second hand paradise

I just finished reading week, but still have an unopened Vanity Fair and a Vogue with a heart-wrenchingly wonderful colour scheme going on on the cover to read. And a midterm at 9:30 tomorrow morning...

But on the bright side, I spent the week in New Brunswick, with my mother's family... My aunt and uncle own a second hand clothing store. And not just a little boutiquey little thing, but a full-fledged warehouse, that's about a third store front, and the rest is just bales and bales of unsorted clothes. My cousin and I spend two hours, after hours literally climbing around piles of clothes, looking for fur, cropped sweaters, long skirts, and old lady sweatshirts with silk screened wolves and owls and so on... Success. Success all around.

A fur cape.
A red cropped/slouchy sweater.
A navy/white midi skirt.
A long purple velvet dress (almost too late for fall's witchy business but wha'eva).
A seafoam/white striped cropped t shirt.
A purple old lady sweatshirt with a wolfpack not just on the front, but ALL THE WAY AROUND. Bret from Flight of the Conchords would be so proud.
Oh oodles of other things that I can't even remember... I don't actually know where I'm going to put it all.

Oh, and two pristine Kimchi and Blue purses. What the heck? Who gives that away?

Okay ignore the terrible quality for a sec. My mom emailed these to me super small and she hasn't resent them yet... The cape is vintage Sears, green sweater is anonymously from my cousin's second hand store. the dress is from H&M, the purse is actually faux ostrich, and you can't see, but I'm wearing maroon socks that I took from my great uncle Rupert's house... he was a hermit, and no one had been in his house for like, 30 years. It was amazing. And the heels are from France, a couple years ago. Maybe better photos soon? This outfit happened, because I had taken everything 'dress up and go out'-y to my place in Toronto last week, to decide what to wear to the ballet... and then came straight from NB, and was going to a jazz concert... these were the only heels I'd left at my parents place. I love getting dressed so much, even more when there's a challenge. 

Listen to Esperanza Spalding please. Bass, vocals... The sexiest black woman alive beat Justin Beiber for Best New Artist. There is hope, my friends.

B

life is for learning

I do love my school. I have a class in musical frickin instrument making. And photography, sculpture, time based media, and a visual studies, theory-ish thing. I was telling someone about my classes, and they were like, man, it sounds like you're at a really cool summer camp or something... It is. Every day is just so GOOD. I love my assignments, I seriously look forward to doing them. Oh baby this is good.

And I had a really nice day with Jeremy the other day. The aforementioned neighbour. We've still never spoken or seen each other or anything, but Emma wasn't around, I was in my room working on a video and he was writing a song on the piano... it was like living next to David Gray a little bit. We worked like that for hours, and even though we had nothing to do with each other, it was companionable, ya know? Emma hasn't been around much, but when she is she brings a little dog. Classic.

Everyone says coffee does really bad things to you so I'm stop drinking ridiculous amounts, and see if I actually feel any different. So far I just feel like my head is going to explode, but it's only day one.

I don't feel as though I have a real purpose for this blog anymore... not that I used to, but I would think of things to write about during the day. Hm. Maybe I'll get back into it now that I'm more inspired by school...

Listen to Take Off Your Cool by Andre 3000 and Norah Jones. And then do it. Baby, take of your cool. For real.

B

neighbour update: his name is Jeremy

Tomorrow is the day the Band and Martin Scorsese filmed The Last Waltz, in 1976. I feel as though I should leave Jeremy a letter telling him that, and asking him to watch it again. Or maybe just a letter saying

Jeremy and Emma,
Could I borrow The Last Waltz?
Signed,
Merely a Wall Away.

Always a source of entertainment, they are.

