"Carl, it's not a big deal; my local pro tells me it have to get the graphite replaced, and that I can’t use my 6 for a least 3 weeks, assuming delivery is on time. I’m just gonna have to ease up on my 5 Iron in the mean time. Let’s talk about our patient.”

Sniveling, Carl looks up at the Doctor… “But wh-… Wha-“

“Sierra is going to be fine.” She’s a little woozy at the moment due to the anesthetic but you can take her home tonight. Make sure you keep her off the injured leg. She’s in the CAGE now if you want to see her”

“You put my WIFE in a FUCKING CAGE!?!”

“Did I say: ‘cage?’ I’m sorry, I mean recovery room 'K-G.' We call it the ‘CAGE.’ Level K, room G. Nurse Stephenson will give you directions. Bye now.”

Deflated, Carl watched as the Doctor peeled off his rubber gloves, disposed of them in a garbage can, then promptly swing his golf clubs over his shoulder. He could hear the rattling of the clubs as they marched down the hall on Dr. Merrick's back into the elevator.

Sierra was fine, though she did feel a little woozy for the next 6-8 hours.

Iceman's Summer Playlist '08

2008-06-24T11:53:00.001-04:00

Summer is the only season built for POP music. Because this is so, Iceman tilts his nose down for the warmer months and embraces happier, more bubbly music. Check it out; it's summer time, and this is what I'm listening to.

CLICK THE SONG TITLE TEXT FOR LINKS TO SONG REFERENCES AND VIDEOS!!!

Bittersweet Symphony- The Verve- Urban Hymns

The Ice walks a lot, as quite a few Icefriends know; this means I listen to quite a bit of iPod. Incidentally,Iceman's all about walking tunes; Bitter Sweet Symphony gets the call every summer; it also makes it into almost every driving mix I ever make. It should be noted however, that no one ever passes on a rotation of the Verve's Bittersweet Symphony.

Also, I just love Richard Ashcroft's face; ugly, with a freshly painted coat of narcissism. Like Richard, I also feel pretty tough walking down the street listening to this song.

Mo Money, Mo Problems- The Notorious B.I.G.- Life After Death
When I was about 17, the Iceman and his best man James D lived out the greatest (Amateur) Summer of our Lives. We both had long hair, ZERO responsibilities, Fidel sleeveless muscle tees, class 5A drivers licenses (still wet with ink) and our lives ahead of us... We also had Jamie’s mother’s white on wood paneled Chrysler Town and Country mini-van.

It was the summer of 1997 and the Notorious B.I.G. had recently entered our little, malleable, private school minds; neon colored jumpsuits were cool, the rap video was being pioneered from it's infant stages, and Puff Daddy would soon take the raines of Hip-Hop (in the wake of Biggie's death) and change the face of Popular Music for the next decade.

Zoom to the Present.

A few weeks ago Iceman hit a 15 ft. putt in Maine with my folks (Mr. and Mrs. Iceman Sr.). It was birdie putt and when it sunk I completely flipped out. All I could see was the music video for Mo Money, Mo Problems in my head. It features Sean “Puffy Woods” dropping a 15 ft. putt to win a golf tournament. Tom-foolery ensures and Puff Daddy runs around the 18th green high-fiving people and fist pumping in the air.

The video and song always puts a smile on my face and I'll always remember that summer bombing around Westmount with B.I.G.’s Life After Death blasting out the safety windows of Jamie’s mom’s T&C. The same vehicule that Jamie would put into someone's lawn later that year after a winter snow storm. That's another story for another time though...

Have A Nice Day- The Stereophonics- J.E.E.P.

Kelly Jones (Welsh did you guess?) has a voice that was meant for singing rock and roll. This song has literally been stuck to the inner walls of my skull for at least 6 years. Welcome it to your own! Good Luck! Oh yah, and have a nice day.

Electric Feel- MGMT- Oracular Spectacular

MGMT's Electric Feel is the closest thing you can get to modern porn music, save any cut off D'Angelo's Brown Sugar. I feel like dancing to this song. Actually, come to think of it, just writing about Electric Feel makes me want to dance right now.

All The Wine- The National- Alligator

"I'm put together beautifully
Big wet bottle in my fist, big wet rose in my teeth
I'm perfect piece of ass
Like every Californian
So tall I take over the street, with high beams shining on my back
A wingspan unbelievable
I'm a festival, I'm a parade"
Matt Berninger's lyrics pretty much set the tone for this song; I like it because I also feel tall enough to take over the street. And I often feel like I'm a festival as well. It's the perfect summer song.

Words & Fire- Sam Roberts- Love At The End Of The World

Sam gets better at singing with every record. He sings this song particularly well live which means that the chords fit perfectly into his vocal range. As a song writer you aspire to align the stars this way for every song you write, but the end product doesn't always mirror your original vision/design; this is because singers are bound/limited to work within the range of their abilities. Words & Fire is sung with vocal ease. This in turn, results in a better live performance.

Form a content aspect, W&F also possesses a kind of instant familiarity. By familiarity, I mean that the song sounds like you've known it for ages (some people use the word 'timeless'). As a folk music kinda guy, I appreciate this a lot as folk songs reveal the songwriter's soul; here's why.

Because folk songs are driven by lyrics and not guitars and drums, the point of focus becomes fixed on the writer's point of view, the way he describes situations, and the words he chooses to get there. because of this, I've always felt that the folk song is harder to write that the rock song. Keep in mind, folks songs are almost always written by yourself, vs. songs borne from jam sessions. The stripped down nature of the folk song forces the writer sculpt it's definitive body with care and detail; ultimately resulting in an more interesting, and usually memorable song.

I sing this song to my brother and sister in law's kids. They're 2 and 8 months old.

Lately- David Gray- Life In Slow Motion

Iceman went to see DG with the Icewoman in December at Massey Hall last December. Gray opening the show solo with Shine; people, including both Icepeople, had tears streaming down their faces 30seconds in the first song. But, for the first time in my life I felt like my folks; I felt nostalgic about music! It really was something, when you get there (or already been there) call me, lets compare notes.

He also played the featured song Lately which has stayed with me since that night as a go-to song in random moments, such as this one.

The Ape- The Dress Whites- The Dress Whites EP

The Dress Whites are a band made up of two high school groups from Montreal; bands I used to compete/play gigs with during my short lived glory days.

Anyway, my old drummer Jon plays for these guys and my buddy Denis Woods sings. The Dress Whites are incredibly talented in every faculty and the songs are very catchy indeed. Note: "catchy" is the highest honor Iceman can give songs; I love catchy tunes. This song really speaks to my own dream of having a band.

