All Hallows

Hello and welcome to another rare edition of the MOGblog. I realized starting this at 1am is a bad idea, considering im working on about a total of like 8 hours sleep combined since wed, but hey I do this for you so expect some good rambling train of thought and maybe actually some pix. Remember when this blog used to have a lot of pix with my more frequent updates? Yeah, me too, but there is a reason for this, which I will explain to you right now. When I switched to Blackberry, yes i did this, I needed a BB that was specifically a worldphone, so I could call anywhere I was traveling. For some reason, the geniuses who make this piece of tech decided the world phone would have no camera. Who the hell knows why, now I must rely on others, usually Irene, to visually document my life, thus leading to constant HEY CAN YOU GIVE ME SOME PIX FOR THE BLOG nagging that she, and now Matt, hate. So no, it's not because I am ashamed of the beard, its because of the damn blackberry.

Speaking of tech, I have continued to push my ass further into what's hip with the kids and now, thanks to tutoring from Jessie, I am on Twitter. Now it's just all getting silly. Myspace. Check. Facebook. Check. Ichat. Check and now Twitter. You can even follow my updates on this very blog, thus giving you yet ANOTHER reason to come here. Anyhow, isn't there a way to combine this all into one thing? I can't even remember all the different fucking passwords. One of you fucking geniuses work this out for me, ok?

So here we are. We are here.

Tonight is Saturday night, a night of rest. But as per usual, my week, your year, no comparison of course. Why? How? Well mostly because on Thursday night YOU didn't get to roll with Matt Gentile Club Superstar Last Of The Famous International Playboys for drinks, beats and pizza. We hooked up late in the evening, and grabbed a quick pint at old Chemlab hangout Sidewalk Cafe on Ave A. From there we went to some basement to see Saintface do their Dossier thing through a PA that sounded like my first practice bass amp except with everything going through it. Dossier Teenage Riot. Anyhow, my fave singer, in action and goddammn give me more of the songs. They've been playing out a lot, hopefully to appreciative audiences. Matt and I grabbed our lawn chairs and free cider (this is not a joke) and watched a costumed and overloaded (soundwise) Dossier bring it.



Here are your reunited MOGpac heroes, in their lawnchairs:



After the usual tearful reunion with the Dossier lads, Club Superstar and I then really brought it hardcore and walked across the street to, of all places, Pyramid, so Matt could dance to Everyday is Halloween. Supposedly the old busboy or something is now the fucking DJ. How does this happen? Meanwhile, the tiny hispanic man spinning joy division was a 1000% better than any DJ I would see anywhere else this weekend, but more on that soon. It was quick, one drink, good songs, nothings changed, and we got the fuck out of there and had a nice 230am slice of pizza. No sleep for the weary. This evening had tons of suck potential and happily not a moment sucked. Lotta laughs. Good shit.

Despite having drinks, we knew our limits so Friday wasn't a painful experience. Plus, it's fucking Halloween, which doesn't interest me in the least beyond the under 10 set. However, for a certain Korean woman who lives here, Halloween is the be all and end all. This year, it was decided we would go to the Ghostly Records party with Irene's crew, which already for me are two positives. The third positive was Irene's realization after 5 years that I'm not making any effort towards dressing up. So, since she and the girls were going to be the Brides of Frankenstein, your hero would be Dr Frank Himself. Basically that means, throw a lab coat on. I can do that. We spent the early evening at Jessie's, where Irene cooked and got everyone in their make up and gear. Serious shit. She even made Roger look like Jules from pulp fiction. I napped on Jessie's really fucking comfortable couch, which helped a great deal. Then we went to the party which was at Studio B in BK. Decent place. Ok crowd, lots of room, which makes it a lot easier for me to deal with. All was going well until some douchebag, supposedly from the Rapture, came on and played an all Michael Jackson set This was not like oh lets play the old records, it was let's play new sped of stupid fucking remixes. And he didn't stop! This went on and on! And this dumbfuck is DRESSED as Jackson. Literally you could hear the life leave the venue. I wanted out. Irene tried hard to make me smile, but I wasn't having it. I almost slapped the guy when he was next to me at the bar. I had to be restrained. There are pix of this, but of course, Irene is asleep. I'll post that later. Anyway, here's some:




then it was 4am cheese fries at the Gramercy.

Anyway, lotta rest since. Some gym time and today, Sunday will be studio day, which I always look forward to. I will return Matt's favour to me of being my date for the Dossier gig by being his for the Sisters tomorrow night. Goth. Down The Block.

Eventually.

F