Wait, I *do* drink an obscene amount of water and go for a brisk walk every seven or so minutes…

Oh hey, it’s the week that won’t quit, and it’s only Wednesday.

First, something great to salve the inevitable ranting to follow. If you’re in Canada, congrats! You can use CBC’s streaming service Gem for free, with no need to sign up for a thing. It’s quite good, the shows are all accessible and in good quality. I can’t speak for every show, but CBC does have some good quality shows (content, that is. Not just picture quality). One show I’ve been meaning to check out for a little while is Cavendish. Look, I’m thrilled any time I can catch Canadian Comedy’s Best Boy Mark Little in anything. He’s talented, clever, and his abundant love for story and film are evident in most everything he does. He co-stars in this new show with fellow Picnicface alum Andy Bush. If you don’t know Picnicface, they made Powerthirst, amongst a ton of other great stuff. If you don’t know Powerthirst, then you obviously didn’t go on The Internet in 2007 and you’re probably too young/old to be reading this site.

Cavendish, in short, is the story of two brothers returning to their childhood town. It’s more than that though, they’re reuniting with their (intentionally) estranged father, who runs a Museum of the Strange and Fantastic. The whole place has this creepy, almost Lovecraftian vibe, but the locals are disarmingly chipper. There are some really fun characters, but the dialogue is where the heart of it lies. It’s stuffed with fast paced, witty lines and neat bits. Best of all, they really give the lines and scenes time to breathe instead of cramming too much in. I’ve watched two episodes so far, and the fact that life’s getting in the way of more than that is a big sticking point for me. Curse you, life. Why can’t I be done with you already? There are six more episodes of this show to watch. I need time.

Oh, here’s the show by the way. The season just finished, so you can happily binge without remorse.

You know, I can’t even be bothered with anger tonight. Work’s been hectic. I’ve got other stuff in the pipeline I’ve been chugging along with, and it feels like I’ve had very little “me” time over the past few days. Concurrently, I just haven’t had the brain space to be depressed. It’s weird, almost like the lack of mental stimulation just brought into focus the void that I inhabit. But now that I need all my synapses just to complete all these tasks, I can’t spare any for circuitous negative self talk. Maybe that’s the secret, I just need to be permanently so run off my feet that I don’t notice the ground caving beneath them.

I have very little in common with a shark (aside from having claspers in lieu of a human penis. Why do you think I just ordered so many condoms?), but perhaps like some of them, I also die if I stop. Is that even true? Or just one of those urban myths? A quick google says that most sharks have a system of “buccal pumping” that keeps water flowing in and out of their mouths/gills. Apparently the swim or die thing has to do with sharks known as “obliate ram ventilators”, who perform a similar function by swimming. They don’t have to stay in constant motion, but it’s easier for them than the alternative. Wow. Who thought I’d learn something from a flippant comment?

If only I also had several rows of teeth. Then maybe I’d never bite off more than I could chew.

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Just For Lorn

I’ve got nothing important to say. I’m just angry today. So let’s figure out what’s making me angry today.

It’s not a revelation that I’m not thrilled with my current employment situation. I’m taking steps (when am not?) to remedy this, but if one thing time has taught me is that disappointment is eternal and uncompromising. So I’m done expecting or hoping for change. This is just who I am now. We had a discussion at work about viewing habits, media trends and whatnot, and it really got me in a funk. I know that things aren’t going well for traditional media. That’s not news. The Golden Age has long passed. The money just isn’t there. It’s restructuring and layoffs all around. Not currently at our work, but I’m sure there a few months off. Honestly, I don’t even care. We’re riding this sinking ship until we can jump to something steadier. Old hat. I’ve made my peace with the notion that it’s all fucked, and trends only seek to reinforce this.

