We all squeezed the stick and we all pulled the fuckin trigger

I find it amazing how you can go for years without hearing an album, then listen to it again and remember every single word. Just happened with Phantom Power by the Hip. Back when they used to rock out with their cocks out.

Fuckin Fireworks baby.

Last weekend was Hillside, and it was pretty decent. The big downside was the fact that I had never heard of 95% of the acts at the thing.
It was good to get back though, since I missed it last year while I was out west.
The weather was pretty brutal for most of the weekend too. By Sunday we were ankle deep in mud, in our hippie-assed Birkenstocks of course.
It was good to catch up with the usual suspects. Every year it seems to feel like we were only sittin around the campfire the weekend before. But I actually only see those guys once a year.
My cuz and I got brutally drunk and stoned on the Friday night and passed out in our chairs. I woke up in the back seat of my car (for some reason) the following morning.

I have to say it kinda sucked that I missed two gigs that I really wanted to catch. One was due to the pissing rain, and the lack of a beer tent over the stage. And the other was caused by the beer tent, and it's stupid capacity rules.

Didn't buy any mirch this year, but I guess that kinda follows the problem of not knowing any of the damn bands. Tokyo Police Club was solid, even covered Tom Petty's American Girl.
And this year was a little less social than most. Usually meet a few interesting characters at those shows, but not so much this time. I did meet one cute 5 foot chick hangin out with her 6 foot friend. Both were pretty cute. But that was friday night, and my high level of intoxication probably turned them off pretty quickly.

My old man and step-mom showed for the saturday lineup, and I finally got my huge poster in the mail from Britain. Gotta assemble the thing now, no idea how I'm gonna do that...

Josh Ritter this weekend.
D-bomber this weekend.
Golf this weekend.
Beach this weekend.

Fuckin work tomorrow.

The ones and the zeros bleed n' make some noise...

I'm starting to think that technology is taking over my life. It seems lately that I always have to have something going on, be it on the computer, the TV, the cell, or through a pair of speakers.
It's like I want to watch a movie while listening to a new record at the same time, and play a computer game at the same damn time.
Not that I really play many games beyond the odd free cell or spider time-waster.
And I sure as hell don't take it as seriously as this kid does:



Seriously people, is this the best we can do?
If that kid didn't need therapy before that spectacle, he sure will now.

But for me this whole dependence on ones and zeros is starting to become a noticeable nuisance. Where I used to read the paper at lunch, I now find myself playing Texas Hold 'Em against a computer in my phone.
I'll sit around surfing the internet for hilarious photos rather than keep up on the BBC News.
And hitting the refresh button on yahoo sports a million times is a good replacement for oh, say... learning to play the guitar.

It all feels like filler for something that should have some meaning. Not exactly sure what that something might be, but whatever it is, it's missing in my boring-assed life lately.

On the topic of boredom, I spent a solid half hour rolling coins on Sunday, and cashed in $510 today at the old TD. Got me a new card too, the old one was becoming another techno pain in my asshole.
That shit's going into the Vegas fund. New Year's is gonna be a beauty this year...

On Sunday night, due to the terrible weather we've been getting lately, Kpizzle and I decided to spend the $25 bones to go catch my boy Steve Earle downtown. Walking up to the gates, as we were counting our cash (go figure I was short, and left to mooch from her) a dude just walked up and handed us two spare tix he had! Fucking mint that!
So we had a few beers and took in a solid show. No bitches barking in our ears this time around. And the crowd had to be at least twice what we had in Massey Hall. Lots of old people again haha. And I didn't stand a hope in hell of getting close enough to yell requests...

I forgot to mention in my last post that one of his best lines from the Massey show was, "I gotta say with Obama in the White House down south, it sure makes this asshole you've got up here look alot worse."

Touche.

Anyway, it's time for a run...

You go to school and you learn to read n' write, so you can walk into the county bank and sign away yer life

My floor and bed are absolutely covered in tiny little silver sparkles.
Fucking Heath Ledger and her goddamn glitter glue... living proof that if you let a woman into your bed, your life will go to hell. If not your life, then your sanity at the very least.

Work has been shitty this week, nothing seems to be working right.
Add acid and the pH fucking rises - things like that.
At least my boss finally took my suggestion to pass along certain files so I can do my job effectively, so I suppose that's a small blessing.

