planets of organic.

Audrey: "What you need is a nice girl to settle down with."

Me: "Oh man, my parents have been telling me that for years!"

I love hopelessly oblivious coworkers.

missed connections, part 5.

Me: a slender twentysomething male wearing a charcoal grey v-neck, jeans, and flip-flops.

You: a morbidly obese fourtysomething female walking along Whyte Ave this morning proudly wearing a bright purple t-shirt with the phrase "I LOVE JUNK FOOD" accompanied by pictures of milkshakes and chocolate bars.

Let's be best friends?

I'll supply the cupcakes?

Taxidermia.

Flame throwing penises? Check.

Corpulent swimmers? Check.

Bizarre taxidermy? Check.

Sounds like my kind of movie.

Oh, I'm in a lull.

Being alone, it can be quite romantic

Like Jacques Cousteau underneath the Atlantic

A fantastic voyage to parts unknown

Going to depths where the sun's never shone

And I fascinate myself when I'm alone.

Oh Andrew Bird, you know me too well. Tonight I went on a dinner-and-a-movie date with myself and it proved to be one of the best nights I've had since moving to the city. I had almost forgotten how enjoyable it is to just be...by myself.

Lull (ft. Dianogah) - Andrew Bird

Oh the hullaballabalú!

If I were a fish and you were a seashell

Would you marry me anyways?

Would you have my babies?

If this song doesn't leave you reeling in its adorableness, you probably have no soul.

If I Were A Fish - múm

The new múm album (Sing Along To Songs You Don't Know) comes out on August 24th. So far I've found it to be the most accessible (but not in a negative sense!) of all their albums. So quirky! So cute!

You will fall in love. I am sure.

missed connections, part 4.

Me: a slender twentysomething wearing a sea-foam/ash-grey t-shirt, a red striped hoodie, jeans, and carrying a bright yellow backpack.

You: a mid to late twenties salesman in a black shirt with a striped tie who I could see texting your friend on bus route 8 yesterday. I believe your words to him were "theres a crazy hot chick behind me on the bus but i dont want to turn around and make it obvious", which I could read over your shoulder. I could read this over your shoulder because I was behind you. The only person behind you in fact.

While I realize my lack of an American Eagle polo may have proven confusing given the rigid gender binary society expects us to follow, I hardly think it was enough to merit a blunder of this proportion. Maybe in the future taking a second glance might not be a bad idea...

missed connections, part 3.

Me: a slender twentysomething wearing a dark grey t-shirt, black hoodie, skinny jeans, and carrying a beige tote bag.

You: a fortysomething East Indian man wearing a black Umbro shirt who, with smiling lips slightly parted, tongue flitting in & out, and eyes bulging in a decidedly arthropod-like manner, spent the hour or so of bus route 33 straining your neck to turn around and eye rape me yesterday.

I just wanted to thank you for reminding me as to why I lock my doors at night.

Like a seed in the ground.

In the off chance that you missed it, I'm deeply in lust with Patrick Watson.

Just another ordinary day.

The past month or so I've found myself grossly underwhelmed with the new albums coming out. Perhaps my former morbid gorging on anything I came across had left me desensitized, but nothing seemed capable of holding my attention for any length of time.

With that said, the aural appetite of this leviathan has been renewed upon stumbling across Patrick Watson's newest album, Wooden Arms.

Upon the first listen I was immediately enthralled. His ethereal voice still creeps hauntingly up my spine to reverberate within the confines of my head, and really what more could one ask for?

This album comes out later this month, so whether you were a fan of his Polaris-winning sophomore release Closer to Paradise or a newcomer to his particular, and often wonderfully peculiar, brand of "cabaret pop meets indie rock" I strongly suggest you keep your eyes open for it.

Try it: Patrick Watson - Firewood

missed connections, part 2.

Me: a slender twentysomething male wearing a striped grey v-neck, a purple hoodie, and skinny jeans.

You: a slightly disheveled older gentleman wearing a grey button up shirt and brown cardigan who, while walking by my roommate and I in a Tim Horton's last week, commented on my lack of shaving. While your criticism was entirely merited, your invasion of my personal space as you reached down to stroke my chin was not.

I think the admixture of shock and horror on my face scared you away, but in retrospect I just wanted to say thank you for making my day. Call me sometime?

Oh, let's get old old fashioned.

Sam Amidon amazes me on a fairly consistent basis. However, after finally having looked up one of the songs that provided inspiration for his album "All Is Well", I think I'm finally beginning to understand the sheer genius of it.

For your perusal:

The traditional folk song "Pretty Saro" (lyrics).

Mr. Amidon's reinterpretation of it (lyrics).

You can get his album here.

Like a daydream. Or a fever.

Try as I might, this won't leave my head.

The skyline was beautiful on fire

All twisted metal stretching upwards

Everything washed in a thin orange haze

I said, "Kiss me, you're beautiful -

These are truly the last days"

You grabbed my hand

And we fell into it

Like a daydream

Or a fever.

Godspeed You! Black Emperor - The Dead Flag Blues

Listen to it

Buy it

missed connections, part 1.

Me: a slender twentysomething male wearing flip-flops, jean capris, and a light pink v-neck tshirt.

You: a slightly sketchy looking thirtysomething wearing a wifebeater and jeans who, while passing me in front of a scrapbooking store in downtown Camrose at 10pm tonight, asked me if I had any coke to sell you. After informing you that I did not, you wished me a Merry Christmas, shook my hand, and continued on your way.

I just wanted to thank you for making my night.