AND BRETT MARTIN SAYS...

2011-10-09T17:18:00.001-04:00

Go Jets Go. Again.

2011-04-13T20:40:00.001-04:00

Up-to-date News, Videos, Dates and wholly unreliable Legal Advice. brettmartincomic.com

2011-01-29T16:40:00.001-05:00

I always thought he was the man behind 9/11
http://ping.fm/9c7ig

2010-11-09T17:41:00.001-05:00

Free sample http://ping.fm/JdoWp

2010-10-22T17:35:00.001-04:00

New Videos
http://ping.fm/hwAYp
New Blogs
http://ping.fm/I8mr2

2010-10-17T04:49:00.001-04:00

Free booze in vernon. Life is grand.

2010-10-10T12:18:00.001-04:00

This machine kills hippies

2010-10-08T14:50:00.001-04:00

Mmmmm Mmmmm Mmmmm, thanks for the ritzy breakfast Crash Test Dummies. And no thanks to you, surly waitress.

2010-10-07T16:38:00.001-04:00

No word of a lie, wheel of fortune is on the radio here in saskatchewan. Its oddly compelling to boot

2010-10-06T19:10:00.001-04:00

I can text and drive rather well, thank you very mu

2010-10-06T13:26:00.001-04:00

Nascar hats and mullets aplenty. Hello Saskatchewan.

2010-10-06T10:57:00.001-04:00

Airport security is a F'n joke. Really, hold people up just to put toothpaste in a plastic baggy. That makes us safe? How dumb are we?

2010-10-06T10:13:00.001-04:00

Its far too early to be nice to people

2010-09-23T17:11:00.001-04:00

Great show tonight at Library Square. 10:00pm. Its Comedians You Should See, ComedyFest edition.
http://ping.fm/4B9cP

2010-09-16T21:47:00.001-04:00

Comedians You Should See, Vancouver ComedyFest Edition, September 23rd at Library Square http://ping.fm/GJKwA

2010-09-09T16:24:00.001-04:00

Night Clubs aren't for me - in joke
http://ping.fm/yU2eW

2010-09-07T22:13:00.001-04:00

Authority at work
http://ping.fm/DZdVS

2010-09-07T16:22:00.001-04:00

Dont forget that wearing white after labour day is punishable by death

2010-09-01T21:59:00.001-04:00

Guilt & Comedy at Guilt & Co. in Gastown tonight - 930. Come for the show, stay to mock the steam clock admirers afterwards

2010-09-01T17:18:00.001-04:00

New Video that's guaranteed to delight/offend- http://ping.fm/moQGQ

2010-09-01T15:54:00.001-04:00

You must really hate Mythbusters to attack the Discovery channel HQs

2010-08-30T18:41:00.001-04:00

In hindsight, the noonhour joint slowed me down

2009-08-24T22:52:00.000-04:00

Brett Martin ReBoot

2009-08-24T22:30:00.003-04:00

Hard to write with a cat on your lap, and entirely ungrateful to remove the beast. These are the obstacles that I have to overcome as a writer.

The sun is a cream white through the buildings over the ocean. This, too, is an obstacle. It looks much more fun to be in the sun on the water than write about it. But I suppose the point is there is no point, and it's best to accept and move om.
Luckily now the sun has faded, quick as that, and this writing thing becomes more enticing.

While reflecting on the past, I find the challenge is to remain aware of the present. Balancing act for sure.

OK. But there was a point to all this, was there not? The creativity in me needs to be released. Good possibility the retention of this lead to early hair loss. I will write, I will grow hair. I will write, I will grow hair.

I will grow hair and stand tall. I will be able to slam dunk. My vertical will increase by a foot and a half. I will touch my toes outside of the shower. I will move a mountain and face fearless a hurricane and laugh at it's eye. Then I'll head inside a concrete building.

I am a Stand Up Comic if anyone is out there. There's many posts in here and more about to come.

I travel Canada as a Comic. I headline clubs and colleges. I'm not yet on television, but I am XM Radio. I don't play by any rules, I'm simply myself and allow the dominoes to fall as they may.

This is my adventure. This is my journey. This is for sharing.

I am begining what you might call a talk show on Sunday, August 30th in Vancouver at The Backstage Lounge at 9:00.

But this isn't advertising.

And the journey begins...

Barbeque before round four. -somehow richard's pictures enede up brett's blog, which i seem to be writing on now. i realize he left it open on my comp

2008-07-07T04:27:00.004-04:00

Almost Two Years Later

2008-02-15T01:28:00.003-05:00

Some as of yet unknown to me Vancouver Website people found this site that I had long forgotten about. Reminds me to write. Thanks, whoever found this.

I'm at the moment pissed off. I am a professional Comic who is a complete unknown in his own town. Stand-Up is my only job, yet I make all my money away from home. This is a really shitty situation. Guess I have to change it.

I have the same woman and now I have two cats. I go to the gym and smoke less. I read less and write infrequently. I spend my days checking e-mail and looking at sport stats. I don't use fluoride because it's a terrible thing to put in your body. I recycle expect for when I'm tired or depressed.

I don't like the majority of young woman I meet, which works, because they quite dislike me. I don't like overtly straight or gay people. Your sexuality is boring and dull to me. I find it funny that someone blew up a taco stand.

I support the Olympics and feel that drug addiction is a choice. I don't believe in religion or politics or countries. I have never seen a border but I have seen people who believe in them. I don't like public transit and hate direct eye contact with people on the bus.

I eat meat and love animals. Did I mention I have two cats? I won't eat them. I would buy multiples a shirt I like. I don't respect authority or 'the uniform'. I respect people who think and act for themselves. Selfishness is not as selfish as it seems.

I like hockey and football and baseball and think Ultimate Fighting for people who have issues with anger. I don't drink much these days but I inhale cigars because I am a strong, classy man.

I am not popular and view the pursuit of it as weakness. I haven't been in a fight since grade 8 and would like to keep it that way. That said, I would argue with anybody at anytime. I see it as sport.

I never say never and don't feel like writing anymore.

It Means They Just Nod Along Anyways

2006-09-23T01:18:00.000-04:00

I'm listening to 'In Utero' right now. It's Nirvana's last album. Great music and so very full of passion, life and fury. You will never hear this music played in an office simply because it would be impossible for any of the workers to remain working. The power and the energy that pulsates from the speakers would simply not allow a person to continue to sit and plow away. The purity of the spirit of it all would too easily distract the worker, causing them to demand the music be silenced. They would play it off as noise and distraction, but they would know, if only they could look inside, that the real reason it bothered them so is because it was far more real than anything they'd ever done. It was no mistake that the bands name was Nirvana.

I listen to Nirvana whenever I remember to. It's hard to stay at that level all the time. Sometimes you just want to feel the wind in your hair. Oasis will suffice for that. Nirvana brings something primal up from within. An unapolegetic assault on your inner deceptions. Listen if you dare and see where you stand.

I'm listening to Nirvana tonight because I needed something real. The television was on all night and I can't do it anymore. The girlfriend - she can watch it. She was happy to watch a family King-Fu action movie tonight. I suppose it has it's merits, but a pimp would argue the same things in regards to himself. It wasn't as if she wanted to watch a Family Kung-Fu Action movie. First, she was tired. Tired television viewers are often television viewers because they are exhausted and wish not to do anything anymore, thinking included. It is this state that television makers have become billionaire's off of. They are the 'I don't want to think anymore' substitute delivery system. Turn off your mind and turn on the Television. It's almost nine-thirty and Celebrity Duets is on - believe me, you won't have to think at all....

It seems to me that television may be the disease that is killing us all. THE root of all evil. It's images and input sour our minds with facts that aren't necessarily true; Fills our homes with information that is not informative. It gives us Celebrity Duets and Entertainment Tonight, both shows which, along with many more of its kind, are nothing short of a psychic diahrettic polluting the intellectual well-being of our entire species quite negatively. Don't get me wrong - Patti Labelle and Carlton from 'Fresh Prince of Bel-Air' singing 'Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head' is an artistic achievement that would likely make Da Vinci shake his fist in jealousy. I drool in awe. Perhaps I drool in boredom.

September 11th was as much as a 'Made For Television' special as any Hallmark movie. It still is. Every year, specials air, re-living the horror for us all. Time may heal all wounds, but don't forget television is in the business of keeping all cuts fresh.

Wait - how did I get here? Wasn't I writing about Nirvana? Sometimes I get on a point, you know, and I want to roll. Then, I find, I usually start over-writing. That's why I like doing Stand-Up. When I get bored of a subject, rather than waxing on pseudo-intellectually, I usually make fun of someone for being something that isn't really shameful, we all laugh at the absurdity of it all, and I move on, as I had to there. My heart ran out of care for TV. Essentially, I hate it, and so should you, until I get my own show - then you should love it and buy all the products that the TV tells you to buy during my program.

I think the only way to make Nirvana-like expression is to throw it all against the wall and forget to care if it sticks or not. It's not the point. It doesn't even matter if you're in the room when it hits the wall. You just throw it - and that, THAT, is the art. You can do that, or you can grab one of the actors from Grey's Anatomy and dance a jig with them. Both of these qualify as genius art, I say.

Kurt's singing 'What is Wrong With Me' now. In a loop. I would have told him nothing. Too bad he's not alive now. I'd call him - we'd do a celebrity duet. I'd have to get famous first. Lose 30 pounds and the desire to be myself. No sweat. I'd be popular! We'd sing 'In Bloom'. Everybody would cheer.

What does it all mean? I'm starting to vibrate at that level that won't let me sit still. Might be some form of epilepsy - one can never be too sure. All I know is I'm missing a world full of passion and truth. From what I've heard, seems it's never been in full stock. Make a difference, the inside voice urges. You can ignite them, it hints. I want it to quiet down now; that sitcom star is about to dance.

And did you really think that was it?......

2006-09-22T03:09:00.000-04:00

It's a diffirent world now.

It's 1:04 am - and that's late. I 'snuck' out of bed, totally unable to sleep. Even though I was down and out, I got up. The ten count was too slow and I got tired of hearing the numbers. It seems something in me is still alive. Something in me wasn't killed after all. The overhaul somehow left something in tact. As it turns out, Brett Martin, whatever that means, is far from dead.

I was going about my days in normal enough fashion. As I lay thinking, or stood walking or just happened to be and looking ahead, something from behind grabbed me, telling me to listen up, that I wasn't as lost as I thought I was. I knew it was there all along, but I suspected wholly that it was on it's last legs, and I wasn't gonna bring in life-support to keep it propped up. The skin had shed and I thought it was phantom pains. I was walking this way, dammit, and didn't need any distractions or riff-raff going my way. Silence, all, fate was this way and damn be my name if I wouldn't heed it's call. The voice would be silenced soon enough.

I stood at entrances to parking lots, telling cars you can or can't park there, and no, I can't take your money. I carried medical equipment to people who were partied to the nines on Lysol. I put on a logo'd shirt and played music with a cell phone. I did it all. I paid my bills. I ceased to smoke. I dropped the pot as well as the pop. I tamed the rage and stopped listening to it, too. I put on sneakers and sandals and got them wet in the river. I stayed alive, was up by five and smiled a smile of 'have to'.

It was all going in whatever dirfection that it was going in until one day, and I don't know which day it was. But what a day it was. I was working my most recent job. I was selling computers, in a way. It's a long story for another day, but when that story is told, it will not be one of glee, joy and sales. It will depict a man who had, besides love, lost it all, and was at the one-cent slots of life, just trying to get enough wins for more spins. The man who had once seen action at the biggest, glitziest no-limit tables in his world was reduced to playing for pride and pennies.

Then the day came, whatever day it was, where the satisfaction of a life well lived had ceased, and in it's place a sad realization that I was going through the motions - at best. What was once a existence based on pushing the limts of myself and, potentially, so many others, became a bill paying ritual aimed at staying afloat in an endless ocean sucked dry of hope.

I didn't really know, at that point, what was wrong. I finished the contract, had a big cheque coming my way, and that's that. Why the feeling?

The feeling is because I am not dead, but had been living as if my spirit was. In making the changes in my life, I had erased from myself that which I identified myself as, and simply went about my days being an honorable citizen trying to make ends meet. Problem is, I've never wanted to be an honorable citizen. I wanted to do something extraordinary, and as best I know, bill paying and all-in-all subordinating is the furtherst thing from that. I want to break the mold.

So, what awoke in me, and what kept me awake, both tonight and in life? That thing within all of us that is bigger and truer than what we do. It is the light which attracts the moths that are the events of our life to us. That thing that, no matter which it is dressed in, is still indeed IT.

I stripped myself bare of what I knew myself to be only to find out I was more what I thought I was that I could ever have imagined. Bills still need to be paid and feet still want to get wet, but after several months of being the walking dead, it turns out the answer is I am so very much alive.

What in Heavens....

2006-08-02T01:56:00.000-04:00

I just checked out my ol' Blog, and I found an Ad for a Christian sight. The Christ-folk must be depserate for souls. That, or the fact that I may be Jesus is starting to leak out.

Hi, again!

The Real Resume

2006-08-02T01:51:00.000-04:00

I recently finished 10 days of work at the Calgary Stampede. I am happy to be finished with it. Although I have spent the majority if my time in recent years hitting the road and the many stages as a Stand-Up Comedian, I have been (un)fortunate enough to have experienced a varying array of jobs in a plethora of fields. What is the point of going through the pain of all of these if I can’t look back and share the experiences?

I always thought it would be nice if people told the truth when they compiled their job experiences, so, in this spirit, I bring to you my REAL resume in attempted chronological order.

McDonalds: I was 15 or 16 and it was my first job. I was hired on New Years Eve much to my chagrin. My parents, on the other hand, were ecstatic to have me making my own money. I was mortified that the Gravy Train had de-railed in front of the Golden Arches.

It wasn’t long, though, before I learned that this job was a good thing. In school and life in general at that point, I found I had the ability to find the disenfranchised and bring them together to rally against the forces of power and conformity. This ability often led me to trouble. Serendipitously, at McDonalds, I was united with two fellow anti-authoritarians, Wayne and Andrew, two of the craziest people I’ve been lucky to meet. We, together, realized that if we did our jobs, the forces that were would be powerless to stop our troublesome ways. We ‘freed’ the mind of an Afghani Immigrant to fight against the command structure of McDonalds. We got honour-roll students who worked for nothing more than life experience to insubordinate and feel alive.

We pranked our way around and had fun. A favourite was to pour water in the Drive-Thru lane during winter, making an ice-field that cars were unable to stop on. It was good laughs and good times. Sadly, ‘Upper’ Management was attempting feverishly to remove us, (rightly) suspecting us to be cancer spreading through the restaurant; problem was they had nothing on us. We knew were the cameras were, we knew our allies and we knew our enemies. One ally was Darryl, our psychic manager who knew our troublesome ways via his uncanny sixth sense. He was a good man who knew we, at least, did our jobs between pranks and revolutionary tactics. He always looked the other way as long as the fries were crispy.

A lesson to all – of you want to break the rules, you must first play by them. That, and ‘Clean as You Go’ were two skills I leaned at McDonalds and ply to this day. Eventually, Wayne was sent on his Mormon Mission, and Andrew and I were weakened as a result. The Psychic manager left and the Power Brokers were zeroing in on us. They gave us less shifts and never again did Andrew and I work together. It was at that point I realized my calling was not to destroy McDonalds from within. No, I was to destroy something much bigger, and I decided to quit. Andrew left, too, and continued his ways on his journey. I anticipate we will meet again and bring down that which our destiny calls us to end. After a year and a half, McDonalds was over, and I was off to a new challenge.

More to come, as I discuss such important employment experiences such as Wal-Mart and the the job I quit just so I could go do a show in Red Deer.

Vs. Nature

2006-06-29T20:23:00.000-04:00

The newscasts are reporting that there will be record swarms of Mosquitoes in the city this year, raising disease fears and levels of itch. Up North, there was an enormous cloud of moths that created, surprisingly, thousands of dollars of damage to store properties. Earlier in the month, rain fell for a week straight, flooding basements and damaging gardens.

If you’re like me, and all your neighbours, (which is very important), you’ve had enough. For too long, forces beyond our control have wrecked havoc on that which we have worked hard to create. Our Earthly ‘Mother’ has sought to destroy miles of beach WE have spent years grooming. Nature has selfishly acted on her whims without consulting us humans, the alpha of existence. Ever so ignorantly, nature has acted not on OUR interests. It’s time to stand up. It’s time to say no. It’s time for a War on Nature. The time has come for Nature to be stopped.