Saw Steve Earle last weekend at Massey Hall in TO. The audio could've been a little better, I have to say. And go figure, the loudest most ignorant bitch in the place was sitting two rows behind us. The phrases, "You go boyfriend!" and "I love you Stevie" were said far too many fucking times. I think it kinda ruined the show for my step-mom, unfortunately.


Ol' Steve looks more like a washed-up roadie than a legendary pioneer of the country-rock world, but damn he's solid live. Wicked on the guitar, and it looks absolutely effortless.
The show started off a little slow with a few too many Van Zandt tunes, but picked up big time after he played Tom Ames' Prayer. Highlights included My Old Friend the Blues, Jerusalem, Devil's Right Hand, Someday, Goodbye, Guitar Town, and of course Copperhead Road.

Jason Collett as an opening act was pretty good too. Maybe a little too mellow. And get some fucking pants that fit properly, you asshole.

I'm debating hitting up Bluesfest this weekend to see Earle again, and repeatedly requesting Angry Young Man. Might be roped into seeing the new HPo though, so we shall see if that pans out...

I always think of tons of things to write about during the day, then I get home and forget everything.

Typical.

C'mon Kumon

I always seem to have trouble writing on here after I write a eulogy.
I remember when Mike died it took forever for me to get something up here to take the place of his picture. I guess I just don't feel like writing much in times like these.

But I have to say that recent events have cheered me up alot. I'm still pretty pissed off about alot of things in the last 6 months or so, but in the last week things have taken a turn for the better. For awhile there it seemed like bad things kept happening, and I kept saying well it can't get much worse - only to see things get worse... and worse.

I actually applied for a job up in Ottawa last week, but the following day my boss offered me a substantial raise along with full time status, so it looks like I'll be stickin around London for awhile. I was thinking it might be time for a change, but I suppose a change that big will have to wait.

I've also had an unexpected rise in the female presence in my life. It kinda came out of the blue on me, to be honest.

In completely unrelated news, I find it incredible that this is the logo for a fuckin learning centre for children:
Are kids supposed to be proud that they attend this fucking place??
It looks like a bewildered and retarded kid without a nose. Who the hell though that up?

Not much else to say beyond "holy shit it's hot in my lab".
27 degrees today. What a piss-me-off...

The loss of an icon.

This past weekend my family, and the town of Penetanguishene, lost a great man.

My father's older brother, Henry Bisschop, passed away from cancer.

It was his third battle with the disease in the past five years, and each time he beat it, he couldn't come back as strong physically. But he always remained positive, even in his final days.

Henry was the type of man that everyone respected.
He was a straight shooter; always completely honest with anyone he came into contact with.
He was also a no-nonsense kind of man; very practical, and always productive. Even in his retirement he was extremely active in the community and with his family.
He was compassionate man who didn't discriminate or judge people.
He was a man of high morals and values.

He was the kind of man that had no enemies.

Henry was a teacher, a principal, a hockey coach and referee, a family man, a member of the church, a Mucker (the Mucker, in fact), a great story teller, and man that people loved to follow. And he was an amazing uncle who taught me many lessons as a child and as a man.


My dad was probably his closest sibling, and I know he's going to have many tough days ahead of him dealing with this loss. But my brother and I are very proud that our dad was able to give a heartfelt speech at his funeral. I really can't imagine how tough it must be, but I know it affects me too. I'm usually a rock with this kind of thing, but I've never lost someone this close before. I guess every rock will crack if you hit it in the right spot.

I could go on about how many people loved him, but the short list is as follows:


And that doesn't even scratch the surface of how many people's lives were touched by the man.

I can only hope that I'll have hundreds of friends and family members standing in line in the rain (because the funeral home was too full) just to pay their respects when I die.
I hope I'm able to raise my children as well as Henry did.
I hope I'm able to live my life with the same character that he always showed, even in the tough times.

Henry used to laugh that I never called him "Uncle Henry", it was always just "Henry". He used to say "I've got 45 year-old nephews that call me Uncle, but not Travis!"

Well I have to say Henry, I've never been anything but proud to be your nephew.
I hope you're resting peacefully now.