Anyway, someone said the greatest possible thing they could to me, the other day. I was stepping out of Dark Horse (where I've spent an inordinate amount of time lately, it's just so much closer than Manic and Ideal Coffee... and I'm in love with the barista who likes Edward Sharpe. And the one who laughed so much when I made a 'that's what she said' joke.) onto the sidewalk, Spadina... and this middle aged man, with a heavy accent said behind me, "That is a beautiful colour combination you are wearing. I am a painter, and I love colour. It is beautiful, I wish there was more colour like that around". I was so taken aback, I had just said to someone the day before, those are the kind of people I dress for. People who look to see. I told him it was the nicest possible thing he could have said to me, about my clothing, and walked with him for a few blocks out of my way. He studied at OCAD when it was just OCA, and was from the Czech Republic. It might be the best, most meaningful compliment I've ever received. Oh, and I was wearing dark red brogues, mustard yellow tights, a short, dark red jacket over a green and black knit sweater, with a navy purse... One of those outfits that you just feel right in, and clearly this man thought so too. It was wonderful.

Also wonderful: I was sitting in Dark Horse again today, writing a letter. To quote precisely, I had written, "... a fascinating person. And I usually reserve that term for the bearded man in plaid slacks sitting in the corner, reading about existential motifs in Russian literature, that I never talk to or see again..." The letter progressed, and I ate more scone and drank more latté. Then suddenly, in walks a bearded man wearing two plaid shirts. Not slacks, alas, but enough shirt to compensate. Okay, interesting. Then he sits across from me. In the corner. And pulls out a book. On. Nietzsche. I was so disconcerted, I just got up and left. I had completely concocted this figure in my head, and he suddenly just appeared. I stole the 'existential motifs' thing from Annie Hall, which is brilliant, by the way, but this guy was the personification of what I had written. It was uncanny. My heart actually started pumping like crazy, it was so weird.

Anyway, Annie Hall. Go watch it right now. Woody Allen is so frickin funny. And uh, I so know who I'm being for Hallowe'en next year, and/or every day until then.

Annieway, I have a lot of homework to do before tomorrow morning, and considering class was cancelled today and I had the entire day to do it... I should be ashamed of myself. HA. 

I've been singing Dylan's original "It Ain't Me, Babe" a lot lately. You should probably listen to it. 

B

seeing blue is an individual experience

I've wondered that, forever... Is what I see as blue the same thing you see? And if all the colours are relative to each other... everyone might be seeing something completely different, and no one would KNOW because we have the same name for different things! It's wonderful, it is. That's from my Colour text book. I have a class called Colour Explorations. Clearly, I'm in the right place.

Neighbour update: They're not breaking up anymore, which sucks because I really hate Emma. She got mad at him last night for... oh shoot I can't remember what it was. They were flirting loudly, and suddenly she started crying, and he's like whaaat the heck? And she had some stupid reason, something that he said in they're fake flirt fighting offended her... So dumb. Anyway, tonight it was 'welcome home' sex at like, 6:00, which means they'll probably do it again before the night it through... Oh my GOODNESS this is repulsive.

I'm doing this project, an appropriation of this photo. The project is just appropriation, but I've chosen this... So I'm rethinking the idea of 'beauty' because this photo is sooo glamourous and classically beautiful, and delicate, and all those conventional sort of things... But now, ANYONE can be beautiful, so I'm taking a self portrait that explores 'interesting' as opposed to beautiful. Raw. High fashion. Make you question what's going on, rather than just sit there and have beauty hit you over the head. So I went to Sephora and said, hey, do what you went to school for on my face... And the girl was so excited, everyone goes into that place saying 'make me look natural'... Case in point. So she went to town with purple eyeshadow, blackened my eyebrows, made everything super intense and over the top... We wanted to block out my eyebrows completely, but didn't have the materials... It wasn't until I left that I remembered I had a gluestick in my backpack (holy art school) and we COULD HAVE, but oh well. This looked pretty sweet too. And the looks I got biking home, oh baby. I love drawing attention to myself. I'd much rather be interesting, than beautiful, and I mean that. Anyway, I'm printing off a self-portrait with all of this makeup, and the turban, and putting a couple layers of resin on it, with a chunk of rusty chain link fence replacing the lace... About 18x24. I'm excited to finish it, I'll probably have photos. Also, I just had a shower, and as a sort of experiment, didn't touch my face... Turns out, it's insanely waterproof. Seriously, not a speck of it moved. Impressive, I think it was mostly Makeup Forever... and she AIRBRUSHED ME. It was awesome. As if I was worried about the rain, on my way home...