We, as humans, deserve reliable climate and temperatures. We deserve no bugs, no hurricanes and no drought. Nature does not comply with this request. Does it care that it rains on our picnics? It does not, which proves that Nature is a psychopath. Nature is a complete and utter sociopath that thinks of nothing but itself. For years and years, nature has ruled with complete autonomy this planet named Earth. As hosts and CEO’s of Earth, it is finally time to rise up. We have lulled nature into a false sense of security. It has its back turned. The time to rise is now.

As if facts are needed, there also happens to be an ethical air-tight case against it. Nature’s belief system is paradoxically opposite to ours, which is, of course, wrong. Natures’ wisdom is based on ‘currents’ and ‘pressure’ and ‘flow’. Ours, the correct one, is, of course, based on the most correct and ethical of values, ‘Money’ and ‘Status’. These are the pillars of greatness on which we stand and, these, the stakes that we shall burn Nature on. Nature’s inability to understand these values will be its downfall.

Nature IS. This is, of course, also wrong. The correct way to be, obviously, is DECORATED. A task unacknowledged is not a task – it is a waste of time. Only those with medals are successful. This is fact. Where, I ask, are Nature’s ribbons? Show me the Trophy which Nature earned for its ‘Tropical Depressions’! There are none, because Nature is a Loser – a Loser we will stop.

It is recommended we sport a unified effort in order to stop it. It is noted with elation the escalating rise of SUV’s. This tactic is brilliant! We will drain Nature of its resources and fog its atmosphere further. It is with great pride I salute all humans for driving these environment killers – although I am sure my words hail in comparison to the pride you surely ‘sport’ in your decorated Nature assassins.

In conclusion, the greatest threat our species has ever confronted is everywhere. It is uncontrollable and unpredictable. It is in your backyard and mine. The War on Nature will not be an easy battle, nor will victory be guaranteed. A special, unified effort is needed to ensure victory. Questioning the efforts will only serve to strengthen Nature’s allies – wind, fire and water. All must be stopped. All will. Godspeed, Humans, and never forget this world is ours

Bio

2006-05-05T15:08:00.000-04:00

Brett Martin is making a mark on Canadian Stand-Up Comedy. His resume is extensive and now he’s starting to make a name for himself. He has headlined across the Country as well as at The Rocky Mountain Comedy Festival and The Calgary Comedy Festival. He also had an impressive performance at ‘The Comedy Store’ in London, England.

Brett Martin can now be heard on ‘Laff Attack’ on XM Satellite Radio. London, New York, Toronto and Montreal among the hundreds of places he performed. He has also appeared at countless College and Universities across Canada.

Brett Martin has a style of his own, a unique manner of comedy that has matured, but not mellowed. When you combine the incredibly funny, inventive manner in which he delivers his comedy with his compulsive need to speak into a microphone, it's no small wonder that he is as funny as he is. The future is very bright for this already veteran comedian who is still in his mid-twenties.

The Reviews are in:

Greg, Ottawa
“Saw you in Ottawa - BRILLIANT! I've seen comedians on TV that weren't even half as good as your show! Keep it up - it was f*ckin' funny!! Cheers!”

Purdy, Ontario
“I'm a hard-core comedy club junky (hit 3 in LA in one night) and I keep this mental list of "ones to watch" - you're on the top of my list baby!”

It Keeps Going....

2006-05-03T16:46:00.000-04:00

The descent or ascent, depending on your perspective, continues. I ended my working relationship with Yuk Yuks after some seven years of affiliation. It was on good terms and I leave with a good relationship in tow. Still, pleasentries and well-wishes to not ease a tough path. I have a hard road ahead - it's up to me to drive it. I can just as easily veer off the edge.

This continues what has become a bizarre time in my life where major changes and unplanned occurrences have been the norm. Predictability and normality have long since been casualties of the path I'm traveling.

There is an enormous amount of work to do, but he outlook remains positive. In the interim, I can be seen performing at the FunnyFest, the Calgary Comedy Festival. At Months end, you can catch me in my first theater show in Saskatoon. I will be joined by some of Canada's funniest comedians under 30 years of age. In fact, I think we're all 26. I am in negotiations to perform in another festival beginning in June. There are clubs around the country whom I have contacts with and will be working with within the coming months. I am the pimp of Brett Martin now. Gotta go make some money for the rent.

Most of all, my back is up against the fucking wall, and make no mistake - I feel it. I can crash and burn. I can become nothing. Nobody is out to help me. I am in the place I almost feel most comfortable - behind the eight ball. Funny - all I had to do to rediscover my edge and chutzpah was to throw away all that gave me a leg up. The Piss, vinegar and determination are back. It's all I have to rely on.

The goal remains the same.....

Names and Accusations - Yummy!

2006-04-28T03:33:00.000-04:00

In my last post, I mentioned 'naming names'. It stuck in my head. I realize nobody does this anymore. Direct finger-pointing has become passe. Innuendo and suggestions is as near as it seems to get. Nobody owns up to things or flat-out accuses anymore. Fear of legal action, fear of rejection, fear of feather ruffling, fear of being wrong - they may all be factors. But, I don't so much care. Names should be named. Faces should be shown. For good OR bad. I think the world needs more finger-pointing, if only to spark debate. So, I present 'Naming Names and Showing Faces'.

Name: Sammy's Deli.
Location - Calgary.

This place - Sammy's Deli on 17th ave in Calgary is on the name list because it's food sucks. It came highly recommended and upon checking it out, I have determined it's food was garbage. I ordered a Chicken Shawarma. It was awful. It was so bad, I found myself thinking, 'Hey, I could make this'. That's a bad deli. If I can outcook a pro establishment, that establishment shoud look into becoming a dollar store or pawn shop. Get the fuck out of my city with that crap food. Sammy's Deli - you suck balls. I like to think of myself of as something of an intellectual with certain achievements of mine backing that statement, and with that in mind, saying you suck balls at food making is the most accurate statement I can make. Sammy's Deli bad.

I'm really tired and can't think of many more. I was laying in bed and couldn't sleep. I really was thinking about how bad the Shawarma was. Maybe this has nothing to do with name naming so much as it does insomnia and old chicken. I can't sleep and my writing is slipping.

Name: Brett Martin
Location: Depends on your perspective

My trouble with this guy is he takes a lot of shit. I know for a fact that there are several people he would like to eviscerate with his wit and mouth, yet he won't. He seems to hold himself back. But he's changing back, you know. He's getting pretty fed up. I knew him when he had fire in his soul and intensity in his eyes. He has softened and admittedly become a happier man. Good for him. But I see him as half-speed at the moment. He sucks now, but I know of no man who does what he does when he does it. He also speaks frequently in the third person and that has to stop.

Name: Ron from Saskatoon
Location: Saskatoon

I'm upset that I forgot this guys last name, but not surprised because I lack the respect for him to be able to. He runs the Comedy Room in town. He's also a manager at the hotel. I cannot judge him as a man outside of the comedy room because I do not know him. I do know he can kiss my ass. I had three bottles thrown at me in his room and he did not apologize to me. That's low, brothers and sisters. If you are in my house and you happen to burn yourself in warm tap water, I will show concern and offer assistance. He dealt with me as if it was my fault. Granted, I did have on my 'hey fuckers, why don't you throw three bottles of beer at my face and ruin an evening for people who are sober and came to the show' t-shirt on, but that's no reason to be a pompous dick. He gave me a cold-shoulder that not even a loved one could give. What should I expect, really. I should have just been humbled to be in the presence and share in the aura of the great food and beverage manager/comic liaison in Central Saskatchewan, Canada.

Name: My Mom
Location: Mothers pedestal

She went to Califonria and brought me back the new 'Eagles of Death Metal' CD. The album name is 'Death by Sexy'. When your mom brings you back a gift like that, that's a name happily WORTH naming. For Mothers day I shall burn her a copy of the album.

Name: God/Eternal Life Force
Location: Heaven, Outer Space or Israel

Big Ups, Lordy - you made the list. A lot of people seem to be doing bad things in your name. Now, I'm calling you out, big guy. You gotta set the record straight. Let them know there is only ONE God. ONE source of life. Anybody who thinks that their God is the only God - you gotta smite them good! I'm tired of the news always being full of religious strife. Help us out, here, Life Force of the Universe. Also please help the Flames win the Stanley Cup. Besides, you know anybody who cheers for Ottawa is an infidel.

I'm tired. Cigarette then bed. Click click, reader - you don't want me to name you and call you out, do you?......

Lacking Humor With A Pinch Of Wit

2006-04-25T21:41:00.000-04:00

We have this bizarre Criminal Law in Canada called the Young Offenders Act. Amongst several odd rulings within is one in which the accused, if under the age of 18, cannot be named in the media.

There was this Triple Murder in Medicine Hat, a small city in Southern Alberta. A mother, a father and a young son were killed. Missing was a 12 year old daughter. Her name an picture spread everywhere as the Police desperately sought her to ensure her safety and ask her some questions.

Two days later, an arrest is made in Saskatchewan. A 23 year old man and his 12 year old girlfriend were arrested in connection with the murders. Coincidentally, the hunt for the 12 year old daughter ceased, as police announced she was found 'in safe surroundings'. No more questions, please.

In case you are extremely retarded, I will inform you that the daughter is the one arrested. I hope I am not breaking any news to those of you who know the case. An asinine law has prevented the police from announcing what a mongoloid can figure out - two plus two equals four.

I know this becuase I am moderately intelligent. For one, in murder, it tends always to be someone close to the victim. Secondly, when the police announce the name, age and picture of a person, and then arrest somebody matching the description, and the cease to speak of 'either' girl, well, that's when you know the Mounties got their man, or in this case, their adolescent.

I'm sure, though, that somewhere in a prison cell in South Alberta, a young, orpahned girl sits, thanking her lucky stars that the media can't publish what a simpleton can add up; and not so far in Ottawa, a government official can sleep easier knowing he outiwtted us all by hiding names.

If there is a moral of this story, it's name names and take pictures and spread their faces all over the news. Nothing can scare potential young murderers like a bad picture of them on the front page of the news.

The Shingles Chronicles

2006-04-21T12:27:00.000-04:00

It's been awhile. I have Shingles. Sentences, like periods of mental health, are short....

Yes - I am a 26 year old man and I have shingles. Shingles, apparently, is a re-occurrence of the Chicken Pox virus. It is triggered by stress and anxiety, two things I have in spades. I've always been a bit of a stress case, but this caught me off-guard and has caused me to slow down and take a deep breath. How is it, at 26, that I am suffering from yet another stress-related malady? It has caused me to re-think many of my habits and purchase many vitamins. The way I'm seeing it now is if I am 26 and stressing out, how will I be when I'm 40, IF I become 40. Shingles are as thought provoking as they are itchy and sore.

I took two weeks off stand-up. I still may do an open mike to jam some ideas, but the illness got very much the best of me and I wish to slow it down. I think different things will help to cure me of this. More plants in the apartment. Goodbye cola, hello juice. Au revoir chips, bonjour yogurt. As I near my rockstar birthday of 27, it looks like my life is headed in oh, such a different direction.

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Flames Play-offs start today. My pre-season pick, if you'll remember, was Calgary vs Montreal. I stand by it more for pride than I do accuracy. If I had a gun to my head, I'd say San Jose vs Buffalo. But, then I'd also say Calgary looks good. Either way, I see it as a fortunate time to have shingles and be somewhat house bound.

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I just got back from Lethbridge. I went the day I was diagnosed with Shingles. I can tell I am aging because I am no longer excited to go to Lethbridge. I cannot pretend that Lethbridge is 'neat' anymore. It is not and I am not pleased to be there. There is something about playing an 'authentic' Irish Pub in Lethbridge, Alberta, that just seems to take all the glory and glamour out of my job as comedian. It is rather humbling to know that perhaps a quarter of the audience is there to play Golden Tee video games and there just happens to be some comedy for them to over-hear. The time in my youth where I viewed this job as a whimsical is now gone. I see it very practically now. You can file Cranbrook in the same file as Lethbridge.

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I need a couch and loveseat. If you have one, please let me know and feel more than free to give it to me. After all, it is better to give than to receive.

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Also feel free to donate your Calgary Flames Playoff tickets to me. I will accept that graciously. Shingles does allow for hockey games.

I'll be back and write more.......

More Pictures

2006-04-11T15:11:00.000-04:00

Here are some pictures. They are rather random, with the majority coming from my weekend in Kelowna. You will se Canada Geese, me chasing Canada Geese, me jumping in apparant joy as I try to make ripples from the dock in the water, me sleeping with my old cat, mountains, and Lake Louise in the Winter. Literature to come....

By The Way.....

2006-04-06T02:21:00.000-04:00

If you live in Kelowna, I'll be co-headlining your Yuk Yuks this weekend.

Any Calgarians wanting to see me can see me be the host at the Yuk Yuks in town. Come see me tell people with birthdays that nice as it is, I don't actually care as a human about it.

Should you reside in Cranbrook, I'll return to your fair city for the fourteenth or so time to headline your local Yuk Yuks next Fiday and Saturday, April 14th and 15th.

And finally, should you live in Lethbridge, come down to the Yuk Yuks night and see me headline your Comedy Club/Irish Pub. It will be a night of great comedy and even better Mormon jokes.

I also play Dickens in downtown Calgary pretty much every Monday. Fun place to chit chat in the funny code.

I don't know where I am in May. Book me and have me play your corporate event, or have me host your local AA meeting. Why not book Brett Martin as your 'Wake' entertainment. Face it - dead people really bring a room down. Book Brett Martin you're frown wil be turned upside down! Need a Funeral speaker, too? I'm willing to do interviews with family and 'friends' to get the real story on the dead guy and wrap his whole life up nicely in a touching/'edgy'/fresh/spiritual 15 minute speech/act. Only $200 more books you great opener!

Have me in to MC your baptism. My BABTISMMC package offers the holiest water-bucket of laughs on the circuit. I'll even find out who's in from out of town! Yours for $440 plus commission to my agents.

More dates to come....

Adjusting to Home and Looking for Nickels

2006-04-06T01:44:00.000-04:00

I just noticed a disturbing trend. I found myself looking at my add revenues before I'd think to write something. Why do I get like that? Sort of means to me that I should stop thinking about money and start thinking about ideas. Besides, the ideas I'm picthing ain't making me anything......

I am finished with the process of moving, and am now currently mired in the process of getting settled - for now. The space is nice. Having a lease is a new thing for me and I am heaving to work to get it through my thick head that I have a home to, well, be at home in.....

Funny how much plants add to place. The girlfriend and I have been shopping and bought muchl; but, nost noticably, plants. I have learned they don't like to be near fires, which I assume is a truth for most species. They bring alot of life into a home. Wall stuff and places to sit will follow....

I wonder if anybody clicked on my ads at this moment and made me a quarter.....

Got Cable today. Forgot that TV sucks. I still watch it, though, oddly enough. Even a TV News Scientist was saying kids under the age of 2 shouldn't watch it. That's not a good sign. Nor is it good for the sponsors of the show. They're gonna get pissed if some guy on the TV show they're paying for says not to watch it, and then they'll probably kill him with a bullet, messily - to the head. Don't fuck with the TV people, I'm telling you.....

Thoughts are soaked with fatigue. Moving is tough work. Makes the grind seem easy. I imagine with internet in home now, I may be writing more. And hopefully making more. Wonder if an ad was just clicked....

Ottawa - Fin

2006-03-26T02:17:00.000-05:00

Ottawa, as work, is over now. I am done the weekend. I end on a high note. The first show was full of old people with old brains and unfun people. I had to ask a gentlemen in the front row to look me in the eyes....they were THAT sort of audience. If you were at that show - I really didn't have any fun, either. But I've learned to fake it - haha! The owner/agent/manager though I was a tad sweary, which was true, and seemed to agree it was not 'my crowd'.

Second show was top-notch, easily my favorite of the week. It also included my favorite on-the-spot line in somtime: "You gotta love the morbidly obsese because they don't love themselves". I was simply having fun and haven't felt it like that since, well, the last time I worked. Oddly enough, even though I thought it was my best of the week, I handed out the least amount of blog ad-cards. I was rather obsessed with handing those things away. Many people aged 50+ took them and actually liked me. Weird. Maybe I have a future in cruise ship comedy.