"The Ape" has a twang and a kind of Bright Eyes feel that really rings through my soul. I sing the chorus of The Ape in the shower often while I hope with a misty gaze that someone somewhere is doing the same thign but to one of my own. I sincerely hope you check these guys out. If you do, you can tell your friends that you saw them at The Rancho Relaxo and had a beer with the guitar player before they were famous. I know I will. ;)

Come Pick Me Up- Ryan Adams- Heartbreaker

Ryan + Harmonica + Great Lyrics = a swaying anthem for hot summer nights. I've always loved this song; it's got a big band feel with a small-town bar smell.

Your Hand In Mine- Explosions In The Sky- The World Is Not A Cold Dead Place

Three words: Friday. Night. Lights.

Have a great summer and remember: "It' Never Too Early To Start Beefing Up Your Obituary."

A Room Without Mirrors

2008-05-23T15:47:00.002-04:00

Brenda sat in her office, her desk piled high with documents, folders, and papers. She thought about her peers who kept their office spaces more tidy, but Brenda didn't care; so much that she sold that particular sentiment quite well. It didn't matter what they thought because her account was the best, the busiest, the most valuable at Fisher & Donavan Attorneys at Law.

As a reminder to her peers of this very fact, she left her office to look like it could barely stock all the pomp of her pressed pulp; the pulp of important papers, which was her glory. The tower of paperwork stood as a monument to her worth, her value at F & D.

But in her lonesome, Brenda mused at the idea of a corner office; justifying its rewards by the very clutter she kept carefully disheveled in her own wall-side window office. With her ego vindicated by expensive expensed dinners at fabled and fancy food factories south of King Street; it didn't matter to Brenda that she didn't respect the people she dined with. It was for her career after all. In fact, she felt that she didn't need the type of conventional happiness that her subordinates thought they enjoyed; her career was too demanding. And furthermore, to achieve greatness it was better to be seen as a hard-ass or a bitch that it was to be liked. Although at night, in her sleep she (sometimes) dreamt that she was a kind woman; empathetic and endearing to people; people she didn't even know.

The faceless people of her dreams would smile at her and for brief moments she could feel (jaw clenched) her own magnetism. Their ease was strange and alien to her but each dream payed her a moment wherein she actually enjoyed it. Soon after though, the steely air of reality would burn her nostrils and Brenda would recoil from the unfamiliarity of what could be.

She couldn't live like that; it made her feel naked. Joy felt phony to her; phony and embarrassing.

* * *

Brenda neglected to take stock or inventory on her own shortcomings though. The result was her sense of self-importance; fueled by a deep sense of pride and the fact that few of her accomplishments had been attained with the support of a man. But it wasn't just men that got under her skin, it was women too. She marveled at the skinny, younger, more energetic women that worked beneath her; she envied their bra-less breasts beneath their 30 something thousand dollar salary tops. She couldn't help but look (although in disgust) at their nipples outlined in the same garments; she envied their heat, but pitied their wanting for a man.

She resented their ignorance; they knew nothing of the real world. They knew nothing; sitting there in their insignificant little cubicles. "Nothing," she thought, as she examined her faint reflection in the window before her. As she adjusted her point of focus, the image of her face would disappear and reappear until she fixed her eyes to stare at a blurred picture of the sky outside her window; he own face now invisible.

Brenda sat motionless in her cool anger which now bubbled like the water that steams below vegetables in a pot.

She imagined her body filling up with that hot, discolored, salty water.

She imagined that if she sat still enough, for long enough, she could disappear; completely.

Spring '08 Celebrity Playlist

2008-04-30T11:34:00.000-04:00

Anyone who knows the Iceman personally, knows that he loves to clap his hands when he dances. Here are 8 tributes to hand clapping and a slow song to score your spring fever.
What's gives? I’m listening to more up-beat material. These songs came to me whistle I stashed my favorite whiskeys behind my hockey stuff once again and started chopping up limes to stuff into anxious bottles of sweaty Corona. For your convenience I've posted links for reference.

Them Kids- Sam Roberts- Love At The End Of The World

Kicking off the Spring Playlist is a fresh new tune from Sam the man. This song has a great video, poignant lyrics and it leaves me feeling fired up for a great summer to come.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9uyD209D5pU

On Call- Kings of Leon- Because of the Times

I stubbornly ignored the hype about this band last summer despite reputable advice. Now I’m listening to that album and I feel pretty stooooopid because KOL might be my new favorite band. Might be yours too... Again?

If you don’t like it the first time, grow a mustache and try again; rinse; repeat.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UEh8OL0Jj-0

Don’t Get Me Wrong- The Pretenders- Greatest Hits

Oldies… Yet again. Chrissie Hines has a great voice and no one can deny it’s a catchy tune. I have to thank my friend Dave Anderson for the 80’s influence. If you shove enough poison down a man’s throat without killing him, eventually he becomes immune.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_Bj8wrXslk

Walcott- Vampire Weekend- Vampire Weekend

Controversy here.My lawyer friend Jared tried to sell this band to me a few months ago, and again my prejudice got in the way. Like with Kings Of Leon I dismissed them because of their conspicuous image and the prevailing hype. Jared even offered me tickets for 9$ to see them in Toronto a few weeks after their record caught wind in the US; but still I held out. Then, one day on the elliptical I felt bored enough to try them out… Oops. Best band of the summer to date.

Vampire Weekend is like the Police with Ska/Caribbean influence. Whatever that means. Whatever, you’ll love it after a few rotations.

Now I’ll have to settle for seeing them play next time in some shitty, shitty venue like the Koolhaus for $45.75 + $3.78 service charge and a $6.00 convenience fee.

Jared= RIGHT: Iceman=WRONG; my bad.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAHySDD67UY&feature=related

Still Suspicion Holds You Tight- Black Rebel Motorcycle Club- Howl

BMRC takes it’s name from an old Marlin Brando flick called The Wild One. It’s bad, but the biker jackets are undoubtedly cool. This album is unlike any of their others, so if you purchase BRMC, make sure you get Howl.

I’ve never played this for someone who didn’t like it, and my cousin AJ can agree that I’ve played it a lot. It’s best enjoyed while drinking whiskey and playing cards late in the eve.

You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb- Spoon- Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

Spoon really caught their stride with this album; until “Ga Ga” I’ve always felt that Brit Daniels never took the songs to the next level. I felt like I was always waiting for the band to let it out. On the other hand though, Spoon’s always been a bit sparse on the layers.