May Two-Four

Before it escapes me entirely, I'd better make a quick post about this year's May 24 weekend.

The weekend was supposed to have started on Thursday up in Bayfield at a couple of friends' cottage. I had taken the Friday off in preparation for two nights up there, followed by two nights up near Honey Harbour with the Muckers up at MacCrae.

But with all the knife-in-the-back bullshit the week before, I decided to hold out and come up on Friday with a few buddies who weren't involved in all of that shit (a few people who actually were involved were at the cottage Thurs night, so I think it was a good idea to hold off).

Friday night was good, but after a long day of drinking, and a big game strip flip-cup (in which I was crushing red wine instead of beer) I got blackout drunk and ended up falling on my ass when KP tried to grab a piggieback ride from me. I was put to bed shortly thereafter. hahaha

The next day James and I had a devastating 3 hour drive to Barrie, which started at about 8:30. Once we got there, he had another two hours to his cottage, and I had another hour or so in my parents' car followed by a 20 minute hike through mud and rock to meet the Muckers.

Fortunately the rain had only come on the Friday night, and held off for the rest of the weekend. But fuck me was it ever cold. So cold you didnt want to touch many of those cold beers. The wind was the worst part of it. Add up all of the bullshit back home, and I really didn't drink much at all for the rest of the weekend. Wasn't really in the mood...

Caught a ton of fish though. One little ballsy mofo was about the size of my lure:

My Bro ended up winning the trophy, but it was a small crew of guys up there this year, so the winning fish wasn't exactly a behemoth.

If I can remember now, I think we had: myself, my bro, my old man, Sean, Pun, Pun's bro, Neil, Baz, Overdrink, Zif (and his badass dog Aero), Anders, Jamie Doe, and Eddie who had to leave early cuz he got sick.

Scale of mintness for your typical May 24: 4 out of 10

We had some massive highs... we had some crushing lows

Every now and then I wake up after a night of heavy drinking and I feel fucking invincible.
It's a great feeling, let me tell ya.
It usually comes on when I don't have a hangover. And today is just one of those days. Yesterday I was brutally hungover from a ridiculous night of drinking on friday, but today I feel like a million bucks.

Speaking of, I did not win the lottery last week. Not even close.
But I feel like I'm due to win someday. $50 mil sounds like a nice round number to me.
I'll play the next big one.

This weekend was full of ridiculous conversations and terrible moments. At the same time it's the most fun I've had in awhile. I'm pretty much all over the map.
Massive highs.
Crushing lows.

If I hadn't received a phone call from a certain hungover girl on saturday I'd be on depression row at the moment. Fortunately the call came and I'm alright.

Last night ol' B-rad and I partied it up on the roof of the downtown Starbucks, at a friend's apartment. I had actually only met the girl once before, but she seems pretty cool. Too bad she's moving out of that pad in a week. It was sick. We had to squeeze out a window and climb on top of AC units to get to the rooftop. Lots of bitties at the party.

I made some terrible comments to the "cushy-ab girl" and I really need to call her to apologize for that. I might've just put the last nail in the coffin with her. We shall see...

I've come to the realization that once I get some booze in me, I'll pretty much say anything. And I mean fucking anything. My normally weak-sauce brain-to-mouth filter dissolves completely and I say whatever I want, regardless of the consequences. I should really work on that.

Saw Terminator yesterday, and that 3D Monsters vs. Aliens the other night too. Both were about as good as I expected. Gotta hit up Star Trek this week.

I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now

I always was better with a pen than I could ever be with the spoken word.

She told me I should be a writer, so here goes...

Tonight I've started writing the book I've been thinking about writing for years. It's going to be a memoir or sorts, running through the first quarter century of my life. All the regrets, the self indulgence, the stupidity, the great moments, the tragedies, and all the little things that piled up to spit out the over-analyzing fool you see before you today.
I'm gonna call it My Back Pages, circa Bob Dylan.

At this point I feel like it's going to end up as a mess of incoherent rambling and anecdotes that come out in no particular order. But organization can wait.
And once I get this behemoth written, I'll start into some fiction. Maybe a novel, maybe a collection of stories like Doghouse Roses. Get published with that, then bust out the personal shit.

Sell a million copies.
Make a million dollars.
Get the girl.

Who's the pitchers in this game?