My neighbour is playing the guitar. I have a love hate relationship with this guy. And check out this site, I might have to start something like this... although he's cleverer than me.

B

lend me your eyes I can change what you see

I can hear every single frickin thing that goes on in the apartment next to mine. The good news is, he has excellent taste in music, and the other night I fell asleep with my ear pressed against my bedroom wall listening to him watch The Last Waltz... He also has a piano and guitar which he plays frequently. The bad news is, he's in the midst of a break up with his girlfriend. Not only does Emma have a really annoying voice, but according to an angry phone call to a friend, that happened very close to the wall, she cheated on him, but he did NOT cheat on her. They fight bitterly, often, and in the middle of the night. He spends a lot of time drinking, judging by the clinking of bottles, and playing his heart out on the piano, lately. I feel for the guy, I really do. But the worst news of all, however, is that last night he called her, woke me up around 2:00, and when she arrived, they proceeded to have angry break up sex, merely a wall away from me. And she never stopped talking, the whole time. MAN she's annoying. And it's extremely uncomfortable when you can hear the frickin bed shaking, and her running commentary...  And I've never actually seen this guy, nor do I know his name. I just know hers, because he begged her not to go one night. It's a dramatic situation, let me tell you.

On the other hand, my neighbours downstairs are really great. A freelance photographer and a professional squash player. Who knew? We barely ever see them, but I seem to have encountered them a few times lately, taking out the garbage and whatnot... Cool guys, fo sho.

Anyway, please listen to a lot of Mumford and Sons. They might be my favourite right now. I recommend... The Cave, of course. Or Little Lion Man. Enjoy!

B

careful with that axe, Eugene

I changed the address... and here we go again. I tried tumblr for a bit, which I've decided I love to read, but not so much to post on... Anyway, we'll try and get this ol guy up and running again.

For now,
The National, Fake Empire

B

I only have one problem with your new crush. He doesn't seem to wear any underwear.

My brother's remarkably funny reaction to seeing the Rolling Stone and nearly naked coverboy in my back seat. Please be aware that he doesn't take himself this seriously. This photo is in fact very ironic. Oh, and I watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall last night, just because I wanted more Aldous Snow... it wasn't that funny. Brand was the best part. And Peter listening to the Smith's Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now, in his breakup mourning. The chick that Peter falls in love with, reminds me of myself, a little bit. Hm. I'll think about that a little bit more. Just the stuff she says, how she says it.. And, I mean her current life, not her crazy, breast-baring, crazy boyfriend, dropping out a movie to Hawaii past life. Okay maybe I shouldn't have said that, because I can't really explain why I thought that. ANYWAY, moving on.

Back to the topic of my brother, he's on this eighties kick, which is hilarious. Usually he's all about this crap pop, hip hop whatever (though he's fiercely opposed to rap) but lately I've been coming home to him sitting at the computer, blaring Foreigner and Chicago. Now if I can only get him listening to David Bowie and dressing like Michael Jackson circa Beat It...

Pff, I'm going to start dressing like Michael Jackson circa Beat It. I've got the white t-shirt/dress shirt/socks and loafers era down, but I could use some white deck shoes and old school skinny jeans.

My friend Kristen is just as into MJ as me, but has the emulation advantage of being a dancer. This was fun: 

This post was kinda short. And wander-y. It's a rainy day kinda post, if you know what I mean. And seeing as today is a rainy day, that's alright. I'm even listening to the 'it's raining' playlist on Steromood.com 

My song recommendation today is that entire list, especially this one; Sea Legs by Addie Brownlee

B