Cherry Bomb is a great song with a soulful touch; it finds it’s way into my daily rotation a lot; excellent use of a tambourine; they’re a bit famous for it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkA-L3mK7q8

Kids- MGMT- Oracular Spectacular

MGMT is made up of two “hipster” looking ass-clowns from Brooklyn who scream: “coked-up rich kids with guitars and MOOGS, skinny black jeans, and ironic t-shirts.” Really.

What’s interesting though is that I really like their music despite feeling physically ill watching the artists interview. What gives? The kid has a great voice and this album is nothing short or REALLY good. This is due to a fresh sound, surprising interesting lyrics and of course, his voice.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIEOZCcaXzE

Monsoon- Jack Johnson- Sleep Through The Static

Jack Johnson is a bit like corn. There’s only one season for it; summer. (Double entendre?)

I’d like to note that I don’t feel very cool or hip recommending Jack Johnson (you may have noticed that I never recommend John Mayer despite my guilty-as-charged man-crush for him) but this song has a great buzz to it so it’s here, like it or not. I think the song is about the life cycle of a tear drop.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qnfk-HPhyZE

Silver Stallion- Cat Power- Jukebox

Best slow song I’ve heard in a while. Yep… Still listening to Cat Power.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDYymRjX9ew

Enjoy!

My Moon, My Man

2008-02-25T09:57:00.000-05:00

The sound of tap water running over dishes and the soft tanning of a scrub brush against china soothed him; the texture of this particular sound massaged his ears in a way that he liked. Dan always managed to make sure the television was off after dinner and that the music was low enough that he would be able to hear Isabelle doing the dishes.

Leaning back in his chair he glanced down at his belly that now pushed out towards the air; quarreling with his belt. He sighed deeply and swished the last sip of red wine around the inside walls of his glass methodically. The effect was soothing- hypnotic even. This ritual always ended the same way: he aired out the last sip then, drawing the glass towards his nose, breathed in the wine; judging its aromas. He’d try to pick out the notes he hadn’t already read about on the back of the bottle at the liquor store just hours before.

Looking out the window and up over the neighbors indifferent red brick wall, he could see the moon; the shadow of the earth now biting into the cheek of its blue face. He imagined what the earth must look like from its powdery surface; how quiet life must be on the moon, and if he’d miss the casserole of street noise that cluttered his small apartment most evenings. He wondered how and event so simple and not particularly interesting (other than its scarcity) could catch peoples attention so fiercely; and now his.
"Babe, look; out the window.” He said pointing out the window. Isabelle turned from the sink, dried her wet hands on a hand towel and walked over to him. She sat down on his lap draping an arm over his shoulder and around his neck and kissed him on the lips, pulled back and kissed him twice more. Only then did she turn her head to look at the eclipse.

Her mouth opened, as if to comment, then closed; her eyes widened. Dan was still looking at the umbra of shorter-softer hair which grew at the edge of her hair line behind her ear. He leaned in and kissed that same part of her neck. Isabelle, still staring at the moon (now just a little smaller) slowly turned to look at Dan; her eyes still focused on the moon as if to drink up every last drop of it’s light. Finally breaking with the satellite she looked at him, still sitting on his lap. Smiling she confessed:

“It’s so beautiful!... I love you.”

Dan looked at her, wondering whether it was the peculiar light hanging in the sky or the sea-swaying gravity of its mass that pulled the thought from her head, the blood from her heart and the words from her mouth; but this was the first time she had said those words and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

“I love you too.”

“Good!” she said grinning “Let’s go for a walk, it’s gorgeous outside!”

She skipped down the hall to grab her coat and scarf. Dan downed the dregs of his wine and peeked out the window one last time. Alone, he raised his empty glass to the moon; it’s red hue now glowing through the empty chalice:

“Thanks.”

Iceman's Winter Playlist

2008-01-26T14:56:00.000-05:00

Hi! This winter Iceman’s iPod conked out on him for the third time in the iPod era. This is a fairly serious problem as most of my collection is stolen from three or four trusty computers in my cohort. Now I have to travel about (again) to re-collect the essentials. This ivolves combing through a lot of old music which is always good for the soul; for you today I've dug out 9 songs you should hear, or at least listen to again; and of course, why you should.

Cheers,

Iceman

Portishead- Dummy- It Could Be Sweet
Recently, while rooting through my buddy Alex’s music collection in Montreal I was surprised to see that he had a lot of old records form our highschool days. Incedentally Portishead was one of my favorite bands in high school.Though they only put out two albums, I guess it was a good move on their part because I only remember them as being good (D’Angelo might fall into the same boat for the same reason). The production value of this record and the beats compete with some of the best today. This song was always my favorite.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mr7pS6rprdQ

Wilco- A Ghost Is Born- Theologians

This song caught my ear at a Wilco concert I went to in Montreal. I was with my girlfriend at the time and we were talking to Sam Roberts who we’d bumper into on the balcony of Metropolis (the best venue in Montreal I might add). Sam had convinced us that Wilco was one of the best bands ever and that he personally had been looking forward to seeing Wilco live for a long time.
I was not completely sold on the band at the time but I remember this song playing during that very conversation. Theologians is so simple and popish that it’s easy to miss. The whole band sang this song together and I recall saying to both my girlfriend and Sam that the show might turn out to be the best I’d ever seen. It was and it still is.

The Big Chill Soundtrack- Ain't too Proud To Beg (The Temptations)

My brothers and I “grew up” listening to this album as our parents played it incessantly at our cottage (that and Gordon Lightfoot’s “Gold’s Gold” which is another story all together). I never got sick of it though and I think it’s because I always associate these Motown favorites with dancing and good times. I finally saw the film last weekend and loved it for the same reason I always loved Reality Bites; it's about a group of friends dealing with their own coming of age while their favorite music brings them together. The soundtrack is amazing and I chose this song because of it's scene in The Big Chill.

Perhaps the best shot of the film is of Kevin Klein, alone in the living room after dinner, putting on this song. After he drops the needle, he picks up the record cover and kisses it; cut to the kitchen and Glenn Close and Tom Berenger start dancing while doing the dishes; the rest of the cast follows soon after. Priceless.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RfyFI-4ZsaE

Wintersleep- Welcome To The Night Sky- Weighty Ghost

I caught this song on Much Music recently. I remember them as being a band I had missed live arriving late for a Sam Roberts show last year. The song is catchy, the kind I’d wish I’d written. Again, simple chords with a great beat; I think you’ll like it too.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q-iW0zL2LI0

Cat Power- The Greatest- Willie
I think this might be the best song on the album.
I’m still listening to Cat Power; so should you.