All in all, it was/is very nice to get back 'to it'. My life has changed in so very many ways of late, and it's nice to get back to the stage. I'm still learning to incorporate my new world up to the stage, and time shall grant that. The boss says he'll have me back, which is all you can really the best thing toaccomplish from a week, so it ends well.

As a Human, Being, it was a good weekend, too. I saw parliament. It was fun. I saw the House of Commons, the Senate an annoying tour guide. He spoke in such granduer that I was curious if he imagines us to be the Christ-child. No thing is as epic as he made the government building to be. It was ridiculous. He spoke of his desire to be a politician, which triggered my competive juices. I think his name is Dave, and he, too, is from Winnipeg. Don't vote for him - he molests cattle. Vote Brett.

Now I have an hour and a half until I leave for the airport, which is four in the morning, and back to Calgary to move into my apartment - and finally, a home. Clicky clicky!! Good-bye from my trusty hotel-room in a supposedly haunted hotel.

Ottawa Continues

2006-03-25T13:49:00.000-05:00

The pimping continues. I'm pushing rather hard for people to check this site out. I understand now why it's hard out there for a pimp. After my show, I now stand at the door and greet people and hand them a card. It's always amusing to see somebody just stare straight ahead in mild discontent. I just say "Guess I offended you" and keep pushing the goods.

The show last night was ok. No real highlights. I think I got my morbidly obsese people joke down pretty good, which I am happy with, because I wish to end their joke immunity. I was also quite happy with a local joke I made. You see, in front of parliament, here is a statue of a guy who fell into the Ottawa River. Said something about how he was heroically trying to save somebody, but he drowned, too. So, I said I expected to see a statue of a guy with his head stuck in banister and a sculpture of a dude slamming is hand in the car door. The people reacted lukewarmly. Perhaps River Man is something of a local hero and I am ignorantly mocking him, which luckily I am happy to do.

I wandered around some more here yesterday. I went to Parliament, but it was closed. After this, I'm going to go again. Parliament is a very nice building. It's surprising you can actually go inside. Security is just different here, and I'm ok with that. I just walked right in - past mounties and people who work there. I wasn't stopped until I got inside...THEN - I was told it's closed. Seemed like I could just walk into Stephen Harpers' office and ask him for some of that free government money.

After the show, the head honchos took the other comic and I to bar called Oz. It is a tapas and wine bar. I was a little hesitant, due partly to the fact that me and classy joints don't mix well. Much to my girlfriends' chagrin, I am a pizza and hockey man (remember - Gabriels' suck, as do the Sens) and the concept of a classy establishment is usually met with skepticism and ire. But I was wrong. It was nice. I ate Soy Bean and lettuce wrapped sprouts and steak. It was healthy and tasty, which I find to be as rare a combination as 'drunk' and 'prudent action'. I am being treated well here in Ottawa.

Now it's time to go back into Parliament and get some of that free Government money. My time in Quebec lingers in the psyche.

Ottawa So Far

2006-03-24T14:12:00.000-05:00

Last night was fun. I was very tired but still was able to get some funny going. I handed out promotional cards for thisblog for the first time, and it so happens one of the people I was 'bugging' onstage already contacted me. Who knew promotion works? Thanks, Mike, glad you enjoyed the show - click on the ads! I need the moola.

The audience was weird. Very groany at things that were not groan-worthy. I thought I was very clean, minus saying 'fuck' alot. But, I was tired. I got an hour and ahalf of sleep that day. Not alot. Today I am rested, but have still yet to leave the hotel. I was awoken at around 9:00 by the maid. I was so tired last night I put out the 'Please clean my room' sign, rather than that standard 'leave me the hell alone' one. I was so groggy I thought I was at home and that she was my girlfriend, which was even more weird since she's not Mexican. Good thing I didn't ask her to cuddle.

Today I guess I'll go sight-see. I'm about five minutes from Parliament Hill. I walked by it yesterday. Seems pretty nice. I didn't see Stephen Harper anywhere. If I do, I'm going to ask him help me get an American Visa. I figure he should help out one of his Calgary bretheren.

The club is nice. It's in a basment, which I always like for Clubs. I don't really know the guys I'm working with, but my mind is open for friendliness. The Hotel is great, I have wireless in my room. The pizza I ordered last night was shit, though. If you live in Ottawa, do not order from Gabriels Pizza. Tastes like it was either made by childern of of children. Gross. The Indian buffet I had was far better.

So, of to adventure Ottawa, with another show tonight. Goal: See Parliament. Likely to do: go to HMV.

Not Everything I Do Is Dickens...

2006-03-23T15:14:00.000-05:00

I'm Thirty-thousand feet above Ontario now, on top of Sault Ste. Marie. I'm flying to Ottawa. Never been. Somewhat excited. I'd prefer to be sleeping right now but I find sleep a little difficult to come by on an airplane. I lucked in and got an emergency row seat, which means extra leg room for my six-foot-two plus frame. Usually I have to sit in the middle seat stuck between two strangers, who aren't typically my favorite types of people, anyways. Ad two cups of strangers and a dash of no wiggle room and you usually get a very pissy me. Now, I have room to move, an empty seat beside me and a laptop with dying battery.

They have a TV in the seat back for you to 'enjoy' as you travel. Fox News is on now. I like to watch it and laugh. I ain't sacred of Fox News bullshit. They should really consider some type of content filter for the television service. Particularly, no September 11th highlights. It's like watching Jaws before you go to the Ocean. It's not fun to watch planes do that while you're in one. I'm not a fan of censorship, but would you lay out pictures of flipper babies before you tried conceiving? I probably wouldn't.

A piece of the plane broke off, which was mildy dis-concerning. It was the emergency exit sign that fell on to the ground. I don't dig that. I don't like seeing the vessel I am traveling in fall apart in any way. I don't imagine it to be an impetus on our arrival, but I like my plane in good working order. I'm geekly about the details when it comes to tubes that fly through the air at five hundred miles an hour. I can't wait until I own a bus. If you have one to donate, please contact me.

I'm excited about Ottawa. It's been a lengthy comedic hiatus. I WAS counting, and it's been 39 days since last I actually worked. Sure, I've done local shows in Calgary; but to me, THIS is what comedy is. This is the job. And it's been a helluva long time since I've worked, and I'm excited as all hell. I love my job. Seven years later and I still love my job, and in some ways, way more than ever. The seven year itch has will have to wait for year fourteen - I dig this job and am just getting better.

Pictured and musings to come. Brett hits Ottawa for the first time....

Mountain Factory

2006-03-18T14:51:00.001-05:00

This machine is where Mountains come from.

It's Me, It's Me!

2006-03-18T14:47:00.000-05:00

My first pic on here.

Me and a towel wringer in Banff.

More to come.

The Melancholly Surprisingly Returns

2006-03-17T15:00:00.000-05:00

Now What? That's the question going through my mind lately. Feel I've hit something of a plateau, you know...

I should be overjoyed and ecstatic. Thrilled and exuburant. I got the girl. I am starting to become a headliner comedian. I found a nice home to move into within two weeks. All the ancillary parts of my world are no longer in my orbit. Many of my goals have been reached, and I'm supposed to be happy now. But I'm not entirely sure I am. I am at the place I always vowed that should I ever reach, peace and contentness would meet me there. If this was the rainbow, there was to be gold here - but there isn't. These days are just like any other. And now the question is "What Next?"

Makes me wonder about goals and what they mean. Perhaps goals are not much more than dictractions to protect us from the mundaity day-to-day life. They say life is pain - perhaps goals and ambitions are small shots morphine, enough to get us through until the next wave of joy unexpectedly hits.

I really am not sure what to do with myself. The adventures of Brett - the one I have been on for the past years, are finished, and they indeed showed me much and brought to me a world of good and love. They took me to England, Toronto, Montreal, parts of America and the East Coast of Canada. I have reaped what I have sown and the yield is impressive. It was an all-encompassing journey that took the whole of me to accomplish, in which every ounce of my heart, mind and soul was pured into. I did it all and had my goals to guide me throuhg it. And now, I see I have reached them.

Now what? I am still alive. In fact, contrary to what I theorized, I am getting healthier. I am still a young man, yet I am getting older - in a good way. It has been suggested to me that at this point, I "start again". Guess I have to.

I have more goals. I do want much, much more than what I have. I haven't even scratched the surface of what I wish to do. Haven't taken much more than a step or two in the direction of who I want to be. It just seems that these goals will be a little harder to accomplish. These tasks a little bigger; and in direction, a bit vaguer.

And to think how funny this experience of life is. Once your goals are reached and at that very moment you find yourself perched on the summit of you dreams, that moment is also the exact same moment yet another range of journeys presents themselves, and you find yourself seemingly back where you started, at the base again, foregtting all the work that brought you there.

So I guess I have to awake from the daze in order to seize the days. Wake up.....

Human, Being

2006-03-14T14:09:00.000-05:00

And the sign said 'Move Your Mind'.

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I'm settling very roughly into my new life, my new world and my new routine. It seems funny to me that living in the city I once called home for over a decade and having the woman with me I now call my love, that I should be having such a difficult time finding my feet - but I am. And if I have learned one thing, I have learned not to dispute that which is, and deny what is true. I read the signs to get to where I go, and the most recent signage spoke of the need for a moving of the mind - I have also learned not to fight the wisdom of the universe.

My new feet have new beliefs from old lessons. I have learned not to rely on two things: People and Computers. Both are of faulty design and unreliable at the best of times.

I am sitting a car dealership waiting for the car of the woman I love to be looked at. Seems there is a small trouble with the electrical unit. The automatic locks like to lock and unlock at a frequent pace. This is a very new happening. Something to do with a faulty computer chip. Certainly not a problem, but assuredly a bit of a nuisance. Life is a busy activity best spent in places other than Car Dealerships. But, technology fails and we must abide by it's shortcomings as we stride forward in our endeavors.

Computers crash all the time, losing thousands of hours of good old fashioned hard work - something I very much believe in. We put our trust in these machines to lubricate the pistons of life, to help more smoothly pump the engine of living forward as we stride towards our dreams. But, they fail. They fail us all the time. Cellphones don't deliver important texts. Laptops fail to save our best written piece. Car computers lock car doors for no reason far too often.

Even if a computer does save all required information, another folly is the human who operates it. Humans lack the precision of electronic instruments - something I find endearing. But, the trouble with humans is somewhere deeper and more toublesome a place - The vaults of our beliefs and the steadfast might in which we guard them.

You see, the earth was once flat. It was also the center of the Universe. There have been thousands of Gods named by man, all of whom were real enough to kill or be killed for. Clocks and calendars were designed to track the progress of an event which has no direction in either way. Countries created on land which is neither nere not there. There is no north or south, east or west, then or later.

I am not a nihilist. Very far from it. I believe in much. I believe in the sun. I see it every day. It appears and disappears, seemingly to return again when it does. I believe in water. It flows endlessly and without either permission or apology. I believe in Love. It repairs a hurting spirit and creates life where there seemingly was none before. I believe in wind. It refreshes the stale environment that wind decides needs moving. I believe in touch. It is soothing and can transplant you to a new world - simply by being felt. I believe in fun. Sheer, pointless fun. I believe in smiling and laughing and sharing. I believe in the sound of music. I believe in the rhythm and the beat. I believe in colors, textures and hues. I believe in it all - so long as we humans never claimed to have created it. We at best named that which is, always has been and forever will be. I believe doing anything other than enjoying the thrill of it all is a waste. A sad disrespect to the gift of something greater than computers and humans.

And we all walk so assured we are right. The sign says 'Move Your Mind'. Move my mind away from a place where it is littered with the debris of the untrue and the unreliable. I am trying to move it to a place of simply being. In that place, I think, I shall finally obtain my only true duty on this earth - to be A Human, Being.

Brett says.....

2006-03-03T11:46:00.000-05:00

Thanks for all the ad clicking. You took me from three cents to eight dollars and thirty four cents. I appreciate it. It also happens to help me know quality. If you like it, keep clicking. If you don't, don't. Incentive based writing. It'll keep me writing and prevent me from writing boring crap like the one you're about to read.

Well, who knows. I can't speak on your behalf - I don't even know you in all likelihood. Maybe you'll love what I wrote. Who knows? It's up to you to decide. I just sit and spill what my brain has leaking from it. It's early - waddya want from me?

Click, click, click!

Early Morning Writing Lacks Bite

2006-03-03T11:12:00.000-05:00

I don't really have much to say today. It's early morning here for me. Around 9am, which is not habitual hours of being awake for me. I am becoming rather domesticated now. My girlfriend has a morning job and a loud alarm clock. She also likes to talk to me once she awakes, and then bring coffee into the bedroom, and then talk to me more. It is a tad difficult to sleep through all the incessant morning kindness. It takes her about an hour to roll out of the house, which is just enough time for me to have trouble getting back to sleep. And as she saunters out the house to work, I imagine her snickering that, once again, she got me out of bed way before noon. And, like clockwork, once the door closes and she leaves, I always find myself wondering what the hell I'm going to do with myself.

It usually starts with reading the Sports section of the Newspaper rather obsessively. I thoroughly read the sports stories searching for that tidbit of information that may spread light on a future game or potential trade. Then I look at the league standings and flex my mathematical muscles. I take in all the numbers, do the math, add in factors, and determine for myself how the standings may look in a day, a week, a month. I look for a pattern to emerge, then I predict winners and losers. You'd think I gamble, but I don't. The thrill of being right is enough and the shame of mis-calling a game brings me more shame than you'd think.

Then I sit down more and think what am I going to do today? This has been a pattern for years. It used to happen around 3 in the afternoon, but not thanks to girly, it occurs far too early. The thought of going back to nap always seems enticing, but usually by that time, she has begun to text me on my cell phone and it is harder than I thought it would be to tell your hard-working woman that while she was busting her butt at her job she hates, I was drooling on our pillows dreaming of hockey stats. So, I do something like try to pick up the new cat, or go for a cigarette. Sometimes I check the sports channels for new sports news, and then I get another text from Jessica, and I tell her I'm reading or something to that end. Then I start feeling guilty again, because while she's shoveling snow, I'm waiting to here more about the Calgary Flames' seventh round draft pick from three years ago who is battling scabies and the slim odds of making it to the NHL. Then I shower.

This is the turning point of the day. The shower is really where it all begins. Once I am clean, I feel a duty to be productive. If I do not shower, I will not do anything. I do not believe in being smelly or dirty, which is ironic, because I smoke and habitually where the same jacket again and again. But, once I shower, it's game-on, and I find myself ready to conquer the world.

Which is when I go outside for a smoke and realize it's only 10:30am, and I'm usually still sleeping, and I get a little mad that she keeps waking me up with coffee and love. But, even in haste, it's far nicer to be awoken to kindness and have a leisurely morning than it is to awake mid-day and realize I'm already three hours late for the meeting I clearly won't make it for.

They say the early bird gets the worm. I don't happen to like worms, but I understand an analogy when I hear it. Now, I see a clock that reads 9:38am, and I laugh to think that I've already done that which back in the day would not be done until sometime in the afternoon, and I have a whole day to think of writing a better piece than the one I just penned.

Please Click on the Ads and Make Me Money and Other Thoughts

2006-02-27T15:12:00.000-05:00

Please click on the ads you see adorning my wonderful blog. I don't care if you press 'Back' after you do. I don't care if you buy whatever they are pitching. I simply ask you to click on all the ads. It's been a week since they have been up, and I have made EXACTLY three cents. Not even enough money for me to go fuck myself with. So, in the spirits of giving (to Brett) please click away and help a brother out.

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It's Monday and I have yet to find an apartment to rent. We haven't really looked all that ambitiously, however. Today the search will begin in earnest, but not TOOO earnestly, I note, as I sit in the dark, dank computer room and type away on issues that matter not. I need my own car. Click on the ads.

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I've been having nosebleeds alot lately. I am concerned. In fact, every day since my return to Calgary, my nose has dripped life fluid. I recall my first move to Calgary several years ago suffering from a vertigo-type illness whenever I would stand up. You see, Calgary is about a mile-high which is a much higher altitude than in most regions. My hope is that these face bleeds are nothing more than adjusting to the highness of the city. My fears tell me otherwise; That it's deaths trailor being played out through my nostril (the right one, for the record). I have checked other orafaces for signs of blood and so far, I am ok. As it stands now, it's just the middle of my face that bleeds; something to calm my fear, I need.

