Archive for May, 2006

Rockin’ The Mike: The New Nancy Drew Mysteries

This mix was put together a few months back. I'm uploading it today since it's kinda topical– it's for the girl who has everything (including this mix on her iPod) on the occassion of her 29th!  Just thought i'd share it with the world. Happy birthday Nance.

The New Nancy Drew Mysteries

Track Artist: Song:
1 Azure Ray The Devil's Feet
2 The Joggers Hot Autism
3 Okkervil River Black
4 Luna Tiger Lily
5 The Velvet Underground Femme Fatale
6 Robyn Konichiwa Bitches
7 Edan Funky Voltron (Ft. Insight)
8 The Jam In The City
9 Guided By Voices Jane Of The Waking Universe
10 The Zombies Care Of Cell 44
11 Lewis Taylor Lucky(Kruder & Dorfmeister Remix)
12 Feist Tout Doucement
13 The Clash Rudie Can't Fail
14 Black Star Astronomy (8th Light)
15 The Shins Mine's Not A High Horse
16 Devendra Banhart Chinese Children
17 Bob Dylan Isis
18 Gilberto Gil Bat Macumba
19 Jamie Lidell What's the Use
20 The Style Council Walls Come Tumbling Down!
21 Duran Duran The Chauffeur

What’s Your Powermove?: ‘The Show’ with Ze Frank

i've got pixels and i know how to use 'em

There are reasons why you should never spend your weekends without company. After spending the better part of the evening hours of this previous weekend left to my own devices, ostensibly trying to catch up on some sleep only to work myself into a mental lather through liberal use of motion sickness pills and too much Cherry Citrus Fresca– someone oughta put a recommended daily dose on those things— i found myself in a surreal headspace locked into a strange eliptical orbit between spastically paranoid 5am fits: wondering in a beckett-esque sorta way exactly why I currently had no friends and moreover exactly how long that state of affairs would continue. In that time i managed to: hyperventilate; read a few trembling paragraphs of Flann O’Brien’s ‘The Third Policeman’ (a book i’ve had in my library for seven years which i dare say is longer than the average ‘Lost’ fan); and sort through a fair number of metafilter posts. And i’m certainly glad i did since i came across a dandy little gem of a site that kept me company during my dark night of the soul and and provided hours of hilarity in the ‘waking’ hours that lay ahead. Continue reading ‘What’s Your Powermove?: ‘The Show’ with Ze Frank’

The New Face of Zero and One: fake.makeover

Those of you regularly checking in on the fake rants and musings may have noticed that the site has pulled a Gregor Samsa. Gone is the monochrome in favour of something a little more fluid and friendly. The header will regularly change as well depending on the mood of the editorial staff. The current header is a bit of banksy graffiti someone was kind enough to post on flikr. Let us know what you think of the new look by posting a comment.

Also new is the RSS feed. That's right, you can subscribe to Fake and get it delivered fresh and hot to your inbox or feed aggregator whenever the fancy strikes for new fake. posts. just click the RSS link and cut and past the URL. What could be simpler?

y'know y'wanna.

Trampoline Hall

I know going out on a monday night isn't usually high on the priority list. Combined with licking your wounds from the weekend that preceded, the first day of the work-week is normally subdued at best and a totally draining train-wreck write-off at worst.

Still if you want something to do at least one monday out of the month I highly recommend swinging by Sneaky Dee's for the festivities at Trampoline Hall.

Conceived of by the likes of Carl Wilson, Sheila Heti, Roberto Veri and others, and hosted by the stutteringly effervescent Misha Glouberman, the Trampoline Hall formula is deceptively simple: part university lecture, part performance art, part conversation. Each month sees a revolving door of curators selecting three lecturers who have one thing in common– they can have no prior background or any formal expertise/training in the subject of their lecture. You can always guarantee an interesting take on even the most mundane subjects as well as diverse topics as seemingly unrelated to the urban arts scene as 'animal husbandry'.

The highlight of yesterday's series was Amy Langstaff's lecture on etiquette and the nature of embarassment. It was equally funny and poignant especially considering the lecture that came before and established beyond the shadow of a doubt what i always assumed that there are two kinds of people:  those who vomit in their sleeves and those who don't.  Her talk even managed to become more personal and a heckuva lot more topical by me inadvertently spilling my beer which gave those seated at the table around me discussion fodder on the nature of schadenfreude as we sopped up the suds with our lecture programmes.