Bruce Springsteen- Dancing In The Dark

Two factors brought this artist and singer to my ear: One, Spin Magazine had an article wherein Win Butler of Arcade Fire and Bruce Springsteen were interviewed together. In this article Win Butler told me to listen to Bruce, so I did. And two, my buddy Denis Woods of The Dress Whites played this song while opening my last gig in November. Needless to say the Boss is the boss for pretty good reason.

Also, the video for Dancing In The Dark is shot live. At one point Bruce pulls a young girl out of the audience and on to the stage for the outro to dance. It turns out that that girl is the young Courtney Cox; what a babe; what a song. And Bruce: what a dude.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pk8VZgJkpeg

Listen to Atlantic City by him as well.

The Cowboy Junkies- Trinity Session- Misguided Angel

This is a classic album from a Canadian band. I hold the Trinity Session in the top ten best Canadian albums of all time. Margot Timmons’ voice is one of a kind and the sound they managed to commit to tape in Toronto’s Trinity St. Paul Church is simply priceless. Every song is great on this album; I chose Misguided Angel over their more famous Lou Reed cover of Sweet Jane because it’s their own.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIq4uczWIVE

Explosions In The Sky- The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place- First Breath After Comma

This Texan band has no singer. In fact, I’m not sure they even have any mics on stage. Thus, you wont be surprised to hear that it's very cinematic. Their sound is Sigur Ros meets the simplicity of The National with so singing of course (probably why I’m crazy about them). I often find myself editing my own cheesy montage of life moments when I hear this band play; I love it.

I saw Explosions play at the Virgin Festival in Toronto last summer. I dragged some of my friends over to a small stage where they played just before The Killers started on the main stage. At one point in this song one of the three guitar players put down his instrument and began pounding on a second snare head beside drummers riser; when you hear this song you’ll understand; I wanted to cry.

I love this record, my 2-year-old nephew loves it, PMce loves it but! I’m not sure you will though… However, I’m willing to risk my good reputation and suggest it to you as somthing a little different. Here’s a tip on how to listen to Explosions In The Sky: loud.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Se1Snu0ispg

The Knife- Deep Cuts- Heartbeats

This song was introduced to me after a cover of it was introduced to me by the same person. Got it?

Sony Bravia produced an advertisement, which featured Jose Gonzales’ version of Heartbeats. My buddy Jon then played the original for me; also brilliant. Rarely can two versions of a song be so good yet so completely different. When I listen to The Knife I feel like the coolest perosn wherever I am. I feel Euro/Swede cool and imagine I can speak in their hilarious little language that sounds like singing. I pretend that Karin Dreijer Andersson and I are dating and we get photographed constantly outside boutique hotels all over europe wearing awesome sunglasses. ok.

Also check out a song by The Knife called Pass This On; also pretty damned awesome.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9Ly-LUttL0

Iceman's Autumn Playlist 2007

2007-10-24T19:43:00.000-04:00

As described in “Days of Late,” the Iceman likes to mix up his musical therapy with the seasons. Incidentally, unlike the summer stuff, I kind of like to think of the autumn as a second opinion for my mental health; and music is the perscription. This opinion usually reflects the attitude of a person on the back end of a bitter goodbye to a sweet summer lover; out of gas, frustrated and looking warmly to scarf clad visits to his favorite pubs, darts, and crunching through the brittle leaves on wrinkled pavement. It’s warmer music; it’s more cinematic, it’s sad but beautiful.

So here are the ten songs you should take out for a spin this season: The Best Autumn Of Your Life.

Bright Eyes- Method Acting

This is from Conner Oberst’s fifth “Debut” album: Lifted (or The Story Is in The Soil, Keep your Ear to the Ground); that's no joke.
I used to listen to this album in College and the same friends who said Bright Eyes “sucked.” are now the same ones who own all his albums now???

I’m still waiting for that apology.

Sam Roberts- Mystified, Heavy

Chemical City is an album that somehow gets better every time I listen to it. I hate the term “infectious” as reviewers often use it, so I wont say it. But Chemical City doesn’t get stuck in your head, it gets stuck in your soul and I’m OK with that.

It’s takes a little understanding to appreciate this album and unfortunately most listeners don’t bother to try when other records will provide a more instant satisfaction by way of cotton candy choruses, processed beats and cheaply written verses. Most music these days has a patented, over produced-groomed sound, but come radio time, albums like Chemical City don't not sound like an expensive recordings.

It's a ballzy move to feed a 'Pop Music Audience' a live recording ('live' meaning all instruments are recorded simultaneously in the studio). But when I listen to this album I feel like I’m in Sam’s basement while the band rehearses. Quite franky I'm not only OK with that but I thinks it's awesome because the recording resembles the live version (which is generally the 'definitive' version).

I just hope that many, many more people feel this way too; and that they continue to do so in the future so we can see Sam’s records continue to decorate the racks at HMV. Sam plays an excellent live version of this song as well.

Buddy Guy- Stone Crazy

A “moldy-oldie” (a term from the mouth of Chris Velan) from Buddy’s album “I Was Walking Through The Woods;” widely considered to be “The Essential Chicago Blues Album.” It’s simply a classic and just one song off this record should be enough to get you hooked.

Hot Chip- Boy From School

Brits are consistently able to produce the freshest-coolest kinds of quickly expiring music. However, the artists themselves are usually tumbling nerds, geeks and douche bags. In Hot Chip’s case: they’re just nerds, but Jesus do they get it right with the tunes. PMce, Iceman’s brother, calls them an “Electronic Boy Band.” It’s eerily true.

The National- Apartment Story

Again, this band continues to impress me. They played a Monday night in Toronto in November and somehow, against high odds, delivered one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. Thanks to great company, low expectations for the venue and rock bands on Monday nights in cities like Toronto, I left The Phoenix willing to tattoo my love for them on my chest.

Radiohead- All I Need

I left this band behind a year or two ago as their sound fell deeper into space than a Syd Barrett binge. On top of that I generally don’t care for a lot of press/controversy/attitude from band or artists; Radiohead being one of the worst; so I left them. THIS album however, is bloody good and although this may only be a shaky truce, I predict that I’ll listen to this album more than a few times this winter.

Cat Power- The Greatest (song)

Imagine Fiona Apple, Feist and Rachael Yamagata blended into one beautifully complicated and tragic woman: Chan Marshall. Take that and put her on the greatest record label around: Matador; and what do you get? The Greatest.