But it got thinking about people. Human beings. And that made me angry. I started wondering what it takes to really create change, for citizens to rise up in defence of their ideals. It just doesn’t really happen anymore. Any hope that lay with the proles died with convenience. Sure, we have exponentially more slacktivism than any other generation. People get angry behind their keyboards and let out their rage to their own echo chambers. Of course progress takes time, and it’s all about having that longview. But like the Green Day song of the same name, we’re wanking around doing nothing all day. Case in point, I’ve been complaining about my situation for years and I’m still here. Rock bottom keeps shifting, and I’m not sure I’ll notice when I’ve actually gone past it. There’s always further to sink.

Here in Ontario, the right wing government is making huge changes to healthcare, education, labour laws and tenant rights, all without public consultation. Nobody is doing shit, and honestly we’re powerless to do so anyway. They’ve removed limits on rent increases for new properties, so landlords can charge what they want. They’re killing off health services to the sick and vulnerable. They’re privatising healthcare, with backdoor allowances for a two tiered system. “This is what we campaigned on during the election” they say. They didn’t. Their one promise was to bring back Buck A Beer, and that was a spectacular failure. Cool. These changes are gonna negatively impact a ton of already marginalised people, just so Doug Ford can line the pockets of his scummy corporate chums. “For The People”, right? What a world.

It’s small potatoes, but here in Canada there was a SiriusXM station called Canada Laughs. They played 100% Canadian comedy. It was a godsend for homegrown comics. The royalties enabled comics to create albums, pay their rent. Actually earn a living as a comic, to some extent. That’s not really something that happens in Canada. If you have talent and can uproot yourself for LA or NYC, you do. If you don’t, you just get by. Montreal hosts the world’s comedy Mecca, and Just For Laughs uses their platform to promote- you guessed it- massive American comics. Canadians are always left out in the cold, but Canada Laughs helped keep the fire burning just a little. Well now Canada Laughs has rebranded to Just For Laughs. Gone is the airplay for locals supplying- in special cases- between $500-$2000 per month. The new partnership means instead they’re gonna be playing all JFL content, which is mostly international material from pre-2012. No longer will this allow local comics to, in some cases, pursue their dream. Instead the royalties for locals will be piecemeal, while the likes of Jerry Seinfeld and Jeff Foxworthy can keep lining their pockets. Thanks Howie Mandel. People have been spreading the word. News outlets have picked it up. I managed to get our news department to run a story, but I’m not optimistic anything will change. The wheels have honestly already been set in motion, and righteous anger doesn’t get you very far.

But in today’s case, it got me to just over 700 words. So I guess that’s something.

Home, a loner

I’m phoning it in again today.

Don’t worry, I didn’t give myself a stern lecture yesterday only to turn around and ignore all of it. I’m lazy, but I’m not a dummy. I’m planning on working when I get home, but I want to save my focus for it. This is more of a post work, post gym, pre dinner deal. I was just too busy at work today working to find writing time. So you get the joy of a weird intermediary stop gap. Let’s just hope that post workout endorphins will make this slightly less of a snooze fest.

After spending the entire weekend alone, confined to home, I finally shared space with another human being last night. I’m not being cryptic. A friend came over, I made dinner and we watched a bunch of TV. A week or two back I wrote about living alone, how much I treasured having my own space in which I had total dominion. Just me, myself and I hanging out, doing what we all wanted. No bending to the whims of others, heavy books or teachers’ dirty looks. I also mentioned that I had no doubts (in defiance of the URL) that I’d come to miss my girlfriend and the space we carved out together. I was right. About both, really. I’m still very happy on my own. ALSO after a self-imposed exile, eschewing social contact for social networks, I realised I was pretty fucking lonely. Having my friend over mitigated it well. Chatting idly with someone, sharing a simple meal with someone. Watching TV while being in each other’s presence. I didn’t quite realise how much I’d missed that effortless socialising. And I don’t mean to frame these people as interchangeable, ’cause they’re anything but. I was also very happy to hang out with my friend because she’s awesome, we don’t get to see each other nearly enough, and I missed her.