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If you are living in the Calgary area and have Calgary Flame tickets to give to me, I will take them. Send me an e-mail and I will help you unload your burden on me.

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I should be looking at homes to live now. But I am not. I am waiting for my father to return with his car. 26 years old an still at the mercy of my Dad. Maybe my nose is bleeding because the spirits of those who are strong are punching my face, telling me to toughen up and be my own man, do my own thing. Rely on no strength but my own. Maybe it's my spirit punching my nose, telling me to man up and stop being the waif that needs. Start being the man who is. Yes. A man. A man takes control of his destiny and grabs it from the hands of those he passed it to in his moments of weakness. A man attarcts people to the greater cause. A man - I am one. Listen, all of you.....If you simply click on my ads.....

Tomorrow is For Fools - TheProof Is In The Litter Box

2006-02-23T01:14:00.000-05:00

"Five years from now, I'll have a mansion and things will be better"
"Once I get my investment portfolio up and running, I'll be happy"
"As soon as I get my television show, life will start being REALLY good"

Tomorrow is for fools.

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The family Martin has a new cat. Her name is Chloe. She is an excitable kitten who is bursting at the seems with boundless energy. Although I must admit I prefer the previous pet at the moment, this one is not without her charm. A pint sized grey and white tabby kitten, Chloe is five hundred pounds of attitude and swagger in a two pound frame. She dictates when she will be held. She calls the shots with the humans in the household. Her food bowls are re-filled with no second thought once she fixes her kitteny eyes upon the house people. Chloe, only three months into existence and three weeks at the Martin Family house, has herself a charmed existence in a myriad of ways.

The house is covered in cat toys and cat bells and cat fishing rods. It also has kitchen table chairs, which double as cat-monkey bars. It has grocery bags which have evolved into cat noise makers. It has hands, fingers and toes, all of which are of the most exciting things in the world of cat-dom. The house itself has become not much more than a kitty-cat playground in which a mother, a father, call home, and a son and his girlfriend call their launching pad. But, in the mischievous eyes of excitable Chloe, it's the whole world and she is the undisputed Queen - a Queen, mind you, who would starve without her servants can-opening abilities.

I watch her. She amazes me. She goes and goes and goes, running circles around the TV, family room, kitchen and living room, attacking everything she sees with zeal. If you are reading the newspaper, she will attack it and seize your attention. If you are drinking chocolate milk, she will sneak attack a sip. She pounces at her own tail, then, like clock-work, realizes it's attatched to her body, which is hers, and thus focuses on another toy in another room, beginning another cycle of kitten rampage.

She will do this non-stop until the fatigue sets in. Once it does, she finds the nearest warm place and crashes into the deepest realms of kitty sleep, re-energizing for the next round of all-out Chloe terror.

In the world of Chloe, there appears to be no tomorrow. Granted, there may be limited levels of consciousness, but the fact remains true. When she is chasing her cat-nip bow-tie, there appears to be no other reality at the moment but that. There is not thought of which toy to swat at next, no consideration of whose toes' to surprise attack soon after. She appears to be the master of the moment, the zen cat from the future, sent to teach the Martin family and whoever has an open (third) eye a thing or two.

I found myself watching her sleep, curious as to why she would wake up. For what reason? She has no career to pursue. There is no dream home to build. There is no mate out there for her to meet and, thanks to the neutering service of the Humane Society, no offsrping to conceive and raise. In terms of conventional reality as we know it, her life is meaningless. If I could speak Cat, though, I am not sure I could convince little Chloe of this fact.

You see, in her world, once she wakes up, all is anew. In front of her lay a vast land of opportunity, fun, excitement, joy and pleasure. There is love, too, given from the hands and laps of the people populating her universal reality, that, in her moments between food and play, she is more than happy to partake in. There appears to be no tomorrow for Chloe - only a wonderful now; a blissful, exciting, all-encompassing moment that she, in her infinite wisdom, knows to appreciate.

It matters not to her that there is no University on her horizon, no kids to raise and kick-out of the house, no tomorrow in which the work of today will pay out; there is no pursuit but one - to be. And at that, Chloe Martin is the champion of Being. And at 26 years old and haven seen the majority of my enormous, vast, country and reasonable amounts of the world, I find my wisest teacher yet may very well be a three month old kitten who just happens to love playing with feces in the litter box.

It's Not That You're Just Another Number, But.....

2006-02-18T17:24:00.000-05:00

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The Mind is Out of Order

2006-02-10T17:03:00.000-05:00

Imagine the most amazing thought. As supremely and astounding a revelation as the mind can fathom, and the pretend I just wrote it. I tried but I have nothing to say.

Forest or Trees?

2006-02-06T00:36:00.000-05:00

I'm in Saint John, New Brunswick. It's an off night and Super Bowl Sunday, which as I age, is looking more like any other Sunday, except it seems I'm supposed to have more fun tonight than usual, and drink more name brand Beer and eat more name brand Pizza. I'm suffering from the Blah's tonight. I'm not sad or happy. I'm not elated or down. I'm just Blah and fortunate that my Hotel room has wireless.

New Brunswick and Nova Scotia are two Provinces I did not know that well before doing this tour. I'd been to Halifax and Northern Nova Scotia, but that was a drinking vacation, and memories are not meant to arise from such journeys. This time my eyes are open, but my mind is somewhere else. Sometimes I forget where I am. I've been to so many places and have so many more places to go that it is begining to blur into one. Every city has the Gas Station with the Certain Bank Machine and the certain kind of one-of-a-kind coffee and a toliet that smells like urine and chlorine, which is sad, because I like the smell of chlorine and now my mind is registering urine as 'hopeful good smell' in it's processing.

There's trees and rocks and hills and old buildings and semi trucks and hotels with nice people and motels with jack-asses. There's the restaurant that's thankfully clean, the diner that's surprisingly good, the cafe that's surprisingly open and the nearing town that's closer than you thought.

There's the audience that loves you, the crowd that didn't get you, the room of people that were fun to talk to, the venue that won't have you back and the show you'll never forget. There's free beers, two dollar pop and staff menu to order from. There's the Manager that drops names, the bartender who drops glasses and the comic you're working with that picks-up the groupies that are not nearly as numerous as you would have thought.

Every new place you go is so much like the place you left that, if you're lucky, you start to see it all as the same thing. You're no longer in a new city or a diffirent country; now, you're just over here, and at some point, you're going to go over there.

At the same moment, you begin to see how every place is incredibly unique, too. The Factory Workers that bought you a beer and told you about their factory closing and how it affects the town is tought to forget, and even though bad things happen everywhere to everyone, when you can put a face to the misfortune that you only ever hear about on the News, you realize that life is real, and so are the people in who serve the bitter coffee in the greasy spoon that you swore you've been in before.

I have so much I want to see, and I guess I'm on the right path. I'm just wondering if there's not another angle to view it from. Saint John, New Brunswick is a nice town and the people have been cordial and I have been uncaustic, but even though this is my first trip here, I can't help but feel I've been here a hundred times before.

One more day in New Brunswick and it's back to work. Until then, it still feels like Groundhog Day.

Baker Street

2006-02-01T13:48:00.000-05:00

I leave Montreal on Thursday for Halifax, where I begin a ten day tour of the region. At the commencement of the trip, I will be returning to Western Canada rather than Montreal. My time here has come to a quick, yet expected end, and with it, and end to a begining I gathered would not cease this soon. Jessica, the woman I have shared my time and life with for the past several months, departs for the sunny pastures of California for her new life four days after I head for The Maritimes.

And with that, with those two flights, ends one of the warmest periods of my life. It's too harsh to use the term breaking up, but the same result swill occur here. The cards reality has dealt show a hand that does not allow me to get to Los Angeles; rather, my cards have me in a good position none-the-less. I am headed, again, forward, this time, though, with emptier arms.

In my mind, heart and soul, I am sad, to be honest. I enjoyed this period of time truly and heartily. My relationship record had been very spotty to this point. I hadn't been fortunate enough to go through much more than good times and good connections. The world of true love had yet to be entered, yet alone sustained. With this ends by far the best experience I've had, one I wish wasn't yet done, one I'm having trouble believing actually will end. I find many endings in my life seem without valid reason, but life is not reasonable, it is simply life, and all I can do is live by it's rules or be hurt by them. I can only make sails, not the wind.

I will not stay down. Life is a gift full of gifts and that which is given is usually taken away. Memories and a new reality will be my souveniers to share as I continue on my path to everything and everywhere. She leaves, I should hope, with a happy heart, too. I try to give all I can and I hope I didn't fail her. One could easily point out that since she is leaving without me, that perhaps I had no effect. That perhaps I was nothing more than a convenience or a warm body, and in all honesty, often times that person pointing out these facts are me, but something in me knows better. I have never been a man that has been presented with fair obstacles or usual circumstances, and this could be easily categorized as a similar event, but I feel that as this thing ends here that, for whatever reason, I left a mark, too. We all make our choices - I hold my head high knowing I loved the best the best I knew how.

Other than that, I am well. Even with this, I am well. My will is stronger than ever. My human being skills have been honed. I feel I am just now begining to excell at the art of living, that all the time before now was primer for what this may all be about. I wanted dearly my life to take a turn to that of one with a greater meaning, and that transpired here. I am not the same man that entered this city. The man who leaves Montreal only slightly resembles the boy who arrived here months earlier seeking a new chance and a new meaning. He found both and more, and although the face may be the same and hair still brown, the eyes, they know more now, and the hands feel able to build worlds.

The flight I leave on happens to have the comic I am working with on it. It's a nice treat that just as one journey should end, right when the tide of life pushes me hard against my will, a new one shall start once I board my plane and once again depart for the unknown, this time, via Halifax, with thousands of Maritimers to share my pont of view with.

It's been said, but it's true. It's better to have loved and lost than not have loved at all. Not many more hours until things dry and the refocus begins. I have my eyes set, they are fixed West, and they are hungry. Fisrt I have last day here. One more day to enjoy....

Good-Bye To A Year And An Old Way Of Life

2005-12-31T18:54:00.000-05:00

So 2005 is over in about 7 hours from where I am now. It's been one hell of a year, one that's gone might quickly, too. One year ago as the clock struck midnight, I was driving a rental car through Calgary after having dropped off my friend, who was too sick to stay out, at home. I was sober at midnight, the first time in years that happened (or at any other midnight, for that matter) and it struck me that perhaps something new was being foreshadowed. I couldn't have guessed all that happened in the year that we're putting to rest in a matter of hours, and I feel that not only is a year done, not just a new calender to put up, but truly this years' passing marks the end of an era. What will become can only be known as I walk forwards into the new future that awaits. In the year 2005, this, in no specific order, happened:

- My beloved Cat Patches was put down after years of loyal service. My unconditional love of my cat continues, and I miss her every day. You know what, though? She's still around. I can feel it. 2006 will be the first Patches free year in two decades and I'll be fine. It's what you had, not what you lost

- I moved to Montreal to be with a woman who has defied description. I always vowed I would never move anywhere for the sakes of a relationship....I am happy I broke my rule. You never know how things are going to go, but this IS going great, and I am happy and grateful for each day I get to share with her

- I left Toronto. Huge move. I finally chose being alive and a life of true consequence over a life of false idolizing and illuison. Real Brett over a career. I know that which is real and made a stand that mattered to me. Real life is the only important thing that matters and the supposed fall-out from such a move is beyond worth it. Bring it.

- I went to alot of places. In 2005 alone: Vancouver, Kamloops, Williams Lake, Cranbrook, Kelowna, MACLENNAN, Red Deer, Edmonton x2, Calgary x lots, Fariview, Grand Prairie, Regina, Saskatoon, Winnipeg (briefly and happily), Toronto, Ajax x2, Barrie x3, Windsor, London (the shitty one), Peterborough, Hamilton, Kitchener x 3, Kingston, Grand Rapids, New York City and lastly Montreal. I forgot lots of them, I imagine. I believe I travelled upwards of 50000 kms. I can't believe all I have seen, and my life's work will be to communicate what I see.

- I moved across the street in Toronto is mid-day after deciding to that morning. Good move! You should really only do that which you want to do, and that was the first real example of that. I encourage you all to do the same.

- Went to a Flames game. THANK GOD.

- I got my guitar back and started playing it again. I love it. Just a matter of time I until I make albums. Remember that.

- I read dozens of books. My brain knows alot more now than it did this time last year. I continue to pursue knowledge, and one day, I'll still have alot to learn but I'll have that much more to teach.

- I started writing THIS things. Somwhere, somehow, perhaps it made a diffirence.

It was a busy year. 2006 will be a much busier, much bigger year. My whole life, I've felt I was working towards something - something I couldn't quite see but knew was there. I think now I am getting close. I can feel it. This will be the year where there is so much more change. You read it here first - things will not be the same. And that's ok. That's what I want. I'm making no resolution, no vows of a better way, no promises to be a fuller, better man. Those are all bullshit and maybe if we vowed to those every day of our lives rather than just at calenders end, we'd make more realistic resolutions, like eat the foods we like and listen to the music we love.

2006 will be new. But, it's more where I am than what the calender says. My new direction has already started, and mark my words, things are going to happen. Happy New Year, unless you don't believe in Calenders or time, which I am aspiring to. So, maybe, Happy Today, Happy Midnight, and Happy Tomorrow, but mostly, Happy Moment.

Pucks & Nets

2005-12-17T03:04:00.000-05:00

Hello, again. It's been awhile. Wonder if anybody reads this. If you do, you're partly the reason I stopped writing it. I do this for me. I have to admit I liked the comments, but I hate writing, playing music, being funny or just plain talking when I'm concerned with other people. Happy you like it, but know I do it for me. Knowing that, pleased to have you here and I'm funnily surprised you stuck around. I'm in Kelowna British Columbia now and my mind is excited.

This bar I'm doing comedy in this weekend has a street hockey mini arena in the corner. It has a glossy floor, real boards, a full size net with a goalie cut-out and some sticks and balls. It's alot of fun to have both hockey and comedy in the same room. If heaven was real, it would contain both of these for me. It's a wondeful treat I didn't expect.

So, I've been shooting alot. When I go to eat. Before the show. I anxiously look at it during the show hoping it would end so I could shoot. Tonight, I played alone, happily, as the bar closed and enjoyed rock and roll, which is much to my liking as well and will surely be in heaven, too.

I found myself very short of breath as I ended up playing tonight. I was curious as to why. I do smoke, but I was in the gym today and I never got that panty. I figured out why. It triggered my competitve nature. ARRRRRRRR. I love to compete. If you are reading this, challenge me at anything. I may not win but I WILL freak out trying.

I also found myself realizing something. As I slapped shot, backhanded and snap-shotted away, I saw that once I learned how to accomplish scoring in one manner, I VERY quickly wanted to learn how to perfect ANOTHER way of scoring. Knowing how to score one way is good, but it also means you can learn to score in more than one way, and you should probably teach yourself and learn how to.

As I competed with myself to get better at solo-indoor-bar-hockey-shoot-past-the-cardboard-goalie, my pulse raised, and I saw something else. Something totally diffirent but so very much obvious. The net as a whole. It was at that point my mind, in it's complex simplicity, thought, "Just put it in the net". No other thought. No other grand design. At that point, I became a single minded indiviual with the sole and only purpose of putting the ball in the net. To say it was easy is to mis-characterize it. It was one thing: Me, the stick, the ball, the net and the distance between it. The ball simply went in the net again and again.

Funny enough, the moment I was aware of this, I stopped to score. The odd one went in, but that was a result of years of built-up practice and ability. It was not the thoughtless act of ball-in-net.

It paralells with my comedy so well, too. With my guitar. With my concerns and my stresses and my Love. The moment I forget to think about it is the moment I understand it, the moment I enjoy it and the truest moment of my being alive on this planet. Life is far from perfect and the knowledge of that is sometimes enough to keep it that way. When I forget about that stuff, when I see life as whole and me a part, I realize that, if I can simply put the puck in the net, I don't miss my shot.

A Canadian Prairie Boy In A Land Of Quebecois Frenchies

2005-11-18T18:58:00.000-05:00

Another new city - except this time I only speak half the languages and know one person. It's quite the sensation, but one I like. Why take the easy short road when you can take the long road and walk it? This city, Montreal, meaning, I think, "Mount Royal" is a new city to me in many ways. This Western Canadian Manboy has met quite the city here, and I enjoy the learning curve it presents.