Cat Power’s album, also entitled The Greatest, was written and recorded just months before she was hospitalized for alcohol abuse; a certain depression that rings true and blue throughout this album as it quickly moves up the Iceman’s personal charts. Sadly it’s tortured souls like Chan Marshall and her peers that consistently write their best material during the downward spirals of their own demise. Damn it’s good though. Get well soon Cat Power. Stick around.

Sigor Rós- Saeglópur

This band, album (Takk…) and song got me through a very sad time last year. This of course beggs the question: why would I’d select this album as an anthem to an emotional recovery? Here’s why: When you’re down and out you need to work through some of your shit, not ignore it.

I don’t understand Icelandic, or the self proclaimed “gibberish” that they sing that’s loosely based on Icelandic. But what better canvas to work your shit out? No meaning found in this album, JUST YOUR OWN!

“Takk…” makes me cry but I can’t say no to it when I scroll by it in my iPod. Sigor Rós has created music like falling snow on a cloudy winter day. You should not only accept that, but embrace it. Sigor Rós IS the sound of falling snow. Few other bands do!

Rogue Wave- Eyes

I first heard this song in a movie called Just Friends. Soundtracks, in my opinion, rarely bring good-unknown music to my attention. No exception here, but when I heard this I searched for months before I found it on iTunes. The band has done OK since this song, but Eyes doesn’t really reflect their catalogue. Either way I love it. Great chords.

Israel Kamakawawiwo’ole- Somewhere Over The Rainbow/What A Wonderful World

With the Fall/Winter season’s difficulties, we often need to go to a happy place. I first heard this song during the credits of a film called Meet Joe Black with Brad Pitt, I was crying pretty hard at the time. This track simply brings me to a happy place.

Israel was a 750lb Hawaiian man. Somehow this hulking beast of a man sang like an angel to the skipping tune of a delicate little guitar. Gorgeous. Happy Autumn!

-Iceman

A List of Sailing Terms that May or May Not Still Be In Use Today

2007-10-24T19:39:00.000-04:00

AVAST!: The command to stop, cease, in any operation.

To BAGPIPE THE MIZEN: To lay it back, by bringing the sheet to the MIZEN shrouds.

BIRTH: The station in which ship rides at anchor, either alone or in a fleet; also a room or apartment on board for the officers of a mess; also the process of pushing live offspring the size of a watermelon through a calamari the size of a key lime.

BREAMING: Burning off the filth from a ship’s bottom.

HARD A-LEE: The situation of the helm, when pushed close to the lee side of the ship.

To HEAVE THE LOG: To throw the log over board in order to calculate the velocity of the ships way. Common mistaken for the slang term for “Dropping Anchor.” Also see “HEAVE A LOG;” punishable by death in over 14 states.

HIGH-AND-DRY: The situation of a ship when so far run aground as to be seen dry upon the strand.

LAID-UP: The situation of a ship when moored in a harbor, for want of employ. Commonly used as slang for unhandsome streetwalkers who lurk in island sailor pubs.

To MAKE FOUL WATER: To muddy the water, by running in the shallow places, so that the ships keel disturbs the mud at bottom.

OUT-OF TRIM: The state of a ship when she is not properly balanced for the purposes of navigation, but strong enough for a man.

And last but not least:

To HOLD ITS OWN: is applied to the relative situation of two sailors when neither advances upon the other. Each is then said to HOLD ITS OWN; when two sailors are “NECK AND NECK” on their thirteenth tumbler of Rum and FLYING AT HALF MAST. Should neither Sailor KEIL OVER, they are said to be HOLDING THEIR OWN.

Days Of Late

2007-10-16T16:16:00.000-04:00

Oh how the clock ticks; summer ends and fall arrives only in time to set the table and draw the drapes. And every year the cliché stands as tall as it ever did as the foliage retires like an empire of leaves tumbling to the ground like the scattered ruins of a great civilization. And time seems to crawl by in a cinematic slow motion for those few fleeting precious weeks.

For me, the season’s change is more than a tipping of temperature and the tireless tilting of a spinning globe; it affects the body and mind. For the body: germ and exhaustion return to their autumn dwellings (passing the geese on their way south) spreading their work about on the unsuspecting people who lazily cough into air; underdressed; carelessly holding subway car poles and door handles with bare hands.

Then the mind succumbs to the lack of daylight and the first quarter stress of a new fiscal year. Just like the teenaged growing pains of change, we are stubborn to hang up our summer points of view until next June while looking down the barrel of the imminent six months of slush, cold, stress and a boozy Christmas season.

All of it is a bit over whelming and as it always does, autumn comes and goes faster than we ever want it to. Then we rub our eyes and open them to see a new sky’s colors shining more rigid. We see spindly trees and voluptuous squirrels. We’ll notice the wrinkles on our father’s faces are carved deeper than we like to remember and that our own faculties have begun to protest the season’s change, despite our fading youth. Despite the growing collection of milestones there are always a few items (institutions even) that make all of it worthwhile for me.

This fall I’ll carve my first pumpkin with my nephew of barely two. I’ll make Cock-Au-Vin with good friends while drinking good wine and laughing more heartily than Thanksgiving gravy. I’ll hug my parents harder this year, remembering that time is running against us. I also find that the music to my life changes too.

In the same way we stow away our T-shirts and flip-flops for winter, replacing them with sweaters and scarves: I’ll pull out my Sigor Rós records and dig through my closet for my favorite bottles of strong whiskey. I’ll trade the Dead Prez for Ray Lamontagne: Bloc Party for Buddy Guy: I’ll trade tennis racquets and balls for hockey sticks and pucks: I’ll trade frivolity for love and hope that my choices bear happiness for me and the ones I love.

Fair-trades in my estimation.

A Tribute To Good Friends

2007-09-20T09:03:00.000-04:00

On Labor Day my uncle and a family friend lost their lives in a dramatic accident. Naturally, our family gathered around from all over the globe to support my cousins and Aunt.

Although our banding together provided strength, we probably could have managed the situation and survived the grief on our own. In fact, I bet my three cousins and my Aunt could have survived this tragedy on their own too. It seams that the will to live is so strong that it does not consider our emotions or the pain we’d endure in the event of our survival. It does not spare us bereavement; it wills us to go on through thick and thin. History has shown us that no matter how hard humans are hit with disaster and tragedy, we always pick ourselves up and keep going. So, in a way, we can all make it on our own.

Luckily for us, we didn’t have to. We had friends.

Friends are strange creatures; they aren’t like family because families have obligations to each other, which we can (and often do) carelessly lean on. But friends don’t. Friends, you have to work a little harder for. When a friend shows up to support your interests or lend a hand, somehow it always means a little more; and as it turns out, that ‘little more’ goes a heck of a long way.