You know what I miss about my girlfriend? She’s a fucking weirdo. This isn’t some glib euphemism like Instagram basics use for their bland boyfriends. She’s a strange cupcake. But I am too, and that’s why we work so well. It means she’s down to try new stuff, and she does it with glee. We avidly pick each other’s ingrown hairs and check each other’s arseholes if we’re concerned about them for some reason. She doesn’t have one foot out the door the moment I start talking in an odd cartoony accent for no reason, or come into the kitchen naked, dancing to the Chili’s Baby Back Ribs jingle. She goes along with it, or adds her own flair. We don’t have to spend time together just because we’re both home, but it’s always on the table, which is a comfort I think I’ve grown to take for granted. I honestly like spending time with her, and that counts for a lot. This “ball and chain” mentality has always seemed like pathetic rhetoric, and she backs up what idiocy it is. I can’t imagine someone putting up with my bullshit for long, but we’ve gotten pretty great at reciprocating and supporting one another’s dumb hang ups and excessive frivolities. I think we’d both be so fucking bored if we were stuck in some milquetoast smooth sailing nightmare.

Also intimacy. I miss intimacy something fierce. After all these years, we still know how to touch each other. To be considerate of what kind of touch and intimacy we’re seeking. Understanding give and take, and to not take it personal if it’s not actually desired right then. I wasn’t even meaning in a sexual way. Cuddles and closeness count for a lot, and it’s probably what I miss the most. Her smell and warmth, all softness and fantastic curves. But like, in a sexual way too. Anyone implying that’s not super important in a relationship can go fuck themselves. Nigh on five years together, I don’t know that either of us have wavered in the slightest. It’s reaffirming, and also brings home that this is all temporary. She’ll probably be back before I know it, and I’ll forget she ever wasn’t here.

Welp, guess it turned into a snooze fest for anyone but us. Sorry not sorry.

Miss opport-you-nities

How often do you have level up moments?

As a kid, they’re abundant. You’re growing, learning, understanding boundaries. You’re sussing out what you can and can’t do, where the edges of your potential lie. You learn more, understand more, those boundaries shift. You’re capable of more than you once were, and with this recognition, your potential grows. It’s exciting, and even a little scary. Sometimes it doesn’t happen when you expect, or you’re ready for an outcome that doesn’t work out. Coming up against this friction is frightening, but important. Oftentimes it’ll cause you to shift back, be reticent to put yourself out there. Growth, however, comes from facing the adversity in front of you and pushing past it. Learning to recalibrate and find new opportunities or directions to take. If everything’s too easy, you’re not growing. If you have nothing difficult to face, there’s no level to surpass. Nothing changes, and you stagnate. As an adult, this is plateauing, and it’s all too common.

This all sounds very heady, especially given where I’m going. Bear with me, it’s heading somewhere. Years ago I worked in radio. I was a production engineer, which is a fancy way of saying I edited audio. I recorded voice, made foley and mixed it all together with music and other SFX to make radio ads and station imaging. It was the best job I’ve ever had, and I feel like I’ve spent my entire adult life chasing that high. I had an amazingly creative boss, who constantly pushed me to experiment, throw shit at the wall and go beyond the limits of what I thought possible. I learned a lot, and there are lessons he taught that still continue to pay dividends. It was also a job. No matter how creative it was, it was a 9-5 and I treated it as such. Despite the opportunity in front of me, I rarely shifted from my “home by 5” mentality. I just wanted to get shit done and get out of there. I was stuck in this rut (right up my anus, really) where I was from the big city. I thought I was better than the work, that this was all a stopgap on my way to greater things. It was arrogant as fuck. I was also 22. I was arrogant as fuck. Much as I value the opportunities I took, I can’t help but think of the myriad that I missed because I’d mentally already flown the coop.