What: Trampoline Hall

When: Once a month– always on a monday

Tickets: $6 available the thursday before the event at Soundscapes on College St. and $5 at the door starting at 6:30 pm.

Rockin’ The Mike: Nail Our Shadows To The Bedpost

Of those rare, dusty moments cast in affection's umbrage, this particular one caught me by surprise since it's origins were hardly noble; the story'd hardly be worth mentioning at all were it not for its persistence. Or perhaps that's where the significance was born. It wasn't even that i was particularly fond of, or all that connected to her. She was lovely, don't get me wrong and for some reason, bathed in that instant all i wanted was to render that single, slender, perfect moment static and dwell in it forever. Despite what she said about chemistry, I told her as she lay there, splendidly naked, that it was the alchemy that she should be afraid of– like chemistry but complicated with a tiny spark of magic: haunting moments, Unnameable, inexplicably– that that kind of long division always has remainders.

Being a romantic at heart I was convinced that dreamy, overlit afternoon that I could keep the sun from its pligrimage across the window pane if, in an act of passionate defiance i could only nail our shadows to the bedpost. But instead we got up, got dressed and said 'goodbye'.

She was so very meta. constantly asking me what i was thinking at every inopportunity. Never realising that sometimes i'm not thinking (most would argue that's classic understatement) and under the circumstances the best way to treat the moment was just to 'be' in that kinda german philosophy sorta way.

Scrutiny, it turns out was a weight it simply couldn't bare. So I made this CD for her as a last act of passionate defiance weeks after the holographic moment had passed– that split-second where the whole was entirely revealed, briefly flickered, and illuminating our trajectory– rendered us merely actors, merely sundials. The songs were chosen because sometimes you go crossed-eyed from reading too close. Half of what I said meant something else and the other half didn't mean anything at all.

However, all's not lost. We soldier on, safe in the knowledge that it's never not always the end of the world. And although these mixes are all really for Mike, this particular one goes out to Anna, hangin' out somewhere with the loonies tonight– apologies for the vintage threads this mix is dressed in, and splendidly naked thanks for fulfilling the promise of that distant moment made by someone else:

Nail Our Shadows to the Bedpost

Track Artist: Song:
1 Tahiti 80 Heartbeat
2 Scissor Sisters Filthy/Gorgeous
3 Kula Shaker Hush
4 The Flaming Lips Buggin'
5 Guided By Voices 14 Cheerleader Coldfront
6 Blur Coffee and TV
7 The Supremes Keep Me Hangin' On
8 Yeah Yeah Yeahs Y Control
9 Elastica Stutter
10 Elvis Costello Radio, Radio
11 Liz Phair Fuck and Run
12 The Cure Just Like Heaven
13 The Organ Memorize The City
14 Broken Social Scene Almost Crimes (Radio Kills Rexmix)
15 Franz Ferdinand Auf Achse
16 The Doves Words
17 Bloc Party Banquet
18 The Jam Going Underground
19 Blackstar Hater Players
20 New Order Ceremony (Single Mix)
21 Echo and the Bunnymen Lips Like Sugar
22 Annie Heartbeat

Food Dare: FOCO Aloe Vera Dessert

Raised from early childhood with the question: 'how do you know you don't like it, you haven't even tried it?' I've taken the question to heart and maybe even the slightest extreme where now my eating habits mirror my dating habits in that i've been known to put pretty much anything in my mouth once. maybe even twice just to make sure. This recurring 'Food Dare' section in fake. is designed to appeal to my playful sense of oral adventure and hopefully illuminate some of the more exotic and interesting food fare this citiy's shops have on offer.

They say the supermarket is a great place to pick up. I guess you could say I have a bit of an asian fetish then cos I seem to spend way too much time wandering the aisle of the various grocers and supermarkets around Gerrard and Broadview, weaving through aisles, chasing down exotic beauties that only speak to me in strange oriental umbrage, in accents incomprehensible.