Labor Day was absolutely awful for us, but with the mere presence and sympathy of good friends it was a lot brighter than it could have been. We felt stronger. We were stronger. We felt grateful for their lives and our own. We all took the opportunity to reset our own food chain of priorities; remembering that this life is fleeting and that we are more important to each other than we often realize during our hectic lives. Unfortunately, it often takes tragedy to remind us that we only have one shot at this life and that there are no guarantees. And so it is that in the wake of Jim’s death, friends remembered his life’s work and his honorable qualities.

In fact, people seem to have A LOT to say about Jim! I hope they can say as much about me when it’s my turn to go. Secretly, I think a lot of people are thinking the same thing, and I think it's a good thing. We remember the good stuff because it’s important; it’s how WE measure our own lives. In Jim’s case it’s been pretty hard to measure, and a humbling job at that.

Upon this tragedy I have personally tried to only search out the good; believing and hoping that this life operates in a quiet benevolent balance. Hoping that there is some good in the shadow of every bad, waiting for those who seek it in dark times.

I am thankful that he lived a good and healthy life until it’s abrupt end. I am thankful that he lived his life to the fullest and that there was a genuine and mutual appreciation between the world and he. But, there is so much more to be thankful for.

Throughout these weeks, dozens of friends have gathered to support us. Through their phone calls, emails and visits they have each tasted the frustration and bitterness of our family’s loss. But Jim’s death lent them a new appreciation for their own families and friends. It taught us to respect the lives given to us and remind us that it’s never too late to make changes for the better; that it’s never too late to resolve issues amongst each other or to make better choices for our own bodies and souls.

Look how quickly and nonsensically life can be taken from us! Let's reset our sights on better goals for a better life! There is no better way to honor Jim’s life than to capitalize on this opportunity by reflecting on our own lives and making them better!

Looking now to the future with regards to the past, my family has learned something extraordinary through this event: We’ve learned that even the smallest gesture from a friend can make the biggest splash and that life is more than manageable on our own, but is only truly worth living with a little company.

So thank you, all of you who’ve taken the time to reflect and support our families this September. Thank you for your company. Thank you. Thank you!

Duncan McEntyre

Take It Like A Man!

2007-08-24T10:09:00.000-04:00

An older woman waddles into the doctors’ office. She is limping and bracing her lower back with her left arm. Her face is sour like an over-ripe lemon still clinging to its branch.

The Doctor sits at a desk littered with medical paperwork. The scattered debris' slightly less organized than an airplane wreck’s; his feet are up on the table. From the bottom of his shoe a dry piece of gum is plotting its mutiny, eyeing the papers below, scheming to jump ship. In a moment the gum does exactly that; leaping from the left ball of Dr. Dagger’s right shoe sole and landing on a CF-9 slip (the standard paper work for a booster shot). Dangling from Daggers mouth is a freshly lit Peter Jackson Cigarette that clings with precarious obnoxiousness from his lower lip.

He’s completing a survey called “How Hot is Your Man in Bed?” It’s a special section to an August 2002 edition of Cosmopolitan. The magazine is exactly one year older than the four-year-old blue bags that now hung from his bloodshot eyes. The doctor’s hair is unruly and he hasn’t shaved for a least a week.

“Oh doctor. My back hurts! Ooooh deaaaaar!” She chirped while beginning to move things around the office; clearing a nest of papers, she makes room to perch her leather purse.

Dr. Dagger looked up at her barely acknowledging her presence; much in the same way a fully fed African lion does under a tree in the Serengeti sun or a raccoon caught in the moonlight, sorting though your back porch trash; curious enough to squint at you, but not terribly concerned or interested.

“Ooooh.” She moaned in an irritating tone. “I woke up yesterday and I just couldn’t move!” she continued. “So I called Sheila and SHE said- “

Silencing the patient, Dagger M.D. slammed his empty coffee mug down hard on the table. The bottom landed on a C3 form leaving a thick brown stinky ring across a patient’s signature. Dagger rose from his chair slowly. He looked her over with a dangerous disgusted look, as trusting as a snake’s. His cigarette, now billowing smoke, sprinkled ash that lingered in the air like stirred silt underwater.

“Doctor?” She whimpered in a frightened tone. She began to plot her escape and proceeding flight plan; backing out of his office slowly yet as fast as she humanly could, curiously forgetting her back pain.
Dagger slowed walked towards her. “Doctor! Doctor! Doctor!” He repeated, mocking her in a pathetic voice. “My back hurts, my head hurts… JESUS!”

There was a long pause…
“TAKE IT LIKE A MAN! Get the fuck outta here!”

The cigarette fell from his spitting mouth, gloriously tumbling though the air, ash and smoke. It landed on the floor then rolled back towards his shoe. Dagger looked down and contemplated picking it up again. He could hear the patient flapping around and squawking down the hall. Sighing, he reluctantly stomped out the cigarette with a cool and refreshing air of indifference and resumed filling out his questionnaire.

Iceman's Celebrity Summer Playlist

2007-08-02T13:20:00.000-04:00

Iceman’s a huge music fan. But when he doesn’t find a huge amount of fresh stuff to listen to, he hits the vaults! That’s what happened this summer. Don’t forget, oldies can be goodies too. (Laugh that’s funny) So, like I usually do, I make a Summer Mix and send it to my friends (largely assuming they actually give a shit). So here they are: 10 Songs for “The Greatest Summer Of Your Life”

1. All My Friends- LCD Soundsystem

“What a track.” –Dmac. Only James Murphy could pull off a 7.5 minute song comprised of two chords and keep you listening. It’s massive and a great summer heater track.

2. La Ritournelle- Sebastian Tellier

The French always seem to have a slick edge on pop music. My friend Jonzy recommended this to me and I’ve since spread the word. What’s amazing is that 4.5 minutes into this track begins a vocal track. Who does that? Amazing drums too.

3. Jeepster - T-Rex

Classic. This is off an amazing album called Electric Warrior. Unfortunately Quintin Tarantino put this track in Grindhouse and now people think I “discovered” it there. This problem affecting my coolness in a negative way and it needs to stop.

Truth is, this album was passed down to me like an heirloom navy flask from my brother PMcE. I listened to the album incessantly in India in 2004. It's the kind of track that makes me want to literally kick off my shoes and dance. I always picture a girlfriend of mine named Alex kicking it out on the dance floor to this song. Don’t know why, it's right up her alley though.