A week or so ago I looked at the pro tools hardware sitting on my desk. It always sits there, mostly disconnected. I was lucky to pick it up second hand for a steal, because even if it’s a few years out of date, it’s an incredibly powerful piece of hardware that enables infinite creativity. It’s been idle for a long time, there if I’ve needed it, but otherwise unused. I haven’t needed it much over the past few years, but whenever necessity has struck, it’s been there. Looking at this digi 002, I wondered why, with this powerful piece of hardware next to my keyboard, I was waiting for necessity to strike. I had the skills to do something, and was letting them languish. In my head there’d always been a link between audio editing and work. It was prime for necessity, simply because I’d never considered it any other way. What if, just maybe, I tried messing around with it for fun? Not because I had to, but because I could? Because in the grand scheme of things, I had the ability to do something that not everyone could, and casting that aside was a total waste. That if I only ever did what I had to, I’d rarely find out what I could do.

I’ve never particularly liked the song “Miss You” by Blink 182. When it was released, it signalled a departure from the more juvenile toilet humour the band prided itself on. It was their stab at a mature, haunting ballad, and they shit the bed entirely as soon as Tom DeLonge screamed out “WHERE ARE YOOOU” in his needly pitch. Over the years I’ve had endless laughs from shitting on it relentlessly. It’s been the subject of innumerable jokes and memes with friends. Nathan Fielder asked twitter to make a 12 hour loop of Tom’s verse, and I’ve trolled my mates with it on countless occasions. On Wednesday I wondered, just for shits and giggles, if the isolated vocals were out there to fuck around with. I found the vocals and made a seven second audio scene turning the dual vocals into a telephone conversation. It was incredibly insipid, and very fun to make. I went out to a beer event, stoked to have done something with my skills no matter how small. When I returned from the event, brimming with alcohol inspired pep, I dug back in and made a new version that was about a minute long. I listened in the morning, it wasn’t amazing, but it was kinda funny. Then Friday night while I was home alone, I remembered this neat thing people were doing circa 2008, where they’d take songs and slow them down 800%, creating surreal audio landscapes. Justin Bieber’s “Baby” was the flare that launched a thousand imitators, and it was a blast while it lasted. I thought about applying it to just DeLonge’s verse, and wondered how to do it in a technical sense. I got the software and tried it out, first 800% then 1600%. It clicked. The outcome was sorta haunting and, weirdly enough, probably more of the atmosphere the original song sought than it accomplished. I was tickled.

It’s no secret that I’m a big Neil Cicierega fan. I even know how to spell The Godfather of the Internet’s last name by now. Like I said, big fan. He’s an immensely talented and creative dude, and also embodies the kind of gonzo oddity I adore. One of his more well known shticks is his propensity for making mash ups with Smash Mouth’s “All Star”. They’re ridiculous, absurd but also intentionally jarring. Yesterday I was thinking to myself, what’s the opposite of Blink 182’s “Miss You”? Immediately Earth Wind and Fire’s “September” came to mind, a song that’s joy incarnate. There was no way the two tracks would fit together, which only made me want to force it more. In all my years of mash up fandom, I’d never made one of my own. Why not give it a whirl? I found an instrumental of “September” and started fucking around with it. Weirdly, it worked better than I thought. I hastily threw it all together, mixed it and put it out to friends. I was beyond chuffed. I’d actually made something for the sake of making something, nothing more. No necessity, just desire. And it was decent. Not perfect, but decent. I noticed little errors the more I listened, but it was fine, and that was good enough for me. It was done.

One of my friends was like “oh, that’s fun, but you should probably bring this down in the mix, try inserting some of these parts from the original” etc. I innately bristled. I didn’t see him making a mash up from scratch. Where did he get off throwing advice my way? I was the one who’d put myself out there and done something from my own provocation. Fuck this guy and his attitude. Then two seconds later I was like wait, fuck me. He’s right and I’m the one with the attitude. There is more that can be done here, and just because I’ve finished one version, that doesn’t mean I need to be done with it all. There’s nothing stopping me from going back and changing it, improving it. Nobody is waiting on me, expecting anything or even asking for it in the first place. To wit, NOBODY WANTS THIS, except maybe me. Maybe. This is entirely for me, and I deserve to put out something better, right?

