It’s been a rather busy weekend of dashing around the city and doing some recovery of files on a dead hard drive. I don’t think I’ve had more than a couple of hours of down time the entire time. It’s been quite enjoyable, but very draining as well.
On Saturay morning I awoke just in time to answer a call from Wanda, who came into the city to see a few concerts over the weekend. After cleaning the apartment and myself, I caught a bus with Nathan so that we could meet with Wanda. April was with Wanda then, and it was nice to spend a few minutes with those two before I had to hurry back home.
I was able to make it back here just in time to meet my parents as they came to the walk way. I then talked with them and wandered with them during a shopping excursion for the afternoon. It was nice to see them again after a couple months of not being able to.
The remainder of Saturday was spent copying what files I could from the dead external hard drive. I was unable to recover some rather important documents, but I believe my music collection has been spared much damage. It’s really a shame that I’ve lost some rather nice photos I had saved of some of my friends, though, and that’s what bothers me most.
Last night I watched Punch Drunk Love while files were being drawn out of the wreck of a drive. I found it to be an excellent film, especially due to Sandler and Watson’s performances and Anderson’s directing prowess. It’s a worthy watch.
I was awakened Sunday by Wanda and, in a sleepy, hazy conversation, agreed to meet her downtown. A quick preparation and a nice walk brought me there, and a lengthy wait brought Wanda. We had a nice afternoon and early evening together wandering, browsing and consuming food and drink. It was nice to spend time with her again without other people, since it’s been a while since we hung out like that. I very much enjoy the dynamic when Wanda, April and I hang out, though.
One of the highlights of the day was having delicious stone soup at Halifax Backpacker’s Hostel. It had a great atmosphere and interesting folks from various countries (Australia and Japan, that I noticed). I’ll be sure to stop in there again, if only for the soup. If any of you ever decide to visit here in Halifax, it seems like the most reasonably priced place to stay.

Years:
2000
2001
2002
2003

Grania + Roth:
Beginnings
Leaves
Selmis
Grey Light
After Dream

Moths + Fireflies:
First Fire Dances
Moths + Fireflies

Moon’s Voice:
Decay (A Grey Portrait)
Decay (Violence)
Decay (Death)

Whisper Echos:
Ragnarok Bubble
Midnight Sunset Life
Vanilla Tongues

Other:
Harmonic Saviours Are Free Of Decay
Leaving Nothing In The Snow Behind

Bless the Canadian library network! Two days ago I searched the online database the local libraries offer, and placed a request for Ross Laird‘s Grain of Truth, which was found nearest in Toronto. When I visited the library today (my third day in a row) the book had just arrived and was waiting for me. I was pleasantly surprised by the speed this book arrived here, and I respect the library system even more, and will praise it as an exemplar of efficiency for quite some time.
I just spent some time looking around Mr. Laird‘s redesigned website, and I would like to mention that it’s visually pleasing and contains some excellent content. Especially interesting and insightful was “Psychological patterns in sport and in life,” an exploration of patterns of achievement (in individuals, groups, and cultures) prompted by Laird’s observation of the Vancouver Canucks’ tendency to almost win. Laird is an exceptional writer who I highly recommend introducing yourself to, espcially if you have any interest in craftsmanship.

This afternoon I stopped by at Cerra’s place to pick up a book, Blankets, I needed to return the library. She offering me some delicious macaroni, which I could certainly not refuse. We ended up watching a rather interesting show on Discovery about cephalopod mollusks (octopus, squid, and cuttlefish). The language and intelligence theorized to be held by these creatures by the British Colombian scientists was quite remarkable. The videography was stunning, and brought forth longing to have that channel here.

I talked again this evening with my friend Sarah, who lives in Texas. We had an enjoyable conversation, though she was forced to remain in her “circle of Apollo communication” due to bad reception there. She’s making plans to make a road trip to Chicago, then up to Maine, and possibly visiting me here in Nova Scotia. It’d be quite the adventure for her, I’m sure, and it would certainly be wonderful to be able to spend some time with her.

As the one year landmark of Frozen Truth . com approaches, I find myself reexamining what role I wish this journal to play, and how I wish to approach writing in it. I’ve experienced a great deal of change and growth in regards to both, and I’d like to make the symbolic milestone correspond with a sincere effort to strengthen the focus, quality and value of what I share through this site.
In a lighter vein, I’ve done some work on a compilation of the first year I’ve kept my words here. I hope to make it available as a .pdf file so that any of you who would like can print yourself a hard copy or read it on various platforms. I think it’ll be a nice way to wrap up the year and create something a bit more concrete than a collection of web-based journal entries.

Dark and dead-still is the air
It’s a quiet space with only you
Memories of batterings
Pound within my head, cloud my senses

How do we recover here?
Now that we’ve stepped into deep hiding
Is there a moonlit path open?
Do we crawl or dance back to the world?