4. Sweet Home Alabama- Lynyrd Skynrd

PMcE and a young Iceman used to jam out “air guitars” to this track every Friday afternoon when junior high school was out for the weekend; he was 17 I was 11. I thought PMcE was so cool; still kinda do. Recently, this song came on the radio after a long shift of work and I felt that same energy of emancipation. AIR GUITAR!

5. What's Becomes of the Broken Hearted? – (Jimmy Ruffin) Covered by Joan Osborne

This came on while I was out eating sushi with PMcE (we share a lot of musically serendipitous moments together). I practically started crying; could have been the brotherly love and the Mild Silky cloudy white Saki we were chugging. I dedicate this selection to my other brother “Pistol P-McE” who works exclusively with Funk and Soul bands in Montreal.

6. These Are the Days- Jamie Cullum

Jazz + horns exploring the studio space + youthful flavor= Awesome. I often tell my friends that these are the best days of our lives (which they are) making this song a tribute to my nerdy point of you.

7. Aganjú- Babel Gilberto

Portuguese is a great language to listen to.
One day, my friend at Café Doria (which also plays great tunes, hence the reference) lent me a CD called “Brazilian Lounge." It’s a guilty pleasure record that I fell in love with. I listen to the CD in the shower now, a lot. Anyway, it has a song by Babel Gilberto (daughter of Astrud “Girl From Ipanema” Gilberto) which lead me to acquire Babel’s self titled CD. I fell insanely in love (as I often do) with Aganjú. You will too.

8. Fake Empire- The National

The National is the Iceman’s pick for best band of the year. This album may be their fourth but will surely, I predict, be their best. I can’t stop listening to this album; cover-to-cover (which means absolutely nothing to people in the iPod world I know)it really is one of the best albums published in a long time.

9. Goodnight Rose- Ryan Adams

First off, Ryan Adams is the reason I own a jean jacket. In fact, I heard he was actually wearing one and smoking a Marlborough Red when he came through the birth tract. He might also be the reason I own a Fender Telecaster too.

Either way, Adams is an Iceman blue chip artist. PMcE said it right when he said: “Ryan Adams never writes great tunes. But he consistently writes good stuff.”

Incidentally, this is a major compliment coming from blog writing music snobs like us. Mostly we talk about how much great bands suck and start circular arguments deciding precisly when an artist has sold out. However, you can always count on Adams to make a record that is good cover to cover, EVERY TIME. “Goodnight Rose” is a shit kicking tune that makes you want to grow your hair long and drive a pickup truck (or an El Camino) across the southern US and smoke really heavy non-filter cigarettes that came from a crumpled pack that you pulled out of the breast pocket of your plaid shirt.

10. Open Your Eyes- Snow Patrol (Redanka Remix)
My friend Hillary played this for me recently claiming that she wakes up to this song every morning. The song is great and if anyone could look even a tenth as good as she does by breakfast, it’s worth a try.

Rum Runner: Episodes 2 & 3

2007-07-31T15:56:00.001-04:00

Recently, members of the “Homeless” community and I have been crossing paths. A lot.

Maybe it’s because, in my search for employment, I spend more time on the streets than most. Maybe it’s because I often look them straight in the eye as I walk down the street. Maybe it’s a sign; in which case I choose “asignism;” it’s a new school of thought I dreamt up right now that deliberately rejects the subscription and beliefs in revelations (of any kind) and (including but not mutually limited to) omens.

That being said; I find bums simply amazing. I often stare into their eyes to try and see if they’re really all there and tricking us all, or if there really is nothing behind the wheel. But there MUST be something rattling around in there. They seem to be able to survive on the streets and pantomime the appropriate acts to draw loose change from our pockets after all. Could it be just tomfoolery?

Note 1: Toronto is the REAL DEAL when it comes to bums. Wow. So gallant! So bold! The numbers! Not SO creative unfortunately, but they are there; nonetheless; wandering, bellowing, begging, snoring, boring, scratching, smoking.

Note 2: I prefer bums with a sense of humor personally; glass “half-full” kinda guys… The ones that can make a light hearted joke about their situations. Or try to entertain you in some way to "earn" their change. I even don't mind the ones that bark “FUCK YOU!” once they’ve made but three steps from you empty handed; truthful turrettes. It’s kinda cute actually.

Note 3: There should be awards, like mini Oscars, for bums. I’ll be a judge I don’t mind. We could have categories:
Best Ensemble.
Best Makeup.
Wardrobe Awards
Best Actor/Actress
Best Actor/Actress in a Comedy…. Dramatic Role. Chime in if you can think of one!
Best Jingle Sung on a Street Corner...

I think the acceptance speeches would be priceless; literally; who’d pay for THAT?
*******************
Rum Runner 2

A bum observed me walking by while I was playing with my house keys this morning. He was black and wearing a classy looking green and blue horizontal striped rugby sweater,the type of article you'd have seen James Vanderbeek wear in a film about being at a US College. Below, he had on khaki cargo shorts. They were fairly dirty though, but functional nonetheless. He also had a backpack and a pair of Teva’s on. Come to think of it, he had a great hat on too! It was british racing green Cricket hat but made of that peacoat material, that waxy stuff you know? It was pretty cool, all things considered; he had style AND a slick pair of sunglasses on (The Iceman is a big fan of sunglasses as some of you may know). I often muse about where they find these gems!

“You got de keeeeyz (Jamaican accent) my brother...”

“Yah?” I said barely slowing down but already lauging.

“De keeeeez to de castle mon! You know it!”

I paused and replied: “That’s right baby!”

He replied with a bellylaugh: “Dat’s right.”

Awesome.
*******************
Rum Runner 3

I was walking by a bench of three drunks rolling deep into a few glass 40oz. of Wildcat 6.9, breathing hard. I was wearing blue jeans ripped at the knees, a t-shirt and silver Aviators. One familiar looking drunk of the Town of Yorkville told me/his friends at point blank range:

“You should get off Church St. Yer spending too much time on yer knees! BAHAHAHAHAHA!”

I considered my options:
1. Since I’m on the phone with a friend I can keep walking and pretend I didn’t hear him.

2. Go back and give him a stern lecture.

3. Go back. Kick his ass?

I walked on by.

Breakfast

2007-07-18T13:26:00.000-04:00

A man no older than 25 approaches the counter at Home Harware. It reads 8:56 AM on his watch. The checkout clerk yawns as she rubbs her eyes, examining the man. He's wearing silver military police sunglasses and slung across his back like an arrowless quiver, a yoga mat.

Her black plastic hand held purchase gun reads:
ITEM 1/// Spoon, Tea 2.49$

ITEM 2/// Bowl, Cerl 5.79$

Beep... Beep.