Here’s the thing that I’ve always kind of known and never wanted to admit to myself. I’m intellectually lazy. It’s not that I’m not intelligent or talented, but I’m terrified of putting in hard work. It’s a common trait amongst gifted kids, but if you get used to things coming naturally and easy to you, the thought of trying becomes verboten. If something is difficult, clearly it’s not worth doing, right? This intellectual laziness has plagued my entire life. I’ve always taken the easy route, or rejected an outcome if it was reliant on grit. I can’t begin to fathom how many projects I’ve phoned in or half-arsed. Work I’ve submitted when I knew it wasn’t my best, but it was enough to make it seem like I’d gone all in. I hadn’t. In most cases, there was almost always more in the tank that I didn’t want to give. I saw it play out all through university and my work in radio. I’ve seen it most every day with this writing project, where I’ll get to 30 minutes and think well, I’ve done as much as I had to, let’s get the fuck out of here. So many abandoned pieces of writing that still had unexplored headroom. It’s exactly what’s held me back from comedy, just thinking about the re-writes, editing, and endless nights out workshopping to incrementally improve my content. It’s all been too much work, so I’ve done the bare minimum to avoid taking responsibility instead.

I don’t get to have an honest conversation about what I deserve without first acknowledging what I’m willing to do to get it. The two notions are inextricably tied. Whatever life I think I should be living, it’s something that I need to earn, and I’m not sure I’ve really even earned as much as I have. It all comes down to fear, of course. I’m afraid that maybe I’m really not all that talented. That if I do put in hard work, the outcome won’t be all that great. That deep down I’m not as creative as I think I am. That if I put my heart into my work, it’ll sink when I discover mediocrity all the way down. That the life I deserve, really, is less than what I’ve already got. I’ve arrived at where I am with the consistent pattern of not trying my best, so I always have an excuse in my back pocket. That if I don’t put in the hard work, I can always point to that potential reserve that’s been forever untouched. It’s easy to do nothing, and it’s also fruitless.

It’s not good enough anymore. I need to do more, because I need more in my life. I need to try, stumble, fail, and get back up. I need to take the time, put in the effort and earn my outcomes. As dumb as it sounds, I’m gonna go back and work on my stupid Blink 182 mash up because it represents more than just a silly idea. It’s a chance to try at something, and I’ve squandered enough of those for a lifetime.

It’s on my skin, it’s not getting under it

I have a problem.

Which, of course, is unnecessary roughness. I don’t have a problem, issue, or even really concern. I’m just hungry. I want to leave the house and grab a meal with a friend, but I’ve had no bites over the past hour so I’ve taken matters into my own hands and done nothing about it. I’m not as hungry as I should be by now, which is weird. It’s past 2pm and so far I’ve eaten a banana and small amounts of kimchi. I also had a coffee. So eating would be smart, going out to eat would be easy and doing it with a friend would be fun. It’s some kind of holy trifecta. But that hasn’t happened.

It’s not a problem, as such, because I have a lot of food here. I could make a sandwich, warm up some frozen soup, make a dish with eggs, or even set up some elaborate but simple instant pot meal if I so desired. It’d be easy enough to make turkey burgers, or a kimchi omelette, or a rack of ribs. None of it is out of the question, but it’s not precisely what I want right now, so I’ve done none of it. Instead I’ve bemoaned my lack of plans, when I didn’t make any effort to plan things out ahead of time. I think that’s just causality.