The language barrier is not as drastic as it may seem from first persepctive, but delve a little deeper and it reveals much of about the lay of the land. My French consists of basic pleasantries and some swears. Not quite enough to get me through a conversation with a die-hard Frenchy. My strong prairie english is not met with any warmth until I reveal I am new here. At that moment, a switch, much like being abroad and informing them you are Canadian, not American. They begin speak to me in the clearest english their tongue can offer and over-compensate with kindness. My guess is the French culture in Quebec resents the Anglo Quebecers' who don't learn the language. That is fair. I would consider it equal to the Western Canadian who is irked by the new Canadians english when they enter a taxi. I will try here. When I leave and say "Merci" they smile. An effort is all Frenchy wants, and an effort Frenchy will get.

I've also lost my glasses which doesn't make it any easier. A blurry language that you don't really know is a very tough one to understand. I cannot always read what I don't really understand. Talk about compounding challenges. Truth be told, I find it funny and enjoy the extra difficulty it presents.

I know that "Est" is East. I know "Ouest" is West. I now know that "Henri Bourassa" is the direction to head downtown on the Metro. Actual Conversation:

Brett - "How do I get downtown?"
Transit garcon - "Henri Bourassa"
Brett - "Thanks, Merci"
Bretts' thoughts - "What the hell? Since when is a name a direction?"

It's a quaint place, this city. In the downtown, a searchlight scans the populace atop one of the largest buildings, creating a lighthouse effect. Calming. Inspiring. It's as if it screams to the whole Island and beyond, "Here. It's all happening here". It inspires me to proclaim the same thing one of these days.

The Metro, the Montreal Subway, is not a Subway at all. It has rubber tires. It's clean. People are alert and awake on them. Real people. They talk and laugh. They are going somewhere, but they happen to be there, too. It's like an underground bus. I like it. The busses, somehow, are always full. That's odd. If you like standing on a bus, move to Montreal. Even the handicapped people don't get to sit.

The area I live in is apparantly the artistic capitol of Canada, according to the Globe and Mail I read last week. The postal code we are in is a highly creative area. All sorts of artists and freaks alike have converged on "Notre Dame de la Grace", which is shortened to "NDG" and in english, "Our Lady Of Peace". There's a train track that runs thorugh it and every ten minutes a new train speeds through. It's comforting. The main street than runs through it, Sherbrooke street, is alive and hub of activity. Foreign grocers are next door to old style banks which neighbour guitar shops and army/navy stores. Frenchies and Anglos seem to meet here and forget about langauge bullshit and just seem to live in a state of relaxation. It's a good neighbourhood.

It's a good city, Montreal. I never thought I'd spend time here as a resident. It's a good twist of fate. There's also opportunity for a man like me here to do something with the talent I've garnered over the years. This city, this island in the middle of a giant river, is helping me to become less if an island. I hope to continue to grow like and be like the mountain that sits in the heart of this place. A place to view all that sits below with awe and pride. Can't wait to scale my personal Mont-Royal.

The Most I Can Write In Fifteen Minutes

2005-11-17T19:32:00.000-05:00

Ahhh.....rolling in on good spirits in Montreal. I MC one of the clubs here tonight. It's also Jessica's birthday. Somehow she ended up cooking for me today, and somehow I didn't mind. As it stands at this very moment, I have to jet to the club for my show and I'm sitting here listening to Queens Of The Stone Age, rocking out, ready to do my job very well.

I guess I live in Montreal now. My Cat also died. So much has happened and I have had not much time to have it all sink in. So much to write, I have issues figuring out where to start.

My days now are a tad diffirent. I have my guitar back in hand and love it there. I have more of an ear for music that I thought I did. Today, while strumming and listening to the radio, some Neil Young came on and I played it. Hell yeah - things happening here. You can also catch me painting or writing waht may or may not be poetry. Comedy is happening, too, but in a diffirent way. It now literally keeps me alive and fed. It feeds me to live the rest of my life, which will soon pay into the same pile.

Castro went to Mexico City before he headed back to Cuba. I'm not sure if this is my uba, but I do suspect it to be my Mexico City. The calm before it all... This city is cool. An island. With a mountain in the middle. You understand why people settled here. Isolation. Natutral moat. View of the land. It's a good place. I like it. My French is dodgy at best, but fuck 'em. That's the way I roll....

My Cat I miss. Much. I can never see her again and I am dumbfounded by that. Nomatter what, she is a memory now. A treasured one. One that won't be forgotten. I remember years and years ago a kitten I met for two days in England. I was a child, I remembered I loved it, and I vowed I would always remember it's name. Saffron was the cat. I remember 15 or so years later. My cat was with me for 19 years. Should give you a clue how ingrained she will be on my psyche.

Now I look ahead and see a future for me. Something for me to do. Things for me to accomplish. Things I need to say, people I need to say them for. Ears who need to hear me and obstacles to overcome. It took so much work to get to this starting line but I am happy I am here. A sense of well-being has overcome. A piece of happiness has set in; Melancholic at times, but still it is. The thing that has not chnaged is my furious drive to where I am going. Feel I'm getting there. This should be fun.

I Was Told To Write

2005-11-08T15:25:00.000-05:00

What is it, Tuesday? Yeah, Tuesday. A Tuesday in November in Montreal. I dropped off my guitar for repairs. I have to clean up the place. I don't have any shows tonight, but I do have 7 this weekend. My mind is blurry and foggy and I'm not always sure where I am, but I do know I am here.

Started drawing an painting yesterday. Felt good to exert my artisitic drive in a diffirent way. Funny how the mind works as I look at my painting. One part of me thinks 'pure genius'. The other, 'Child's play'. I'm sure it's, as always, somewhere in the middle, but it's nice to do and I'll probably do more tonight.

Jessica has been a positive influnece on me. That's her name. I have found myself far from the trouble I frequently found myself in. Now, the trouble was often-times a little fun, but it wore on me after awhile, and this new way is an adjustment but nice. Takes some time to get used to. What I need is some friends here. I just have one - a really good one, but I think I need more.

I've started to look at my calender and a funny feeling is coming over me. I recall in my waning days in Toronto, living in my communial poverty, declaring never again like this. Well, as I look at my calender of gigs for the rest of the year, the same feeling over-came me. Never again like this. Not sure how or what to change. The basics are still true. I love stand-up. I'm pretty good at it, too. But this mish-mash of shows that take me anywhere for nothing near a kings ransom to perform for the un-converted as a complete unknown has got to end. To accomplish that, I must find an entire new level from within. Fret not, the quest has already begun. I get my guitar back on Monday.

It's weird here, too, because you don't get much for Calgary Flames high-lights. Last night, Jess happend to turn it to one of the three english channels and found the Flames on TV. I raised my arms in celebration at both the fact that they won AND I saw it on Montreal TV. It's the little things in life sometimes....

All in all, I am figuring out things here and enjoying myself, too. My days and nights are filled with things I have never spent my time doing and it's good for me - I like it. My senses, however, tell me that I am not finished. I have not walked away, only in a new direction. In fact, I feel I have so, so, so much more to go, and this time here will likely serve to prepare me that much more.

You Heard It Here First....

2005-11-02T13:58:00.000-05:00

...or seemed to have forgot if I am wrong. Various sports and other predictions:

1) Toronto Raptor Rookie Forward Charlie Villanueva wins NBA rookie-of-the-year. Raptors in contention for play-off spot until waning games of season. Question of belief in self determining factor in regards to play-off action. Team can win.

2) Calgary Flames Defensemen Jordan Leopold and (maybe) Forward Shean Dononvan are traded for a slick skating, accuarate passing, goal scorer. Think Sergei Samsononov but not Russian. Or Sergei Samsonov. Odds increased by combined struggles by Donovan and Leopold, and increased play by Steve Montador.

3) I will make it into the Just For Laughs Festival. It is a goal and I shall reach it. Odds this year increased by robust performances and positive attititude. Rock and Roll music will help cause, too.

4) I will not buy a toque or gloves this winter until I have frost-bitten myself rather badly, leaving myself unscarred, but pissed off. After new gloves and toque are applied, I will be warmer and dumb-founded that I didn't go buy a set after I wrote this very post in which I foresaw it.

5) This Christmas, many boys and girls will find out there is no Santa Claus and begin a life in disillusionment and pain. Expect for the Jewish children, who knew all along - gifts come from Hannukah Hank.

6) This blog will surpass 1,000,000 readers when, for the millionth time, someones punches in "Paris Hilton" and the last part of "talking" and stumbles, again, on to my site.

7) I will read back to this entry and think, "Why did I go on for so long when I ran out of steam at the number 3 mark? It would have been quaint and nice and served doubly to honor the first prophecies. Fool."

The 100th Post

2005-10-29T22:36:00.000-04:00

It's been a hundred posts after this one. Much has changed since the night I feverishly ran around Calgary late at night, seeking a internet cafe so I could add to this new writing tool I had. A spirtual treatment triggered this, and it's nice to see how it has been here everywhere I have gone, which finds me surprisingly in Montreal now, casually strolling downtown after a show in a new place, to sit and write some thangs.

Lots has happened in 100 posts, which is what this time period shall be called. fuck four score and ten years ago, it's now '100 posts and three naps ago'. I no longer call Toronto home. I no longer call anything home. As my girlfriend - another new addition - reminds me, I am sorta from nowhere. I'm just here, wherever that is.

Montreal is a diffirent city in many ways other than language. It's pace is quicker, yet smoother. It is more aggressive, but equally seductive. If Toronto is Steak and Lobtser, this place is caviar. You could smoke a pipe (of varying types) down the street here and look no more out of place than the hasidic jew. It's a good city, this place - one I call as much a home as any.

The challenges in my life are new ones now. I have passed the previous level with varying degrees of success and marks that were good enough to get my by. These tribulations will be new ones, draw more strength from me, challenge me and help to define me. If I was a golfer, I'd say I'm developing a new swing. it'll be the same swing - just more power, accuracy and grace. More money for after golf beers, too.

No more golf meteaphors. No more writing for now, either. Fuck you - I'm in Donwtown Montreal, sitting on Ste. Catherines on a Saturday night with another show to do and somebody to see after. Things are good. Much is ahead, little of which is easy. I anticipate it all with a smile, a light heart and a quiet confidence that tells me no matter what, it will be ok.

What will 200 look like? Better go make it happen.

A Good Day Brings This

2005-10-21T19:02:00.000-04:00

I'm in Vancouver now. I love this city. I could live here. There is a constant buzz of life. Beings living peace and harmony. City infastructure sits in the shados of nature's true beauty - and me, walking around drinking coffee, smoking 'my last ever cigarette' thinking I finally get it here and, damn, am I lucky I get to do a show here tonight.

The show last night was very good. I was happy with it. Room for improvement still and always, but more shows like last night equal less days of being broke. The tide is turning and I, lucky to catch the wave.

Talk after the show turned to art and philosophy, two of my favorite subjects. Rarely are these two values spoken of amongst peers in my former city of residence. Ideas are important here, and my friends in this city hold the same values. Che Guevara was exposed as a manipulated minion of Castro, who has inspired the name of my yet-to-be-formed band; Castro's Karma. As soon as I learn to make music, there will be no stopping Castro's Karma.

I need some clothes. I don't have what could be called a 'wardrobe'. What I do have is 'Clothes that are cleaner than others'. Perhaps that is not the best system of design, but honest it is, and I must live by the style my economic reality has dictated. If I was rich, which to me is enough money for both bills AND fun, I would probably dress the same - I would just do less laundry.

Tonight one idea I have for comedic discussion is Jessica and Ashley Simpsons parents. I think it's too bad that their loser father has pushed them to display publically their mediocrity just so old men and prisoners can masterbate to their image. That's bad parenting. I'm gonna make fun of him good and people will laugh. Then, the audience and I, we will all buy guns and storm the legisla...uh, too much Cuban Revolution going on in the mind. Castro's Karma is powerful.

The Flames won last night and the it appears the team is settling slowly into place. Much like their number one fan, the steps are small ones but without question, headed in the right direction.

"You're a Well Read Vagabond"

2005-10-18T18:24:00.000-04:00

"Pleased to meet you take my hand,
There is no way back from here,
Pleased to meet you say your prayers,
There is no way back from here,
But I don't care,
No way back from here"

Foo Fighters - No Way Back

--------

Waves of good energy flowing in. Becoming positive rage. Much is good as things wind down on the West side.

I'm now around day 50 of vagabonding. Shows no sign of ending. I'm getting cool with it. It takes awhile to get used to but now I don't foresee it ending anytime soon. Wherever the wond blows, I was told, is where I will end up, and that - that is just fine with me.

After weeks and weeks of work out here, it seems to me that I have grown quite a bit as a comic; moreso as a man. My armor is ready for the inevtiable attacks that the world will throw my way, my psyche tougher than it's ever been and my heart fearless. If I can be modest, honest....I'm liking the man I am becoming. I have many roads to travel, all of which will be full of twists and turns and a rut or two along the way, but with absence of fear I shall navigate them, full of the knowledge that that which does not stop me will make me even more powerful. Without calling on the spirits to throw me more of the roadblocks they have been so effective in presenting, I feel that although nothing is easy, nothing is outside the realms of my ability.

My insatiable desire for victory is becoming a driving force that I cannot soothe with anything but triumph. My gears are set for over-drive, idling until the situation deems it necessary. In this meantime, like a shark, I cruise in low gear, looking, listening, taking in all that I need to see, so when the moment arises, my preparation is at it's fullest and my attack most fierce. "Until The Victory Always"

My vagabonding days consist of reading and listening. Watching and being. Sleeping, talking, taking in. I recomend this to anybody. The key, it seems as I see it now, is to let go of everything and pick and choose that which comes to you. It will come. Realize the whole world is your home. That is the key - it seems now. More vagabonding will teach me even more and offer me the opportunity to share it, too.

I have been blessed to meet several people who have contributed to my collection of understandings. If I had never taken this leap, I never would have. Yes - there is no way back from here, which is wonderful....I didn't leave because I wanted to return.

You will hear more from me. In fact, I have hardly begun.

Cryptic doesn't mean dumb

2005-10-12T18:13:00.000-04:00

The world as it was drawn was never correct. I lived it by their rules. Living by their standards, up to their ideals, thinking that was the way.

I was wrong.

My turn.

Whatever happens next will.

My turn at the helms.

Another perspective

2005-10-11T15:35:00.000-04:00

I was in Saskatoon a few weeks ago. It turned out to be one of the wildest expereinces I've had in any walk of life in recent memory. I will share a side of the story.

I don't feel like explaining it too much. Thought about it all the time and figure there's another time to write about ir - just not now.

Luckily, a new friend and prospective journalist was there and captured it all. It's mostly as I recall it. Plus, my side would be so one-sided, so pro-Brett. That's a good thing, but sometimes it's nice to register an outside view as an official one, too.

So, enjoy.

http://shyangela.blogspot.com/2005/09/grace-under-fire.html

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Getting near the end of this tour. As my energy re-fills, I shall write more. As it stands now, I want to play guitar.

The Weekend in Numbers

2005-10-09T03:18:00.000-04:00

Venue: Calgary Yuk Yuks

Position: Master of Ceremonies

Shows: 7

Times onstage as MC: 30

Times more fatigued I am after this than normal: 10

Number of free drinks recieved: 2-4 (descrepency from bar tab)

Number of shows where I was me, as a man: 2.5

Number of shows I was an "MC" and told jokes rather than be me, a man: 4.5

Timed anger at self for mistake above normal rate: pi

Number of vistis to the gym: 1

Number of free newspapers recieved: 1

Number of small ceaser salads recieved: 1

Number of times I gave off the wrong impression, as seen in others eyes: many

Total bar tab at weeks end: $22

Number of pizza joint that delivers shit fucking pizza at 3:30 am in the indutrial part of Calgary: 403-531-3131

Number of times I will re-order from same venue: 0

Percenrtage likelihood that pizza chef was a fucking idiot: 83%

Games of chess played: 2

Games won: 0

Games ongoing because friend had to leave: 1

Games won by default: 1

Amount of sleep I need: lots

Blogs by Brett

2005-10-05T17:54:00.000-04:00

Blogs are a wonderful tool made neccesary by human being inability to deal with emotional truth face-to-face. The trouble with bligs are not the people who write the, rather the people who read them. If you are reading this now, or if you ever have, and thought you found infomation that can be used for selfish gain, you must die violently and misrably. This is a platform of free-thought and expression, one which should exist in every capacity if not for the emotional weakness of those in the herd who can't handle truth, and must have all information spoon-fed to them in docile, safe language.