Disconnected souls won’t call
We won’t move mountains without voices
Have we failed our cause through death?
Was our softness doomed against the fists?

Cut and bruised, our lives trickle
Into deep living ocean stillness
We’ve pulled away from bodies in pain
Damage so quick and devistating

I feel the threads we carry
Heartbeats give us rhythm, pulsed true news
There’s sad-fading in the songs
Trickle tears together, let us dance

Hope and will we share, with love
Healing may be far out of our reach
But let us stretch and hold on
We cannot lose the woven moon-cord

Tonight I talked with Sarah, one of my dear, dear disciples. It was quite nice to chat voice to voice at last, and she sounds as cool as I had imagined. We talked about Jack Kerouac, music, jobs and places. It was great to talk with someone who shares some of my passions (especially so in music and books), and I’m hoping to have another chance soon.
Since last fall there has been a CD that Nathan and I have wanted to listen to but either didn’t have the resources for or were distracted from. We finally pooled some change and brought home Rockets Burst From The Streetlamps‘ Above A Moving Train. It’s a rather enjoyable album, though not overly tight or conventionally valued. The vocals are a bit hazy and the instrumentation’s similarly blurred, but there are some moments of brilliance. It’s worth checking out for sure, but not for everyone. You can purchase it and other albums (The band Freezepop is worth checking out for their beautiful website alone) from the Archenemy Recording Company.
At the library today (yes, I’ve been visiting it quite frequently) I borrowed a Charlie Parker collection (it’s a nice broad look at Mr. Parker’s work) and a beginner’s book on folk guitar (which should prompt me to practice a bit more in the coming weeks). Libraries are truly one of the greatest resources a community can have, by providing vast quantities of informaton, entertainment and art, as well as providing a admirable example of egalitarian social good that is universally beneficial (we all have access to the library and it benefits everyone).

I found What Jazz Is, which I borrowed from the library yesterday, to be a quality introduction to jazz. Written by jazz pianist Jonny King, it was steeped in firsthand knowledge of the genre, and also a humbleness and enthusiasm that made the reading not only informative, but entertaining.
As a jazz neophyte, I approached this book with a lot of appreciation for jazz, but not a great deal of technical or historical knowledge of the genre. The book provided both of the latter in abundance. In easily digested portions, pieces of the jazz genre were explained, from the improvisational and “swing factor” roots to the various instruments, important players and subgenres. With such a wealth of diversity and history, it was surprising that so much could be conveyed while still only showing the the most general review of the genre.
I’ve certainly come away with and even greater appreciation and understanding of jazz. Perhaps not a book for seasoned jazz enthusiasts, this is undoubtably valuable to newcomers in the world of jazz. It’s an excellent starting point that will leave you excited to experience the many flavours of jazz.

My sister and I visited the library this afternoon and there I was able to find some music and a book to keep my mind growing. Crash Test Dummies’ God Shuffled His Feet is an old favourite of mine (I have fond memories of listening to the cassette in my parents’ living room and in their cars), and I felt compelled to borrow it when I came across it. In addition to that album, I felt like exploring jazz further, so I picked up a live double release from Keith Jarrett, Gary Peacock and Jack DeJohnette titled Always Let Me Go and Jonny King’s book What Jazz Is (An Insider’s Guide to Understanding and Listening to Jazz), which came with a companion CD. I’m looking forward to experiencing each of these.
Not long ago I finished watching Lost in Translation. It had been floating around the apartment for quite a long while, but I finally got around to giving it some time. It was quite an enjoyable drama, though it did have some humourous elements. I found it to have a subtle story that gave a sense of realism. Scarlett Johansson and Bill Murray were endearing leads, both providing sevral memorable scenes. It’s worth giving a couple hours to.
I’ve discovered that one of the best $1 investments is 30 feet of speaker wire. No longer are my speakers confined to one corner of my room, but now adorn two opposing walls and two adjacent corners. The increased stereo effect is quite enjoyable.
My room’s feeling more comfortable than it has in quite a few months. It’s not quite feng shui, but it’s feeling homey and natural in a way I don’t believe it ever has. Some of you cats should stop by and see for yourself. I can break out some Jenga, Risk or a deck of cards and we’ll have a grand time. Or we can listen to music and talk. This room needs some life in it other than myself and Papina, in all its growing-glory.
Wednesday will be a day of change.

