tim armstrong vs. allen ginsberg

so,

i'm standing in my favourite local bookstore last night. grabbing all my favourites in alphabetical order as i stroll through the aisles (well, there's only one aisle really). books are funny because i don't know the authors personally, but i feel that in a lot of ways i know them better than myself. picking up musty old books, i flip through the pages and when no ones looking, stick my face right up close so that the pages brush against the tip of my nose as i thumb through the pages.

old books. they smell like experience and like wisdom. i like forgotten books, that no one has read or thought about in 20 years. books that won literary honours and such, but that have disapeered in the black hole of time. they're like old girlfriends from high school, who you liked once, but have long since forgotten why.

not that these books and the stories they contain are any less valid than new ones being written today. moreso, their validity is exemplified by the fact that they contributed to the collective consciousness of us all, and in a round about way influenced and inspired the new books we read today. sort of like the six degrees of seperation of allen ginsberg.. or something.

like understanding yourself, it is important to go back and see where you came from. these books are our emotional history.

i like discovering books and taking chances with them. stepping off the beaten path of the greats and just grabbing a random story. this is why i like this bookstore i was in last night; their shit to gold ratio is pretty low. the staff are also much bigger booknerds than i and can help me out when i stray to far from the goodness of goodness.

so i'm going through and grabbing stuff and i realize that what i actually want is the 5 dollar copy of motley crue's autobiography and this experimental stream-of-consciousness book that henry rollins wrote in the mid nineties(eye scream). and i'm standing there in my leather jacket, ripped jeans and dirty shoes like the ultimate cliche: "of course the punk rock guy wants the punk rock books".

i stood there for wondering how my bookstore cronies would cringe and look down on me when i brought my selections to the counter. here i was buying books written by musicians (clearly unacceptable) and not only that, but they were obnoxious rock musicians. what could these people possibly have to say that i would be interested in hearing, and moreover, why would i be interested in hearing it?

the funny thing about punk rock is that it's addictive.

it's like cocaine for the spirit.

it's who i am and it's what i identify with. i didn't wake up one morning and decide to find punk rock, it found me. it lifted me up and told me about all the things good and right in the world. i am grateful to it for that. it's the way i view the world around me and the way that i feel it views me.

and i can't get enough.

i don't think anyone really cares what i'm reading, least of all the bored employees at a bookstore. the only one who really has an issue with it is me. i guess i felt a little guilty and maybe a little like i sell myself short by participating in what some(most) would consider low-brow entertainment. wasting time reading about the exploits of an eighties hair metal band when i could be reading the works of the GREAT CHARLES DICKENS!?

it's about balancing the two, and i guess that's the point i've been trying to make in this post. and in my life. i always seem to find balance in the two diametrically opposed sides, and i love being there in the middle. i love making each confront the other and making them feel like they're missing out on something great for excluding the other. the only drawback of this is that i never get to live in either world fully.

too dumb to be smart and too smart to be dumb.

that's why i felt uncomfortable standing there with the books i had chosen. it wasn't about admitting something to the guy behind the counter, it was about admitting something to myself.

but i read the first 50 pages of the rollins' book last night, and i enjoyed every last sentence. if the goal is still happiness after all this time, then why not be happy with who i am rather than unhappy about who i'm not?

put another dime in the jukebox baby...

searching for bobby fischer

i think that it's mostly restless hours spent alone.

i am the kind of person that always needs to be moving. i've spent the last year of my life fighting against the pressures of my past, present and future. kicking at the darkness and trying to bleed out some daylight (so they say). and in the first days of solitude in over 395, i find myself going nuts from the lack of pressure. i am not a self starter, not really. thought i am good at following direction and making suggestions where needed, without a constant sense of responsibility to either others or to myself, i find that i just kind of sit here.

(i baked the other half of our chocolate cake yesterday, and ate the whole thing 'cept for two slices: one which i gave to ed, and the other which sits safely caccooned in a wrap of cellophane on my kitchen counter)

i almost miss the battle that was laid at my feet, though i do not wish to relive it in the slightest. this period of my life which has all to recently ended leaves me with a feeling of emptiness and lack of purpose. do i dare wage further war against the outside world, or waste away in front of my 21st century idiot box?????