If you are a co-worker of any kind, and read this, or any other blog, and think this information is relevant in 'real life', it would be if you had the emotional strength to speak in such truths. The faceless anonymity of the internet can be achieved in real life if you care only for the expression of your thought and not the popularity of it's result.

That is the reason chat-rooms are so damn popular. Everybody is shielded by facelessness. Easy to tell the boss to fuck off online. Do it to their face if you have any strength.

The internet is good for trivia, porn, and stealing music. Blogs ARE a good tool, but one that should be replaced by something even more important - truthing up at all times. They are not the replacement for truth and honesty in real life.

Weekend Stats - Cranbrook

2005-10-03T16:25:00.000-04:00

Part of the fun of being a Sports fan is getting to follow the stats. The Arts tend not to offer the same service - until this point. I present the Stats and other vital information for the weekend:

Number of Cowboys I lipped off - 3

Number of Cowboys who bought me drinks - 1

Number of Cowboys I thought would beat me down - 3

Number of bottles thrown at me - 0

Number of bottles of HP sauce I took home with me - 1

Number of jokes I made about raping myself - 1

Number of times I'd thought about that before I said it - 0

Number of complimentary drinks given by the bar - 0

Percentage of people wearing mauve - %32

Line of the Weekend - "Every time I tell an AIDS joke, an Angel loses it's wings"

Number of Ketchup packets in my White Spot Triple O burger bag - 2

Number of packets desired - 6

Percentage likelihood of my telling them off next time I order a burger - %100

Number of colds gathered from the germ filled hotel room - 1

Average age of of bar clienetelle downstairs - 17

Average dirty old mans' thought upon seeing said young crowd - awesome

Number of drinks bought for me downstairs - 2

Percentage of drinks bought for me that weren't paid for by my fellow comic - %0

Number of times I became snitty with the whole idea of the bar - countless

Number of times I woke up before noon - 2

Number of times I was happy to be awake before noon - 0

Number of times I filled my plate at the Breakfast buffet - 2

Number of times I 'Took a Break' on stage - 2

Number of time I'd like to return to Cranbrook - 0

Percentage likelihood of my returning - %50

Reason for %50 return chance - $$$

Percentage of my brain that thinks $$$ is a good reason to return - %15

Amount of brain space that thinks about rent and bills - %15

Amount of brain space I could do without - %15

Percentage of fear that now, because of that brain joke, that I will develop a tumor and require brain surgery that takes away %15 of my brain - %1000

Percentage likelihood that if I do have brain surgery that the hospital will be in Cranbrook - %100

Number of times I was happy to be onstage - 2/2

Cranbrook / I Feel Diffirent / The Good In Everyone

2005-10-01T19:08:00.000-04:00

I'm in Cranbrook now. A shitty little mountain town. Amazing how such natural beauty can spawn such a crappy town. It's ugly, run-down and the people are mostly retarded. It took me an hour to locate this internet terminal. The old internet cafe closed down, the new one had it's computer (yes, the ONE) stolen, and the college is closed. I had to go to the mall and ask the 'Circuit City' dudes where I could find the internet. Always rely on the electronic people to know of such places. Naturally, it was located across the street in a Wrap deli.

My ire has been stirred by these people. They really are about eight steps slower than most cats I have met. Outside the box thinking is not a trait here that couod best describe the populace. Oh, yes, there are the excpetions, and to them I owe the world, but the majority should think of moving to New Orleans. Myabe I'm just in a tiff.

The show last night was great fun. I was brilliant and named king of the mountain people by the redneck audience. I fathered eight children and built a truck. Mount Brett was renamed Mount Brett in my honor, and I healed a lepor. In other words, the shows are at adequate levels and I am content.

While I was waiting to ask for internet use at this wrap place, a Cranbrookian was struggling to choose what she wanted on her wrap. She, a slow mountain person. Me - impatient. I was getting very angry and tempted to break my vow of celebant violence when it hit me harder than I could have - the good in everyone. For all these people are as ass-backwards as can be, they still have good in them. It's not her fault she's never seen that many options in any form in her life, she just wanted to eat some food that would taste good and noursish her. Her intentions were pure while my anger was soiled by lack of thought. I relaxed but still must learn patience with these humans.

All in all, something good is happening. Septmeber 30th is a momentous day in my life. I met, who was to that point, the most influential women in my life on the 30th years ago. Last year, I moved to Toronto. When I was James Dean 50 years ago, I died in a car accident. September 30th this year will be recalled as the day I brought good-will to the people of Cranbrook, even when I all I wanted to do was hit them in the neck. September has ended and I am awake.

Something Beautiful From Something Kind

2005-09-29T05:19:00.000-04:00

There was a benefit tonight for the Hurricane victims at thy local comedy club. It was nice. People were in such good spirits. Much of that was the spirits themselves, but something special seems to happen to people when they work together for the greater good. Doing good deeds makes you feel good. Makes me wonder what makes me feel bad sometimes. It was nice. I have an uncanny ability to find the the dark spot in the sun, but no such blot appeared tonight. It was good vibes and good energy for a good cause - somebody else. Much enjoyed from this perspective and perhaps amplified by the fact that I didn't perform. It couldn't have been purer or better.

I feel an explosion of creativity churning within. I want to paint, make music, write and continue with the comedy, which is my first love. I'm learning finally to do it at the level and proficiancy that I expected from myself making it all the more fun. So much more to do. In so many ways, I have just begun.

My creative passion now reminds me of a love from another time in my life. Hockey. I used to play. I was even good at it. I stopped at 16 becuase I ceased to enjoy it. I found girls, cigarettes and pot which as a 16 year old are pretty good discoveries. I wish I never met smokes, but hockey was bound to lose anyhow. I left my hockey heart in Winnipeg.

I moved to Calgary in mid-season 1994, also known as January. I was on what was to that point the best hockey team I'd ever been on. Up to that point, I'd been on average teams where winning was a treat, not the norm. I never really enjoyed that. I loved playing the game, but winning is why I played. I was the best player on some of those teams, but it meant nothing because the teams as a whole were not champion calibre teams.

My last team - the team who has my heart still - was the Lord Roberts Terriers. I was 14 and on top of the world. It was the first time I had made the 'A' team and the promotion to the 'Big Time' was one I took seriously. The thrill of playing in that league paled in comparison to the concept of excelling in it. We had a wonderful coach, Mr. Bodnarchuk, who instilled in us the belief that when we were on our game, nobody could beat us. At 14, I was part of a gang of world--beaters. He was right, too. We were unstoppable when we showed up, which was almost every night.

I was not the most naturally gifted player on the team. I was not the fastest skater, nor was I the most popular guy on the team. What I was, though, was the heart of the team. For all of our intense desire to win, mine was foremost. Nobody wanted to win more than I did. Without being aware the time, I was the glue of the team. I was centering a line of far more talented hockey players, but I was leading them. Mr. Bodnarchuk coached Mike Keane, an NHL'er, and informed me I had all the same tools as he did and that I was very reminiscant of him at the same age. We were in the hunt for the division title and a run for the Manitoba Provincials. We were, even in youth, a great hockey team. Maybe I could have made it if I didn't leave Winnipeg. But I did, and with that, my life path changed forever; Maybe it became what it should.

Once I moved to Calgary, I didn't care. My team was my life. I wanted to win the championship with them. They were my team, not my new one. I was on the SouthFour Rebels or something like that. I didn't care. They had their unit and I was only on the team because of geography. Lord Roberts selected me. The Terriers were one and SouthFour were spare parts. And violent. It wasn't hockey anymore. It took me a year and a half of Calgary hockey to find women and things I could smoke far more interesting.

My father, who remained in Winnipeg for employment reasons, kept me abreast of Lord Roberts progressions, and a funny thing happened. They started to fail. They plummeted. It hurt me to see. My team needed me as much as I needed them and there was nothing either of us could do. As they faltered down the standings, I fell into a world of darkness. It was a terrible experience to experience.

Then one day the phone rang. It was my Dad. The news was not good. Marcel Sousa, a teammate of ours on Lord Roberts, was killed. He was at a crosswalk and was hit by a car. Died on impact. The question was asked if I could go to the funeral. It was not something to think about - it was then that I was back with my team, the moment when we all needed each other the most.

We were pall-bearers. All of us. 15 heartbroken 14 year-olds wearing our hockey jersyes in a funeral that caught the attention of the entire city. Seems Marcels' death struck a nerve with all of Winnipeg. Front Page News. There were on-lookers and some media. It was as sad a time as I can recall. I can't say I lead my team through that, but I was as much a teammate at that point as I ever was. We were there for each other, just as we were on the ice.

At the wake after the funeral, spirits were lifting. Pizza and catching up can do that to young people. I was told of how the season just went wrong after I left. Sad as I was to hear it, it was nice to know I didn't suffer alone. They scraped into the play-offs and were eliminated in the first round. I stopped trying and didn't care for hockey anymore. We needed each other.

It was then that a strange coincidence was realized. It was April and the team was in the midst of the seasons wind-up tournament - the biggest one in Winnipeg. In a twist of fate, they had managed to pull it back together and found themselves, to the surprise of all, in the finals the following day. Only one problem - they were now short a player due to death. It was realized that in fact they weren't, because one of them returned, and the ball began to roll to dress a full roster for the finals.

It was frantic. An elbow pad from Bens' older brother. An extra shin pad from Geoff. Skates from Jamies' dad. It all came together quickly. As rag tag and tinged with tragedy as it was, it was ideal - the final game of the year and I was back to help get us the win.

Life is sometimes so perfect. All the shared pain that we experienced over the course of the previous days, weeks and months was now cast aside. There was a task at hand. Win. The arena was electric. Marcels family showed up, along with his little cousin, who was wearing his jersey. I was back in my proper uniform - the only one that ever fit. We were cheered by fans who never existed until that point. Our little story had become known to all in the community and there was a feeling of redemption in the air.

We won. Ironically, we beat the city champs, a team we once owned, and the team that elimianted us from the play-offs. It was syncronicity in it's finest form. I remember the uncomfortable equipment and my tired legs - I hand't played in over a month and hadn't used my heart in any capacity since I left the city. We won. We did it, and for a brief moment in the history of all us, all the pain we had felt was wiped away; it was wiped away with the lifting of the trophy; it was wiped away with the hugs and smiles; it was wiped away when Marcels cousin, in Marcels jersey, took his rightful place in the heart of us at center ice for a picture I'll treasure more than you can imagine.

It stands as one of the best memories I will ever have. It also stands as a motivator. As I enter now into my new love, my new passion, one which finally rivals my days as a Lord Roberts Terrier, I make this vow: I will raise the trophy again. I will win. And I will remember everything that took me to that place. I have the heart once again.

Hey - That's Mine!

2005-09-28T18:14:00.000-04:00

I remember when I was in England I went to this burger shack near Victoria Station in the wee hours of the morning for some late night grub. As I was waiting for my feast to be cooked, and older british man began to berate the burger chef for being Scotish. This was apparantly too much for the old English fellow to handle so he let be known that Scots are the evilest, vilest creatures on earth. My main problem was the burger was not too good.

This is indicative of a much bigger problem. People. Everybody hates everybody. Every localized tension is just a manifestation of the same beahviour that happens everywhere. Conservatives hate Liberals. Arabs hate Jews. Albertans hate everybody while I loathe bad burgers. Humans being animals.

Much of it is territory. What you may percieve to be a political slight is nothing more than a possesion battle. Whereas animals will urinate on posts to mark their territory, humans send their concept of God to regions to mark it as theirs. Yes, Religion has as powerful a stench as cat piss and has killed far more people. When bloated white people see black people as dangerous, they are really just defending the territory that is in reality nobody's to defend, because it is, in all reality, everybodies.

One day something very big, bad and funny will happen and those who survive it will have to look defeatedly into one anothers' eyes and realize it was all a mistake - there was no line - we shared it all the whole time. Mine, yours and theirs was always ours. At that moment, a cat will come and piss on our newfound collectiveness and it will be killed, beheaded and put on display as a warning to all the other cats not to touch what is ours.

ha ha ha ha.......

Turning The Corner

2005-09-27T19:46:00.000-04:00

"I can't get a life if my hearts not in it"

Noel Gallagher - The Importance of Being Idle

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Back on an upswing. Somehow througout all the recent onslaught of good fortunes I was riding a low. Boredom the primary feeling. Boredom is boring. I'm starting to feel a little better as I look up at this mountain - the biggest one I've seen yet and not an ounce of fear in me. Determination bordering on rage is closer to accurate.

A friend of mine once told me I was I either going to kill myself or become rather well known. I never fully understood how either would come to fruition, but always found dying at my own hand the more likely of the two - not because of self-loathing, which I have in no grander levels than anybody else, but because the pointlessnes of life. I figured the only way I could deliver on the positive side of that prophecy was to discover existence as not pointless. That has not been the case.

Life is pointless in the grand scale. Look at the size of existence. It is infinite. The Milky Way is just a speck, making earth much less, and me even smaller. To think I actually matter in the grand scheme of everything, as long as it's been around, is foolish at best. But that got me to thinking another way.

Since none if it does matter, the world I see can be crafted to my whims. There is no point but to enjoy it - and I'm finding that might be enough for me. The world can be molded as your vision sees fit. If you can fathom it, you can do it. Morals play a giant part in the possibility of that vision coming to fruition and seeing the kind of world that lives in your mind become a physical reality as seen through your eyes.

What am I saying? Nothing, I guess. Everything, maybe. The plain of existence I had been living was boring me to absloute tears and the thought of death seemed rather quaint. I had no desire to pursue it but if it caught up to me, so be it. Living was dull. The world I lived in was not mine and I had no desire to continue in it.

No longer. I'm just going to live in mine now. That may mean that more people are going to throw bottles at me. More people may think me an egoist, an arrogant young man. Fine. So be it. I am living for you. I am living for me. I am living because I am here. Kurt Cobain once said "I'd rather be dead than cool". I now have no desire to be dead and an equal yearning to be cool. My only desire and the prime reason for waking up is simply to be alive and play it on my terms.

My heart was not into living. Not the case anymore. Soon my heart, mind and soul will be equal parts and perhaps at that point a prophecy or two will become true.

Don't worry - I don't plan on killing any of you. I'll include myself in that group.

The Scenery is Changing

2005-09-20T16:26:00.000-04:00

If I were to tell you that as I write this sentence that I have any clue what the next one would be, I would be lying. I have no clue what to write, which is peculiar, becuase I am feeling so much. It's finding that line of what is apporopriate to share and what is approporiate to keep, and the gap betwen is what I should say, what I should write and what I should yell to the hills, yell so loud and clear that there can be no doubt of it's emotional authenticity. Or, I can ramble on about not much at all. Not much at all....

There's a meeting today with all the comics and the owner/founder of the company for whom we work with. Should be fun. Meetings of the minds are always good things so long as people remember to bring their minds.

Did a show last night. Was fun. Samll bar. Got to the point of total isolation with people in the audience. Felt nice. Made sure to tell the comics at that point that that was comedic Nirvana. Welcome and play if you may. When all else is lost you might find that all is finally found.

My Dad think the Flames might not repeat this year. It put some fear in me. No, can't think that way. I think he's right. They will not repeat. They will win this time.

My cat is still here. I'm going to miss her. I know she's ready to go at any point, but she still likes to wake up and poke around. That I can see. That I can feel. I know she feels less than great, but still wnats to live, wants to feel love. Funny I can feel these things. I am becoming quite intuitive.

All this I'm writing seems trite and trivial compared to that which I can write. That which I can say and should. And will. I feel like a man now and this here has been the prattle of a boy. No more. Everybody - it's time to stand up and take account for (y)ourselves. The fog of ignornace has cleared and has left a landscape of things that are galring, a land of sore thumbs and nobody is pointing them out. My eyes are adjusting now. Soon, they will be clear and everything will be as it is soon going to be.

ha ha ha ha........

Another Day in Another City

2005-09-19T15:28:00.000-04:00

It's Monday and I'm back in Calgary. Do you know how many times I have written this sentence? In the last week, I have been in Montreal, Edmonton and now Calgary. I go to Saskatchewan on the weekend. Nomadacy, if it is indeed a word, is trying yet quite the adventure.