To be clear, my lack of plans don’t equate to a catastrophe. I had no plans last night and somehow managed to cobble together an enjoyable enough, quiet night. It’s gotten to the point where the local Chinese takeaway guy knows my name over the phone, so I gave him a call and sussed out some cheap and cheerful post gym dinner. I tucked in while playing a bunch of Magic. I watched the new dumb Netflix dating show, which basically seems to take Master of None‘s “First Date” episode and expanded it into a series. In the early hours of the morning, it kid of morphed into more or less navel gazing. What would I say in this situation? How would I react to these suitors? Would any be people I’d want to date? How are they using non-diegetic sound and editing to shape my views on who I like? What’s their angle? It was fun and stupid, pretty much ideal for a lazy Friday night. Any of the above could work just as well for a Saturday.

But I do want an excuse to leave these four walls. I’ve been sorta housebound because of this annoying rash. I don’t need to stay at my abode, but I feel less inclined towards being outwardly social. It’s not a massive imposition, but I feel gross and iffy. My skin is itchy. I’m not certain yet if there’s a direct correlation, but it seems like if parts of my body get too hot/sweaty, the rash grows more prominent there. I’m sure it’s really not that bad, but on a personal level it’s making me less inclined to go out and do stuff in case it gets really bad. I don’t actually know how it’d go, but I get the sense that if I went out dancing or something else active, I’d look all polka dot by the end of it. I want to be able to hide away if need be, and resignedly lather my body in lotion like I’m working in a harem or shaping myself up to be someone’s skin suit. You know what? They can have it, rash and all.

Fuck it. I’m making a sandwich.

Or rather, well cum?

When you’re in a long term relationship, you get used to a lot of things.

I’m in the bizarre situation (well, bizarre and new for me) where, for the first time in my life, I’ve been in a relationship for so long that all of my condoms expired. All of them. I don’t say “all” with limited candor either. I had a healthy amount of condoms. I didn’t get an exact count, but it would’ve been at least 60 or so. Thing was, they were expired, so I had a healthy amount of unhealthy condoms. I’m talking in past tense, because I threw them all out. Maybe this was a waste. Maybe I could’ve rented a tank of helium, invited a bunch of friends over and had a fun, safe, inflatable rave.

Well I fucked that one up.

I had a conundrum. I didn’t really know how to get condoms. Look, it wasn’t that stark. I understand that capitalism exists. I know that I can accrue moneys, visit a store and hand over my moneys in exchange for penis shaped balloons. I get this. I just didn’t know how to go about it on a conceptual and efficient level. The stumbling block is that I’m unwaveringly cheap, but I also enjoy nice things. Wait, that’s uncharitable. I’m thrifty. T H R I F T Y. I don’t like paying more for things than I think that they’re worth, but my notion of what things are worth is stuck back in the 90s. My relationship to capitalism hasn’t grown with inflation. That was only mildly meant to be a condom pun.

So no, I couldn’t just have gone out to one of the ten Shoppers at Bloor/Ossington and bought some Durex, because they’re shitty condoms. My standards are higher than that. A few years ago I spent a lot more time in sex positive spaces, so free condoms were abundant. I’m not hanging around those spaces as much these days. Back in NZ I’d just go to the sexual health clinic and pick up a ton. There are definitely a couple of clinics here, but it’s different. I feel like I’d need to make an appointment (which honestly isn’t a dumb thing to do. Better safe than… unsafe?). I know Hassle Free is around, but I’ve got this feeling that I don’t want to take time away from the usual clientelle who need that kind of safe space.

I have a condom I like. Kimono makes great ones that feel barely there. I just think they’re neat. They’re also expensive. If you go to a nice sex store you’re paying something like $20 for a 12 pack. I’m not trying to put a dollar value on a sexual experience, but that’s a lot. Or at least, I feel like there are more economically efficient ways to go about the whole thing. Amazon.com has a ton of bulk packs at a great price. Thing is, most of those places don’t ship to Canada. Amazon.ca has terrible prices, or rather they have similar prices to most places that probably have reasonable prices, but I have unreasonable expectations. So that was a no-go.