---

i've never been much of a chess player, though i do enjoy the game. i like that there is a set formula and guidelines by which a player of greater skill can easily defeat one of lesser. i feel that it is sort of a microcosmic representation of the very nature of capitalism and of the greater human condition. some are inherently predisposed to win the game based on their upbringing (practicing chess) and their confidence going into the match (which also relates to the way we are raised[?]).

i have never been a confident chess player. i understand the rules, and i am quite adept at learning strategy. i do not however, consider myself good. so whenever i am in a match and i realize that my opponent is of greater skill than i, i choose to employ what i like to call "chaos theory". this theory works in all forms of competitive activity (including video games, pool, fist fighting and of course, chess) and i have only recently realized that i do this because it is a way of fucking with the system without taking on any personal investment. should i ultimately lose the match while using this tactic, i can claim no personal responsibility and instead blame it on the greater forces of the universe.

i think that perhaps i approach everything in life this way, which is why i never truly succeed.

i could be a great chess player, i choose not to be (and we all know why that is)))

---

i am an idea person, and i am really good at that. you may have noticed that i registered a new blog, the 'toronto nacho review'. a friend of mine and i decided one night after a particularily revolting and overpriced plate of nachos (from joe mercury's at dundas west and bloor) that there needs to be some sort of system, much like the way toronto health has a system to monitor and regulate the sanitary conditions of restaurants. people need to be made aware in advance of the wretched plate of nachos that sit waiting and festering for them at any shitty dive bar in this city.

we haven't reviewed any nachos yet, mostly because i have not eaten any since. BUT

i FULLY INTEND TO REVIEW NACHOS IN THE CITY OF TORONTO AS SOON AS I EAT SOME.

for the record, some of my favourite nachos in the city thus far:
1. sneaky dee's - the kings crown - it's like 15 bucks and worth every shiny penny. better than sex.
2. queenshead - some nights they're like magic and others like a book of shitty card tricks for kids. buyer beware
3. o'reilly's - good nachos, fair prices. a great view of the newfie cn tower
4. dufferin gate - good nachos, guacamole on the side sometimes, jalapenos aplenty and lots of sour cream.

i like nachos that come with beans and meat in them or on them. most places don't do this, but if you find one, let me know. i'm sure that there are good nachos at authentic mexican places throughout my fair city, though i can rarely afford to partake in such fine dining.

what was my point??

yes.

starting things and finishing them. being bored cause i don't do anything. that's my point.

i am actually going to do something this year. this is the year of doing and not saying.

indeed.

over and out,
the gw

ps: also going to buy a chess board, who wants to play?

i think i'm losing it.

and by "it", i am not referring to my mental state. well, not in the traditional sense. i think i'm losing perspective, maybe i'm losing my sense of humour. i think i'm getting dull. like the knife in the drawer you never use. left to collect dust while you look to sharper knives to get the job done quicker, and with a more pleasing result.

and i guess i need a sharpening stone. something to grind my teeth against to remember what it was that i fought for in the first place. when everyone lets you get away with everything, it makes it hard to be accountable to yourself.

i guess it's part of being an individual. but i've always had an anchor to keep this ship from sailing away. now adrift in the ocean i realize that my compass says north is south and the E has worn off completely.

i thought that perhaps i was just bored, that i needed something new to entertain me. because lately, that's all anything has been about: entertainment. i forgot that somewhere along the way, i was trying to learn something as well.

i learn something new everyday, but it's all just committed to short term memory. (did you know there was a friendly fire incident two days ago where american planes fired on british tanks in iraq? killed a british soldier and everything. check it out on youtube) it's gotten to the point where i'm no longer stimulated by the passing of everyday events, i'm just entertained.

does anyone else feel like this??

i am analytical i suppose, and i am more in touch with myself than i ever have been. but in terms of the outside world, i feel like a dog off a leash. i can do everything, stuff i never thought i could do. but i miss having a life.

i miss having someone to share it with.
(i forgot it was valentine's day until i went to google and noticed that they had changed their logo.)

crawling out of this hole in the ground everyday to participate in some task that to most would seem extraordinary, but to me just feels menial.

the little moments of solitude shared with someone in the early hours of the morning, lying in bed when the sun comes up, learning life's secrets without any words.

i understand how people disappear from their own bodies now. empty shells filled with starbucks coffee wearing the latest h&m fashions.

i want a real life back. i'm tired of playing pretend and i've gotta do something different.

i think i may hit the reset button this spring.

i have played this game for a long time, and i know all the secret moves. i know the codes and i've got the gold key to open the door to the last boss.

but maybe i'll save my last quarter for the new release?

the best thing ever for music geeks.