Edmonton went really well. Not only did the shows go great, I also began to learn how to do something that to me was as foreign and difficult as I could imagine - I started to be smart with my money. Money has always found a way to burn a hole in my pocket and land itself in some cash register. I have been of the mentality that money is like a cement brick in my pocket as I swim across oceans. If I got cash, I spend it. I'm trying to change that and it's working.

Since I was a kid I was like this. Every Christmas, I would get cash from uncles, aunts and grandparents. I would quickly lament the fact that stores were closed on Christmas day. That money HAD to go! If there would have been a jewish corner store, I would have bought menoras and bagels until I was broke. The wait to Boxing Day was a tough one, and a sleep that as a kid was just as troubling as Christmas Eve. This money had to go!

It never really changed. As I got older and started working, that money found a way to get spent quickly, too. Smokes are a great way to spend money every day. Food, too. Money comes in one hand and goes out the other.

Last weekend I found myself budgeted and similarily, my quality of life unaffected by it. I always equated spending with happiness and hording with sadness. Now, I see neither facts are facts. If I want something, I'll buy it. If I want to read, I'll read. No NEED to spend randomly, but I will still buy that which I wish.

Sometimes, these entries can be filed under 'Entertaining' or 'Dull'. I know where I'm puttin this one. My mind is diffirent places and I am having a great deal of trouble getting all my senses and understandings in sync. So much new has been happening to me that it's been trying to take it all in, and not having a home of my own to sort it out in is proving a tad difficult, but worth it. I suppose this is how it's supposed to be right now. Change is a wicked force that is pointless to resist, especially when you're the one who called it on. All this thinking is pissing me off - I'm going to go sit in the sun with my cat.

Back To The World

2005-09-14T18:59:00.000-04:00

Things change. Let that be the lesson. That, and for not much longer shall this blog be a chronicle of MY life. There will be other things to write. It will become a deeper inquiry into living itself.

After having written my last entry, I never did leave that panicked headspace. I was very worried about being fired. I couldn't sleep, couldn't rest and was very anxious. I finally got out of bed at 10:00am after a night of no sleep and walked the street of Montreal. It calmed me down. Bought a Che Guevera book - figured he stuck to his guns, too. As the day went on, a feeling of pride and joy filled me. I did what I wanted to do. I followed my code. Fear aside, in a bind, I knew I had defined myself.

I went to the club that night waiting to get fired, and saw quckly it wasn't going to happen. Nobody actually noticed what I had done. Only me. Made it better. The problem at that point was that I was psyched out and unable to foucs on the new challenge - being in that room at that moment. I was a million miles away from reality AND the moment. I had no idea what to do, so I found a friendly face and said hi - I really need to talk to somebody. It was then that I met my new friend. We started talking and haven't stopped since.

I was to leave Montreal on Sunday morning and it's now Wednesday night and I am still here. My new friend and I get along rather well. I have been brought back not just to the moment, but to a place I haven't seen or been to in ages and I seem to have the same effect on her. Feel I've cut ties with alot of lies that I've been living in.

I don't really want to leave. I don't want to return to the world I knew, so I'm not going to. I will, however, go with the same flow that brought me here and that flow is in Edmonton this weekend, departing way to early tomorrow morning in the shape of an airplane. It will not be the world I knew, because the moment you change, the wolrd changes, and that is revolution. That is evolution. The world I knew is gone and I'm excited to catch a glimpse of this new one.

Go with flow - the queens of the stone age said it best. It was their CD and that song I listened to before I went to the club and talked about a stupid storm. Go with the flow - it's trying to take you somewhere. Go with the flow - I think it's flowing me back here before I've had the chance to leave.

Now What?

2005-09-10T00:49:00.000-04:00

Just got back from the gig. I talked about the hurricane. I had to. Just had to. It was not in disrespect of anything. I just had to, I was terrible tonight. It was in my head the whole time. I felt so constrcited. I couldn't find any flow. I felt held in.

So, I talked about it. I was scared, I'll be honest. But the minute I did, I was right-in to it, Got some applause, too.

So, maybe I'll get fired, which if you look at it from one side seems like a very bad idea. But, you know what - I can look myself in the mirroe and know I am the kind of MAN who stands up for what I believe in.

I never figured it would be like this. Perhaps my path is not what I envisioned - or maybe it's exactly as it should be.

This is what I wrote listening to Queens of the Stone Age 'Songs For the Deaf'

2005-09-09T20:21:00.000-04:00

I am at my home for the moment - a condo on Ste. Catherines in dowtown Montreal. Weird to be without a home, but it's only strange when I think of it, which isn't as often as you'd think. Figure I'm going to land somewhere. All roads are open and I can go as I please. Blah, blah, blah - no heart yet, eh?

Can't help but think of the irony of being displaced at the same time as New Orleaners. I feel like I'm one of them in away. I even recently got some free cash from bank people, too. They want it back, I'm sure, but....

I've been rerading alot about what's happening down there and it's pretty sick. Not sick in what the Hurricane did - that's how it goes, fellow earthlings - but in the reaction of people. It has never been more obvious that government in ANY capacity serves nothing other than itself. Perhaps this will be the first step towards dismantling the modern day concept of government.

If you don't understand it, please let me make it clear - They do not want us. We are in the way of them making more money. We aren't even worth a vote anymore, they can fabricate those. It is more important to the American government to develop Oil fields in the middle east than to save it's own people from certain death. Those of you who believed in the sanctity of the political system can't help but to now see it as it is. Self-serving businessmen who's chief and prime reasons of being is to hoard and pillage from all. They are the pirates, my friends. The criminals are not just running the banks, the criminals are printing the money.

Untold amounts of people died for no other reason than because nobody cared to save them. Yes, there were people who were willing. The people who have real heart and real minds, the people who see that life is a gift, not an entity you can buy or steal. But they don't hold the reins of power for some reason. The ones who do didn't care. Condoleeza Rice was shoe-shopping in New York three days after the storm ended. When your cousin was drowning, George Bush was sleeping.

If, at your job, the roof started to leak just before you were to go home, and you left rather than mopping up, you would get in trouble from your boss. That the same standards are not applied to supposed 'leaders' is sickening, and I blame everybody.

What's worse is the finger pointing for political gain. Yes, in politics, this is an opportunity to sound like a leader of men. Good time to get your picture taken with a black kid. Hell, even in Canada, our leader Martin I did a press conference in Nova Scotia declaring his allegiance to blah, blah, blah, vote for me.

Yes, somebody is to blame for this. Not Mother Nature. Storms happen. Doesn't help to build cities under sea-level beside the sea, either (listening, Amsterdam?). It is a much broader problem.

This is everybody's fault. Your fault. My fault. EVERYBODY"S FAULT. We have allowed this happen right under our eyes. We never yelled loud enough when an election was stolen. We never stopped and said 'What?' when we were told that there are terrorists running around trying to blow us up. The greatest source of fanatsy is not Hollywood or Winnipeg, it's the belief that compliance is the way. Observe no law that is isn't yours. Make no mistake - it's us against them, and they don't care how many die.

Now, here's your question, reader. Are we gonna die in the next one, or are we going to change it? The answer is yours to give.

Yup, pretty heady stuff today. I'm constipated with good ideas in my head. I'm not allowed to talk about the Hurricane onstage here. Being censored and I don't feel to good about it. I am in a moral dilemna about it. I'm also censoring myself as a result. Been thinking too much about too much.

Not tonight. No way in hell. I got a microphone tonight and I intend to use it.

Calgary Flames Season Preview

2005-09-06T18:01:00.000-04:00

Shilling out for 'The Man'. Read it if you like hockey, pass if not.

---------

And so it begins, the much anticipated return of the Calgary Flames. After having an entire season wiped out due to a labor disruption, the green light is finally on for the defending Western Conference Champions to take the last step they were unable to take last time there was hockey played: To win the Stanley Cup.

Never has a season been met with such optimism as this upcoming campaign. The parched mouths of play-off starved hockey fans in Calgary were finally quenched with a dream run that fell just short of the ultimate goal of hoistings Lord Stanley's Mug; A goal, that to that point in Southern Alberta, was just as far-fetched as having a Liberal provincial government. The Calgary Flames managed to capture the heart and minds of it's citizens with their hard-nosed style, garnering for themselves a Western identity that fans and non-fans alike could relate with.

That was then and this is now. The onset of the most anticpiated NHL season in recent memory is upon us, and the Flames have stocked up to ensure that last season's sucess is not a one-shot deal. Armed with a new Collecive Bargaining Agreement, the Flames went shopping in the off-season, adding talent and experience that, under the old rules of hockey businees, were simply un-attainable. Joining the already formidable team is proven goal-scorer and Daryl Sutter disciple Tony Amonte; Power-play quarterback and Defensive stalwart Roman Hamrlik, as well as gritty power-forward Darren McCarty. Those, combined with last off-season acquisitions Daymond Langkow and super prosepct Dion Phanuef have Flames fans thinking that those once foolish dream of hosting a Stanley Cup Parade down 17th avenue may not be so far-fetched after all.

So, as we begin all over again, we remember that every journey has its begining, and this ones' start is training camp. There are no gurantees in hockey, no birth-rites, and should the Calgary Flames take that last step, it will be one earned, not handed to them. We in the FlameNation eagerly await their progress and will do all the encouraging our well-rested vocal-chords can offer as we prepare for the winter and the ride they will take us on.

Influenced by Oasis

2005-09-06T16:50:00.000-04:00

It feels rather weird to be sitting here in this house again. Calgary is good, it's nice to be here again, but this time I feel a sense of restlesness. I know that I gotta go somewhere - but where? Well, one step at a time. Off to Montreal tomorrow for some comedy and adventure.

Things here are fine, I suppose. I did an open mike last night at a bar that years ago hosted a show where me any my peers that began together played weekly. Weird to be back there. Quite odd to see how the future and the past can happen in the exact same place.

It felt VERY good to be onstage these last few days. That which I was lamenting about not so long ago has ceased to be a problem and I seem to have broken through it. Turns out all you've got to do is say what you've got to say. I am going to repeat that sentiment. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS SAY WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY. I am of the impression that that fact pertains to many other circumstances and scenarios than comedy.

Even in my dreams now I am free. I used to be tormented by a sick sense of compliance in my dreams. I was usally working against my will, which is not to diffirent from my reality or that of many others. Not so much anymore. Just last night, I quit the baseball team after I hit a monstrous homerun. I just walked away. I recall that I was being looked for but knew I would never be found - and not becuase I would hide well, but because there were so many places to go. That's a good dream.

It's sad when people aren't alive. When they live a life that isn't theirs on their time. My old roomate in Toronto was like that. He, of the house I left abruptly, is in 'Show Business', which, by the way, is the biggest crock of shit going. Mr. Darren, as I will call him, used his professional pursuits as his sole defining value of self. Many others in 'Show Business' do the same thing. Mr. Darren never saw the real world, the one which we all live in whether we are aware of it or not. In my time there, Mr. Darren would frequently ask for a demo-tape of my comedy, would show me resumes of people he knew who had done things that apparantly I was supposed to care about. All would be fine if we were in the business world, but we weren't. We were at 'home'. When you are at home, you ask how your days were and how you feel. It isn't a place to gauge ones' professional success or ones' worth to ones' professional pursuits. Mr. Darren is a shadow of a man who may yet succeed in his professional pursuits, and I wish him no ill-will, but the void he feels that always compels him to compare 'resume' sizes will always leave him on the short end of the stick, as will all others' who fail to see that life is the event ITSELF, not the pointless pieces that build it. The pieces are to be enjoyed, but never forgotten that none would be if not for the presence of life.

I am not in show business. I am not an artist. I am not a comic or a writer or anything by definition. I'm a man who is, until the day I die, just going to say what I have to say. Wonder how much cash is in this?

Out West For The Harvest

2005-09-01T16:14:00.000-04:00

Back to the place I'm at my happiest - on the go. Looking forward to this one. It's a tad strange to be leaving this place, though. This house has been my favorite one yet and leaving is a little disappointing. Packing up my stiff didn't have the thrill that it usually does. But, I knew moving in here that it was only until September, and my stand-up work was right there to pick me up where this house dropped me off.

I'm leaving with a good perspective. Ran into my England friends, whom last I'd seen the night before I left London. Funny how life works sometimes. It reminded me of the one thing I had forgotten - the reason I came here. To get back to England. Seeing that made this leg of my Toronto days a complete succes. I am stronger, better, leaner and meaner than when I arrived here, and all this is beniffiting (fuck spell check, that's how I spell it) my cause. Much work to do and another Toronto leg is required, but the mind remembers the goal. And then, after England.....

Still, leaving here is, for the first time, not awesome. My departures are often sprints away from a mess I care not to tend to. This is not the case this time. All is well and on the way to being even better, and getting to the West - for work, nontheless - is hardly a step in the wrong direction. Unless it is, in which case I'm fucked.

So, see stay tall, CN Tower, you asshole. Check you soon Queen street, you dirty bastard, you. And stay cool, Subway gates that I often sneak past. I'll see you in a bit, and it's up to me the capacity in which that occurs.

"Wake up Maggie, I Think I Got Something To Say To You"

2005-08-30T16:04:00.000-04:00

Time to get my brain going.

This has turned into a journal of sorts - not the initial plan when the directive "Go write, young man" was issued. I'm more of a private person than I end up being, should that make any sense. The fact that this is written eight feet from my bedroom and read by lord-knows how many people is something that has taken me aback in some ways. I neevr intended to share me with this many people. Probably only going to get worse - better?

I woke up today far later than I could have after staying up far later than I should have. My bedroom is in half-organized piles of possesions which I am struggling to pack up. As best I can tell, there is no use for me to still be here, yet I am. Sometimes you should look into the things that hold you up, and I'm trying to see why I'm still sitting at my pile of life and wondering just why I haven't moved it yet.

Not sure what other frontiers there are here at this moment to pursue. My friend and I hit a 'Who's who of what's what' event last night. Intoxicated, unshaven, unironed and uninterested, sporting my revolution hat, I wondered why I was there. It was something of a statement to everyone - self included - that I belong but at the same time, not at all. As I was swaying there, my friend called me to tell me that he was surrounded by crows. Without knowing why, I felt the same way. There I felt on the perimiter of the murder, but of a diffirent kind.

So, as I woke up today, Maggie May was stuck in my head. I know I have to get going. But, then I arose, walked around, and settled in for another day. Another day of what? Another day to share what I'm thinking, another day to be in a place I think I'm done with for the moment. Another day to wonder why I haven't gone. Still - I'm free. I know this.

So, it's not even late-September, but boy, I feel like I'm being used, feel like I was taken away from a home I've never really had and certain I have no more jokes to laugh at. I can't even try anymore, but I'm here - but I don't feel too sad about it.

I Blog, Therefore I am

2005-08-29T04:38:00.000-04:00

Seems I struck a chord with people and advertisers with my last post. Ripping off Shakespeare seems to get attention for some reason. And, since there is no such things as bad publicity, I thought I'd hack from another well-known thinker for this one and see what I get. Anyways, much to say, and this intro paragraph is covering none of the bases.

Had an interesting conversation with a friend tonight. The question was what would the school teachers and bosses from the past think of our comedy shows. At first, I started laughing. My past is full of be-wildered old employers and frustrated science teachers whom watched in half-awe as I cruised seemingly aimlessly through their space on their watch. My only goal was to do enough to not get fired or fail, and if I did, big deal - I simply didn't care. These people would watch me onstage and laugh now, I believe. Alot would make sense to them and perhaps help them to understand why I was always absent mentally or physically.

Then I started thinking about the rare exceptions. The school teacher who saw the real me and challenged me to be better and the boss who knew I existed outside the realm of cheap labor and thought? How would they react? What would perenially patient Mr. Dolan think? What would Darryl, the psychic McDonalds manager see? Food for fodder.

I have come to conclude that they would expect more. I am in many ways in stand-up the same I was anywhere else. Without a care. These two mentors-of-sorts never allowed me to get away with what I did because they knew I could do more. I at the time didn't know and wouldn't have cared to have heard, either. "Good enough is good enough for me"

Well, now I am starting to care a bit. I remember in Journalism class being critiqued not for my writing, but for my thinking. I remember being chastised at McDonalds not for freezing the drive-thru in winter, but for being frozen in the face of real life. I have let both skills slide considerably since their tutalege ended.