So I did what any capable snake person would do and hit up Google. I searched for a bunch of Canadian sex stores and condom specific outlets. It took a while. Most places had the same Amazon.ca prices, which as I said were no-go. Finally finally finally, I found a decent store. Good prices, free shipping, and I only recently got on paypal, so it made the whole transaction even easier. In short, this whole entry was an ad for Top Condoms Canada. If you’re in the very specific situation of requiring condoms because 60+ of yours have expired and you’re too cheap thrifty to pay full retail (or don’t have one of those fancy US mailbox things for Amazon.com purchases). Oh, and you’re living in Canada, then go to Top Condoms Canada for all of your condom needs.

But in saying that, I only checked out the Kimono, so I don’t know about their other brands.

YOU’RE WELCOME.

No rash decisions now

I feel weird. Maybe it’s because I drank more beer than I usually would on a Wednesday evening, got this insane idea to download the isolated vocals from Blink 182’s “Miss You” and see what I could do with them, then lacked in my normal amount of sleep because of everything mentioned above. Maybe it’s that. But it’s probably the mystery rash that suddenly appeared all over my body in the mid-morning. It’s probably that.

I have no idea why. I didn’t notice anything before work, but while I was at my regularly scheduled 10.30am bathroom break, I noticed a cluster of red dots. I looked to my other forearm. They were there too. I lifted up my shirt. Sure enough, dots all across my belly, around my hips. Am I concerned? Moderately. I think I’m more concerned than the situation requires. I don’t believe that I’m in any actual medical danger. I’m more concerned in the matter that something is happening to my body and it’s far outside of my expectations. It hasn’t gotten better since I discovered it, but I’m also not sure it’s gotten worse. I don’t feel like I have whatever support network I usually would, which is also more internally resonant than actually true. I’m absolutely sure that if I asked a friend for help, advice or even company, they’d oblige me. But I don’t want to reach out. Also, like, what if this is hella contagious? Then that’d make me recruiting friend help a pretty shitty thing to do.

I don’t know if I’m actually sick in some capacity. I’ve staved off Web MD as much as possible, because I don’t want to think it’s lupus just yet. Realistically, it’s probably an allergic reaction. There are tiny, slightly raised, red bumps all over my arms, torso and legs. I feel slightly itchy and fatigued, but concurrently I don’t know how much of this is psychosomatic. I didn’t feel itchy before I noticed the rash. Fatigue could be explained by any number of things. I didn’t sleep enough, I went to the gym yesterday. Maybe I’m just emotionally fatigued, and physical symptoms are hitching a ride. It’s likely just an allergic reaction to something. I’ve never had an allergic reaction before, thus my concern. Was it something I ate last night? An ingredient in the beer? Something in the new kimchi I bought? Who knows? Not me. Hopefully a doctor, ’cause that’s where I’m headed now. Thanks Canadian healthcare!

As for the aforementioned Blink 182 isolated vocal thingie, maybe it took a bunch of drinks to realise that while I’m sitting at my home computer, I have Pro Tools and can make dumb audio stuff whenever I want. So I downloaded the vocals, chopped and changed a bunch of stuff and turned an already weird, meme-ish and lacklustre song into all of those things, but in phone conversation form. I created a dialogue between the two sets of vocals, added some telephone SFX, did a little EQ-ing and had something stupid on my hands. And the internet. I listened this morning. It’s not *good* as such, but it’s silly and amusing, at least to me. Making something is usually better than making nothing, so in that respect it was a success. I’ll take it. I’ve had few enough of those lately. I haven’t really been prolific in anything but growing a rash. So maybe I’m on a roll here.

Perhaps I’ll play it for the doctor and see what they think about it. It could be symptomatic of something.

**** Update *****
She thinks it’s just a goddamn sweat rash. I got too sweaty, overheated and my pores blocked or something. Moisturise with something hypoallergenic and it should right itself in a week or two.