"10$+..." He gives her cash.

She looks at him.
"Cereal?"

"In my backpack." He smiled.

"What about milk?"

"It's in my fridge... No bag please... "

He smiled at her. She was smiling but still trying to calculate the situation: 1 spoon, 1 bowl and 1 box of cereal on his person; milk at home. He looked at her, ready to answer the question on her mind.

"I gotta eat breakfast."

A Fairly Frequent Occurence

2007-07-03T11:47:00.000-04:00

The door opened.
He looked up, down and up again quickly.
She looked away but smiled as she did then began to spin the ring on her first finger with her other thumb.

Clearing his throat he stepped inside and turned around to look at the lights. Two glowed from the bottom up. Stubbornly he pushed the second one up. Nothing happened; it had already been pushed. Mocking him, it beeped loud.

Staring down again he could see her feet; they were perfect and parked comfortably in a pair of fancy flip-flops. Moving up he noticed her bag; full of the usual necessities: glossy scented magazines, cosmetics, two iPods, three cellular phones, one pair of sunglasses: Ray-Ban, a banana.

He looked up and smiled. She looked at him chin up and smiled back. Quickly she looked down and fiddled with the strap on her bag. She looked up again; this time smiling hard. Her eyes lit up and she pushed her breath out heavy through a mouth that curled up.

“How are you?” She asked; her voice sounding older than he’d expected.

The young man, briefly catching his reflection behind her shoulder, realized that he looked like a complete buffoon weilding a ridiculous grin and eyes that now molded to the shape of her face.

“I’m doing great. Fantastic!”
“Fantastic?” She replied, now with a new curiosity short of flirtatious but not indifferent.

Realizing that he had her attention, he madly raced though his mind like a criminal on the run; searching for something interesting to say; something that would somehow buy him more time and another breath into the conversation.

Now the floors were rising up past them faster and faster but soon they’d slow down. Distracted he noted that she really was beautiful but more pressing issues were now at hand: He had to say something. Anything! NOW!

“Yah… I’m having a great day.”

“Really? Why so great?” She was smiling again and this time he caught her eyes break to examine his feet then quickly to his hands, up to his hair and again into his eyes. He smiled back at her.

“I’m going to go eat ice cream.”

Immediately after the words foolishly fell from his mouth he realized two things:
1. That this was in no way true.
And
2. That he would punish himself good for saying such stupidities.

“I LOVE ice-cream!” She giggled.

Incidentally, after those words came out of her mouth, she realized two things:
1. She couldn’t believe she had said something so uncouth.
And
2. Although she wanted somehow, in someway, to go for ice cream with this guy, she could never live it down if she did for the following reason:

This kind of frivolity ran against her grain; having been raised in Rosedale and schooled at Branksome it quite simply was not proper to approach ANYONE (regarless of rank) without the proper channeling, investigations, and careful due diligence first. Such are standard procedures in educated society, her mother had warned her.

However, this contradicted a new policy she had resolved to observe just that previous New Years. A resolution to be more spontaneous in light of the realization that her life did not resemble The Notebook which she loved so much (she read it twice too). She felt pressure about the fact that she would be young and single only once and honestly feared the idea of being thought a bore should she be caught in saucy confessional circle; now growing in popularity at staggettes.

The floor began to push up into her soles and the door chimed before parting from its centre. The young man, dazed and drunk in her perfume, nervously stumbled out the door mumbling. He was startled to not see the lobby of his apartment building but a woman bearing the age of at least 58 winters wearing leopard print tights, ballet slippers, a hooded Hollister sweat shirt and a dog, no mightier than a squirrel, which clung to her breast like one: shivering, staring, blinking. The lady’s hair was a huge teased helmet of bleach burnt blonde and her face appeared to have more plastic features than Disney Land or a Toys R Us. He quickly looked away so as not to burst into laughter.

“HA! Wrong floor!” he nervously blurted as he turned back. The woman unraveled a soulless smile and bore it for him. Returning, he now leaned up against the wall right beside the young woman who now glared at him with a smirk ratifying the ridiculousness of the older woman’s appearance. Once again he grinned; excited to have this little thing to share between them, no matter how minute, no matter how silly. That laugh was theirs now.

The elevator sunk just one more floor to its final stop. The young man waved good-bye to the dog and the Tussauld of a woman.

By this time the young woman, had decided that fate would not have her join him for ice cream that day but that she should engage him once more in the event that they never crossed paths again.

“I’ll see you around…” She said brushing past him while carefully placing her hand on his bare arm with calculated pressure. He said nothing but was already fantasizing about how they would “see each other around.” Denying the inevitable truth they almost certainly would not.

He took a second to crystallize the sensation of her soft palm on his bare arm as it faded like silver magnesium firework fakes; trickling into the sky and out of memory.“See you…”

She turned her head quickly as she jumped into a cab outside the building. Flashing one last toothy grin at him she also hoped that life would somehow tangle their paths again. Soon.

The World of Film: The Ego at Large?

2007-06-27T09:13:00.000-04:00

If my life were a movie:

•Every time I met a beautiful women she'd smile at me then it would cut to me and her fumbling for the keys to my (more likely her) IKEA apartment while madly kissing in the hallway.

•I’d still smoke cigarettes and I’d be sexy.

•People would stop and think about me in the middle of their days to the tune of “Fake Empire” by The National.

•My clothes would match. Always.

•Ryan Adams “Friends” would play when I was thinking of far away lovers and friends, and The Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony” would play when I walked to work.

•It would be hilarious and heart warming.

•I’d kiss Marion Cotillard.

•I’d have played the part of Tristan in “Legends of the Fall.”

•I’d wake up with Marion Cotillard and smoke cigarettes with her. Then I’d kiss her some more.

•I’d have way more framed pictures of me and friends doing cool stuff, and they’d always be visible.

•Marion Cotillard would tell me she loved me, in the rain.

•It wouldn’t be that different from my own.

Rum Runner

2007-06-26T15:17:00.000-04:00

Walking home from lunch today I passed a little scene on Queen Street: three Police armed with notepads and mace mounted on steel horses, and one arrestee. The man was in high spirits, which he wore gaily by wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a smirk.

I walked by with pace through the usual street noise. I tuned in and tuned out in a matter of about two seconds; in a way one might veer by a bandwidth while surfing stations on an old radio set, hearing only this:

“What are you bothering me for?” The drunkard spat, if only to hear his ears roar.

“Cause you’re drunk, on a bike, and carrying an open bottle of liquor you fucking retard.”

I couldn't help but smile; I thought Police were more polite.

June 26/07