Pacing through the aisles of a Gerrard East supermarket, I flash by shelves bursting with ramen [a subject for its own future series], ignoring the hordes of sweets and pleasantly stocked cans plump with all manner of food and bevvy– I'm looking for something a little more ecclectic; more novel. That hidden novelty finally reveals itself on the cusp of the frozen food section where i find the treat that's coming home with me: FOCO Aloe Vera Desert.

Aloe vera!?! Falling down more than once as a child i'm well acquainted with its medicinal properties and, along with garlic, its pancea status in the bosom of my mother's esteem. Up til now though, I didn't think the shit was edibie! well that's a good enough reason to try it. So I grab a couple of bags– they're cheap. like $.99 a pack– and take them home with me for a quiet evening in.

Heeding the "Chilled Before Serving" advice on the bag I can only assume that refrigerating it while i have some dinner is what's required. Mind you, how much refrigerating does something need if it's chilled before serving? Ever seen stressed out Aloe? Nah, me neither.

Supper finished, candle light and soft music at the ready I prepare myself to be seduced as I crack open the contents of the wonderfully squishy bag (feels like i imagine a bizarro-world breast implant would) and pour them into a bowl. Undetered by the sheer volume of liquid spilling into the bowl along with the peeled pieces of green-striped translucent aloe, i reach for a spoon and accept my first mouthful.

Anyone who's ever peeled a grape or eaten a lychee has a vague idea of what the pleasing toothy crunch of Aloe is like. Actually, cross the aforementioned with a cucumber and you've got it exactly. As for the taste, I'd be lying if I said the plant's natural flavour wasn't almost completely obscured by the artificially muscaty infused sugar solution which amplify the whole grape cum lychee vibe. Still, once the syrup's strong taste dissipates, it reveals the plant's pleasant, ghostly floral flavours, teasing in the foreground of your tastebuds for a second and then evanescese, requiring another mouthful just to make sure you didn't imagine it all.

Despite the package's claims touting the benefits of consuming Aloe Vera (apparently, amoung other things, it "helps to maintain tone of blood vessels, promotes good circulation, decrease body stress" being naturally rich in Vitamins, Minerals, Amino Acids and Enzymes) according to the Wikipedia entry on Aloe, there have been very few proper studies conducted on the benefits of interal uses of the plant. That being said, i dunno why you'd be looking for anything with healing properties in the desert section of an Asian supermarket in the first place.

The Verdict? Although it's either a bit too much flavour (if you drink all of the acompanying liquid) or too little flavour (if you're expecting a powerful flavour burst from this subtle cactus) it would definitely make a fine addition to a summer fruit salad for your next potluck and spark some interesting conversations as well.

Second Floor Bathroom Waiting Line at the Drake

Yesterday found me at The Drake Hotel through a chance invitation to attend the 20th anniversary benefit for the YMCA hostel on Queen St. W. A great cause helmed by a group of genuinely concerned and caring individuals.

Now I've never been a huge fan of The Drake. Probably because it reminds me of Chelsea. The football team, not the legendary New York hotel that the Drake seems to be trying so hard to emulate. Like the 'Blues', the Drake is awash in money that's been spent to offer a pretty, bandwagon-chic package that goes down easy. Also like the blues, for all it's got going for it, the product fails to deliver when it matters peddling in anti-climax for the most part.

Maybe I'm just bitter since i got yelled at for eating an olive straight outta the surly, fake-titted bartender's stash– why put it at the front of the bar where any drunken lout can stick a greasy paw in, huh? Much more cordial was former celebrity bartender Gordon Hanna lately of Food Network's show 'The Cookworks' who was exceedingly pleasant and took the time to chat with me as he muddled mojitos.

Surprisingly, the one place the air of contempt doesn't extend is the line up for the three bathrooms on the second floor. Apparently making friends is easy when you have something in common– like a swelling bladder. A stark contrast to the queue of sourpussed blonde airheads and poseurs waiting to use the ATM in the basement near the coatcheck, I was totally blown away by how amiable, friendly and unpretentious everyone in this line was while queueing for the next available room. And so it seems just when you think you've got this city all figured out it goes and pulls a fast one on ya. That's why I love living here and why despite what I said at the beginning of this post, I'll surely be back to Skypad at the Drake to use the loo and make some new friends.