I have a nice, steady rain as a backdrop as I’m typing this. Rain is wholly soothing and textured. When I listen carefully I can make out the differences in terrain and objects being hit, and that comforts.
I’m drinking chilled lemon ginseng green tea, and I find it far more pleasant than I expected. I’ve never been able acquire a taste for tea, but lately I’ve decided to give it another chance. I still greatly prefer coffee, but tea is a nice alternative for evenings when I might like to have some sleep.
I’ve continued my alphabetic listening again today, reaching Joel Plaskett Emergency. I did take some breaks in order to listen to a CD of Arabic remixes, Shalabi Effect, Auf Der Maur, Katie Melua and A Silver Mt. Zion outside of the planned order. I’m very thankful for the library of music I have, for it never disappoints me.
I’ve noticed a rather odd tendency among record store workers to dislike album packaging that does not fall into the plastic jewelcase category (and to grumble about it when I choose to purchase such recordings). I suppose it may make their jobs slightly less convenient and uniform, but I can’t find anything about unique packaging which makes them unappealing. The texture and smell of paper will always be more rewarding to me than plastics, and the cover and liner art of most albums packaged in paper seems to be of better quality (not to mention that labels such as Arts & Crafts, Constellation and Alien8 which use non-plastic packaging often happen to be releasing the most consistantly wonderful albums).
I moved my room around this evening. For years I’ve been compelled to alter the layout of my living spaces quite often. I enjoy change. This time my desk has ened up in the closet, and boxes, my dresser and book case have formed an asymetric continent of wood and plastic in a corner.

Shalabi Effect is an improvisational quartet mixing, among other musical elements, psychedelia and Middle Eastern and Indian themes. Focusing on spontaneity and interplay between players, creating fresh, and exciting music that has consistantly broken barriers. Like many of the other bands, artists and collectives that have been rising in my musical consumption, Shalabi Effect is part of the web of artists in the Toronto and Montreal scenes, with member Anthony Seck as part of Valley of the Giants and guest musicians Sophie Trudeau (A Silver Mt. Zion, Godspeed You! Black Emperor), Deidre Smith (Strawberry, The Squarewaves) and Charles Spearin (Broken Social Scene, Do Make Say Think) appearing on S.E. releases being some of the more prominent connections.
I’ve had a lot of love for the previous albums Shalabi Effect have released, so I was quite pleased to be able to bring home their newest offering, Pink Abyss, this afternoon. The title suggests sexual themes (as does the eighth track, “Deep Throat”) and the music does not disappoint, supplying what they call their “pop record”, a far more melodic and sexy collection of works than both previous albums, The Trial of St-Orange and Shalabi Effect. It’s a departure with familiar trappings.
“Message From The Pink Abyss” begins the album with an electronic and ambient mix that stays closest to the older S.E. It’s followed by “Bright Guilty World,” a cool and flowing jazz-like song with the nonchalantly enchanting voice of Elizabeth Anka Vajagic. “Shivapria” is a gentle and beautiful short piece that seems much like the score to a nature film. “Blue Sunshine” is the track most approaching traditional pop style, and shares the feel of several songs from Broken Social Scene songs. “Iron and Blood” is an awkward-beautiful track that brings up the urge to dance and echoes Valley of the Giants. “Imps” is a standout track, with rising motions that had me swaying and filled with added enthusiasm and an energy that rivals the best of Celtic reels. “We’ll Never Make It Out Alive” provides a sweeping musical landscape unmatched in its visual-inducing journey. The disc closes with “Kinder Surprise” (named after a chocolate egg and toy combo that is central to my childhood candy nostalgia), a track that is as exciting and joyous as its namesake ever was, filled with laughter and bright sound.
If you’re not an adventurous sort, and like to stick to convention, this album may not be for you. However, if you treasure diversity and truly love music, then you may find Pink Abyss fits you perfectly. It’s an exceptional album in all respects and already one of my favourites of this year.

I just finished reading an essay by George Orwell titled “Politics and the English Language.” It’s a compelling look at the English language and the interplay of degrading language and degrading thought (a downward spiral we must confront).
Orwell expresses concern that language had, in 1946, become commonly filled with tired expression and far too much meaningless filler, notably in art criticism and politics. Surely today we are in no better shape, with a polarity of language, either filled with excessive words or words misused. If common writing (and speach as well) has become so poor, it’s not a great leap to believe that thought has as well, and that seems quite obviously true to me.
I found Orwell’s natural sense (I’m here on replacing the phrase “common sense” with “natural sense,” mostly on the grounds that sensibleness seems uncommon) suggestions for dealing with this great problem to be useful. He suggests that a writer of awareness would ask the questions, “What am I trying to say? What words will express it? What image or idiom will make it clearer? Is this image fresh enough to have an effect? Could I put it more shortly? Have I said anything that is avoidably ugly?” all of which are obviously beneficial. He also gives the wise guidelines of writing, “Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print. Never us a long word where a short one will do. If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out. Never use the passive where you can use the active. Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent. Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.”
Orwell states, provocatively, that “one ought to recognize that the present political chaos is connected with the decay of language, and that one can probably bring about some improvement by starting at the verbal end.” While he cautions that we can’t change the world immediately, he gives us the prodding that changing our own habits can make a difference. I believe this is advice worthy of heeding.