From my walk home tonight — a mini shuffle mix, for my lovely friends, scattered around the world.


Title credit: The Gaslight Anthem, Blue Jeans and White T-shirts


Whenever this comes on my stereo, no matter what status my life is currently floating around (good/bad/happy/sad/uncomfortable/stressed/etc), I turn it up and feel all chest-puffy awesome, kickassish and empowered. Thank you, Sharon Jones. And thank you to all those who I sing this to in my head. A good life story needs both villains and allies.

Title credit: Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, Better Things

Happy February 14th to all my favourite sad bastards!

Remember when you heard Casiotone for the Painfully Alone for the first time and went “ohhhh…. that’s exACTly what it felt like when I had that crush on ____.”? Well, Owen (of CFTPA) is still making music, and it is…. fucking awesome! Come see him at THE ANNEX LIVE in Toronto on Saturday night and remind yourself how beautiful sad stuff really is.

Details here:

Thank you, INDIE MACHINE for making this happen.

Advance Base – “Summer Music” (OFFICIAL VIDEO) – YouTube.

Title credit: Casiotone for the Painfully Alone, I love you Creedence

My solair chair (with minor war wounds from whomever “borrowed” it) has been returned to my back yard, Bal has started planting the immense vegetable garden around the perimeter (and into the driveway), and I’ve got my eye on this… (with a side of picnic table).

Bring it, summer.

Title credit: Modest Mouse, Untitled

I started this post over a year ago and I’m not sure what it was originally about, but with leisure time and forced hiatus from social networking* (this doesn’t count, even though I know it auto-posts to bookface), I have the chance to finish it and hit “publish”.  My original post items are in blue. Tobias Fünke joke.

*My holiday reading stack has included this month’s Atlantic, which puts effbook on the same list as cars for encouraging human tendency and preference for alone-ness, which can sometimes often devolve into loneliness.

So having no idea what this post was originally about, let’s look at robyn c. April 2011:

She was a few years over 27 (see title), but still able to appreciate a pint and a song about heartbreak and wanderlust.

She had the following listed songs on a mix she carried around in her pocket:

  • Oooh Child – The Five Stairsteps
  • Old Haunts – The Gaslight Anthem
  • Hearts are Down – The Beauties
  • Common People – Pulp
  • Never Ending Math Equation – Modest Mouse
    “I’m the same, as I was when I was six years old, and oh my god I feel so damn old.”

Common thread? Songs about… getting older, feeling better, looking back, annnnd initiating the rich to the ways of the blue collar (Did Jarvis predict this contemporary subculture, or create it?)

And then, curiously, she (god, third-person is weird) singled out a National cover of a Bruce hit (May UNCUT is also on my stack and features a quickie on the Born to Run photoshoot)–

This song is spectacular. The National – Mansion on the Hill

And that’s as far as robyn 2011 got. She did credit her title track (see below) as she always does. My guess, in this self-anthropological dig? The post was started sometime in January, nearish to her 30th birthday, when she was filled with heartbreak and wanderlust, and then added to in April, when she was on the cusp of something new (and eventually heartbreaking and wanderlust inspiring), and never finished as it seemed too far in the past and too unimportant to revisit and complete.

Good time waster. Back to the 40 pages of a killer manuscript I have left to edit.
Title credit: Trains Across the Sea – Silver Jews

Some before bed reading…

B: The end of photobooks.

I’m finishing up a book and have been stuck on the last 5-10 pages for a few months. Keep waiting for writers block to let up, but – a watched painting never dries?

It feels like making a mix tape for someone you have a giant, possibly unrequited crush on — you have to get it just right. EVERYTHING is at stake. It needs to knock the wind out, without feeling like a sucker punch. No cutesy “get it, haw haw?” endings, either. This is why I never try for the last word in an argument.

Robyn York - This Picture I Want Back - end

Fin. C’est tout, for now.

Title credit: Pulp, Happy Endings