I have been blessed in my life to have many people stop me, look me in the eye and ask me what I was doing. Many people who pulled me aside and asked where the real me was and when I was intending on being him. When would I allow my potential to by my present. Perhaps now is the time to put into motion that aspect of me. To use my mind as I can and not to prattle on about ugly children, drinking and fisting the monarchy - although I am proud of that one, as I think they would be, too. To use my mind and not to rely on drinking and other activities that lead to ugly children; Then maybe, just maybe, with work and discipline, I can metaphorically fist all 'royalty' along the way.

I guess it comes down to I want to be proud of something more and begin to let the thinkier parts of me take the reins for a bit, and let the drunken fool have his rest.

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I was thinking of ways to tie this in to last idea, but couldn't, so here it is. I love Hurricanes. LOVE THEM!! Destruction!! Not by man!! I love it when mother nature boots us in the ass. Yes - I'll be proper for a moment. It's sad that all these people will lose their homes and liveli.....ah.... who cares! DESTRUCTION! Go Earth! It's guilt-free entertainment. One day, I hope to see on first hand. I can see cocky me strutting into my hotel with CD's and a big grin, and ten minutes after the wind kicks in, crying like a baby in the fetal position wondering why I chose to max my credit card on this. How awesome would that be?

Bring it on, Spammers.

A Blog Entry Is Still A Blog Entry By Any Other Name

2005-08-27T03:53:00.000-04:00

It's days like these you don't look forward to but have to reach. I learned that, I think.

Today was a big day in terms of my life on this earth. You see, in the course of the last several weeks, there has been something of an allignment of, well, stuff. The adventure I began on several years ago seemed to reach something of a zenith. The end result of many of my sacrafices and efforts seemed to all cough up at once in front of me, producing for the first time in recalled history of myself, achievement, reward and opportunity.

But, then a funny thing happened.

Having reached this first real step, first success, I found myself with a strange feeling. What? The same feeling of empty that I had before, now minus the illusion of 'saving graces'. The goals I had set for myself were also the standards that I set for myself as happiness. Although there is a sense of accomplishment and pride in me, there is also a couple of realizations. One: much, much more to go. Two: and more importantly - there weren't the answer or the solution, and neither is more.

And then another funny thing happened.

Life went on. It doesn't stop when your world does. The bills stills need to be paid and the plans still have to be made and the sun still rises and falls, but you don't, not in the same way.

Tonight I had a show. Downtown club. Late show. The man at the helms was coming down. I spent the day relaxing, listening to music. New Credit Card in action, no money concerns to think of. A day doesn't get much better than that. I should've killed. Those factors are the sum of an excellent equation as a comic. It should've been enough for me to at least mentally show up, but I didn't. Scripted and aloof, I chugged through 7 minutes of solid placation. Ball not so much dropped as dead to the idea of catching it and having no clue why to, anyways. Sadly, I have learned to fake it and it was acceptable, but both parties agreed something is amiss.

And then life went on again.

I have come to learn that my old ways were all dead-ends. All my dreams came to fruition, and the saying 'Be Careful What You Wish For' is true. Life becomes bigger as you get older and the things that looked so big years ago now seem trivial in comparison. I got to see where I was headed and think that it would be wise now to put up a diffirent sail. I have to choose new ways. I have to have better reasons. I have to take joy in the moment. But the eye must still focus on a goal....

That's what's hard about living. You always think you're doing the right thing until the moment you find out you're wrong. How else to learn but to learn?

And then life still goes on. I have accomplished things and look forward to continiuing. I guess I am now realizing that this phase is ending and the new one is going to look much diffirent. It's just weird to know you have to move past all the things you know, becaue if life goes on, so too, must you...

Pimping Brett Martin

2005-08-26T04:42:00.000-04:00

I might be in your city soon making fun of things. Here's where and when. All are at your local Yuk Yuks unless otherwise noted.

September 7-10: Montreal - The Comedy Nest (Maybe Karla Homoloka will show up)
September 15-17: Edmonton (Too far from mall to max credit card)
September 23: Saskatoon (Dreams do come true)
September 24: Regina (Saskatchewan's New York)
September 30-Oct 1: Cranbrook (On the bright side it's a short drive)
October 4-8: Calgary (Return home....again)
October 11: Lethbridge (Sometimes it's for the money)
October 13: Fairview (Nine hours of driving for audience of Harley Mechanics)
October 14-15: Grande Prairie (Who would live there?)
October 20-22: Vancouver (Gonna pee in the ocean and an elevator)

Jokes aside I'm excited to be at all of the above. Look for me at the Saddledome and dozens of gas stations throughout.

I'll post more dates and location should they come.

Waves Along The Way

2005-08-26T03:11:00.000-04:00

Wish I could write something now of interest or inisght, something of clear purpose and honesty, but I don't seem to think I can. This is when it's a good idea to at least try, though. Maybe this will be the most insightfully written piece I will ever produce. Maybe I'll just fill sentences with words that will make it sound complex and deep with a touch of the mystic for the sheer imagery of it all simply to make it look as if I actually do have something to say, said it, and did it all as harmoniously and poetic as ever.

I feel like I've splashed upon a new land. A mighty wave took me away, a wave that I was riding for weeks - in other ways, years - full of intense stimuli and experiences. I just enjoyed the wave and never thought about the possibility of land. Think I forgot about land, too. Now that I've crashed ashore, I realize the wave taught me all I need to know for this land, but I have to do it myself. The tide I was on rolled back to the sea. I wonder to myself how big this island is.

My head is blurry with confusion at the bounty of opportunity that sits just ahead. There are endless amounts of options and I am taken a little aback at it all. Feel as if there's a pressure to make some choices; not sure if there isn't justified reason to think that.

My world - as truly as yours is too, readers of this sentence - is in my hands. I have run out of places to hide it and now find myself staring at it as it rotates in my palm curious as to what I want from it. I have inclings but not yet the full knowledge and thus luxury of saying 'That's it'. I feel the time to choose is soon, and the moments ine between are begining to me to look as wasted time, understanding now the gift and potential of what life actually is.

The longest part of the marathon is always the end. The last lap the most draining and the final ten push-ups the most painful, so I expect this to be the case here as well. This should be draining. It's the revolution of a person - something every one is capapble of. To become the person inside you, the person that you want to be for no reason that becuase that's who you are. Marching to the beat of your drummer rather than the dull, vague pounding of a collective set of ideals. It's not simple, but every small vibration of your own beat you can pick up makes every thirsty night spent in the desert worth it. Then one day, you find the ocean that is you. At that point, you can be the one sending waves all over the world.

Guess I rode myself into this, so no anger and no regrets. Just a Cowboy hat, some militaristic clothing and a bag or two of everything I didn't throw away on the way here. What will I build? I should get this sand out of my eyes first.

Maybe Everything Happens

2005-08-23T02:38:00.000-04:00

My friend Dan from the United States of America is here and things are fun. It's a visit that essentially started today as we walked kilometer after kilometer taking in the city in which I apparantly live.

It started at the Hockey Hall of Fame. It's the one temple in which worship is not anything of a problem. I believe in all I see and bow down to the power of those that are enshrined. I saw, and showed, all possible pieces of memorabilia that had soemthing to do with the Winnipeg Jets or the Calgary Flames. The Jets, for the hockey-impaired, were my home town team and my first love. We touched the Stanley cup, breaking a vow I had promised myself. I didn't want to touch it until I earned it. In an odd way, I feel as I have. We did some play-by-play, fulfilling another dream of mine, and engaged in a friendly competition that my ultra-competetive nature would not let me lose nor celebrate quietly. It was followed by visiting the Canadian Walk of Fame and talking abstract hypothetical with a hooker. An inspirational, enjoyable day.

It's nice to have a friend who challeneges you to be something better than you are. Some people recieve that trait poorly; I know first hand, there is much similar in me and my American visitor. I'm really enjoying the visit. It lasts another day and I wonder what trouble we can create for ourselves in a city like this.

Then there was America itself. It was great. It opened up, in my mind, the realization that something very big is that close to me in more than just a geographical way. There is, in reality, no line between Canada and America, as there is also no line anywhere else. Lines, metaphorical fences and obstacles are all creations of the mind. The only barrier is will. Cross that 'line' and find that is was all there the whole time.

All in all, the change that I was seeking from the heavens above seemed to be in my hands the whole time. The work will be real. It will be hard, but in every way worth it. This struggle ends but the real difficult work begins. Who am I to complain, though? As two shrines of greatness and a prostitute showed me today, some heart and alot of effort will get you to where you need and wish to be.

Dying Skin and a Re-born Heart

2005-08-22T03:51:00.000-04:00

My little America trip was fantastic. I was hoping I could sit down here and write about it all, but I currently find myself in a head-space that is more inrtigued by a callous-y blister on the base of my left pinky finger that any new adventure I took and the new path it showed me. It's dead-skin sort of creating, now.

I watched a movie called 'Grand Canyon' tonight that I really rooted for but disappointed me in the end. It's from around 1990, so well before they invented the DVD that they should have thought twice about formatting it onto. It features Steve Martin, Danny Glover and Kevin Kline. Now, usually, Danny Glover and Kevin Kline are enough for me to not rent whatver it is that I'm considering (except Pure Luck, that is) but this came highly recomended by a friend who won't teach me how to spell certain verbs.

It's about life and yadda, yadda, yadda. Two and a half hours of being preached a simple message that could have been condensed into ten minutes - and, should you ask, I have set the timer on this piece to 9:57. One thing did strike me, though. Steve Martin - who is my favorite non-related Martin - plays a movie producer who creates ultra-violent films. Go carnage! He's a very smart man, too. He tells his friend in the movie that films, done correctly, help to solve the little riddles of life. To me, very true. A movie like Magnolia helped me to answer many questions I had. What 'Grand Canyon' failed to solve, however, is the great debate of why I should have sat down for two and half hours of schlock (just came up with that word - understand it or fuck you) when my bed and books were 10 seconds away. Choices, they say.....

I talked to one of my roomates tonight for quite awhile - one of the two that does not do comedy (I call then human beings) and spent the night forgetting about anything outside the realm of being alive. It was nice. I found I have not really spoke too much with them. I have been absent alot, not just physically, which is odd, because I sincerely like them. It's been a learning process. Living with two beautifully wonderful women has been man-making. The role of roomate to relative stranger is diffirent relationship than most I have encountered. There is no bond other than the fact that you share the place you live in, which as you learn, is a big fucking bond. We've all been very friendly and a cohesive unit, but a unit that had boundaries, and tonight they started to come down. Funnily enough, I 'move out' (please, don't ask, I'm still figuring out myself) in 17 days, so it's a case of not-so-little, not-so-late. Most importantly of my time here is the fact that the girls opened their door to me, a complete stranger who left his house in mid-day for no definative reason, and have allowed me to blossom in their humble abode without ever making me feel like it wasn't mine, too. This house has been a man incubator for me, and all under the secure eyes of two wonderful girls who never wanted anything more from me than to be. I love them. Thanks.

OKAY - no more nicey stuff. Time to get racist. Oh, shit, the timer is up to 9:54....

The Calgary Flames

2005-08-18T05:03:00.000-04:00

I have to admit I have a crush on a hockey team. The Calgary Flames. As a whole. Is that weird? This is getting stupid. I wrote my last piece, signed out, then started reading online information about them and digesting any information I could intake. I'm stalking them. This is getting ridiculous - and fun.

Let me first explain the facts at hand. They're fucking awesome. Nothing pleases me like seeing something, anything, struggle like that franchise as a whole did - and then to turn around and come so, so close to the pinnacle. They just missed, and that, as a whole, is the story and the ensuing chip on the shoulder that this team will be defined by. Will they take that ONE extra step? Take some time in the winter and check it out - what the taste of desire and denial can do to a unit - and think of what it would do to you. I am fueled by a similar equation.

That's one part of it. The other part is it's just so mindlessly fun to be a fan. Sports is an absolute. If your team wins - they are better. Unless they lose, that is, in which case the other team still sucks, anyways. Logic is of no consequence in the world of sports-fannery. The Vancouver Canucks and Edmonton Oilers suck and nothing can change that fact. You show me 100 Stanley Cups and you still suck. Why? Because I like the Calgary Flames. I'd take a Steve Begin and three Rick Tabaracci's before I'd consider a Wayne Gretzky. Trevor Linden has scabies, Chris Pronger is washed up and all the while Daryl Sutter makes Einstein look like a man who was kicked in the head by mules.

And there'e the way they won. Not on %100 talent (although that'll change this year) but on grit, heart, and wanting it more that anything and anyone else, except Tampa Bay, I guess, who - although they really suck, too - cheated.

All aside, there a great allegory for life. Come close, take the time you need, then zero in, because nobody's gonna stop you if you don't stop yourself. Yep - I love the Calgary Flames, and I oh, so hope they invite me to the dance

The Diffirence Between Real and Inconsequential

2005-08-18T04:01:00.000-04:00

Pretty funny day, today. I may have ended up getting a credit card, which to me is good news. It's not the VISA I'd prefer to have, but it's the one I'll take - as will many corner beer stores. Heh heh. And record stores. Heh heh. Truthfully, it'll be nice to have a financial parachute that I can pull for myself. It's like a money life-jacket, and the kind of people at my financial institute have made fans of me - until the first day to pay, that is.

Had a fun show at the local YUK YUKS tonight. Just felt like hacking out there. Fuck you. Anyways, it was neat-o. I had no desire to 'give it' so as soon as I walked up, I made light of a girl in the front row who was unhappy. She just was so frowny. So, I asked her the basic why and how, then I gave her some flowers from another girl at another table. Then I rambled on about my potential credit card and made fun of religion. Good times. I ended up going long, as the manager told me not long after I walked off. I said I was sorry. He said, 'No you're not', smiled and walked away. I was laughing. Not only was he right, he was cool as hell about it. Good people, some of these people.

On the way to the club, my friends (yup - two of them) and I seperated at the Subway and raced to the next show on diffirent subway paths. I won the race. Felt good to compete, although I have to admit I have little control over the speed of trains I'm not driving. It showed to me that I am the master navigator (yes, naviagtor) and enjoyed my cheap sensation of victory. Although I got THERE quicker, I got to where I was going on time.

Then a cap off at a bar, which is becoming oh, so tedious. I can be in a full bar and still see wall-to-wall. That's a transparant joke if you didn't catch it. Must I explain everything? I have never noticed how many people name-drop in the course of conversation. It's some cheap plea for acceptance and pathetic attempt to gather some sense of self-worth that is derived from nothing more than a name recognition. As if I would care who you know - unless it's Jarome Iginla, in which case that's SO FUKCING AWESOME! Angelina Jolie and Mick Jagger. Do you love me now?

And now I stay awake because things are good now. That's another reason for my insomnia. Sometimes is caffeine and gut-wrenching angst that keep me up, but other times it's nothing more than enjoying the after-glow of achievement and sitting back and thinking that, yeah, maybe all the steps were the right ones and why, oh why, would you ever want to sleep when you can feel like that instead?

Out Of Body Experience & Other Things Deemed To Be Bullshit

2005-08-16T15:43:00.000-04:00

I had an out-of-body experience the other day. I was sitting on my couch, taking in an intense spiritual conversation with my friend when it happened. I just sorta rose from within. It was like I stood, but my physical stayed seated. I never believed in that before that point, despite hearing on several accounts from many people that it happens. I thought it to be bullshit, but it's not. It's actually quite nice, and I intend on doing it again.

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Proximity is the trait I find most attractive in women. I think that is everybody's dearest trait in a potential mate. Can't dig something you've never seen or are not around. Whether proximity is at the bi-product of a random universe or supplied through divine Providence is up to you, beloved reader, to determine. Just think the next time you find yourself fancying a potential partner, which factor is of higher importance in your desire than proximity?

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I like walking in this city, but it's got no soul. Everybody is in an enormous rush to get somewhere, anywhere. I have made less eye contact in Toronto than anywhere I can recall, and I've been to Moose Jaw. The people of Toronto are all business oriented. Living seems to have fallen to the wayside on the list of importance, somewhere behind sneering and handing out business cards. For the record, I have always sneered myself and find trace levels of comfort in it.

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Flames are gonna win the Cup this year. My connection and bond with this hockey team is bordering on strange.

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I'd love to make a 'To-not-do list'. Everyday I'd get the sensation of accomplishment as I'd stare at the endless list of everything I vowed not to not undertake. What better feeling than knowing it's Tuesday and I already didn't mow the lawn this week.

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My mind gets all thinky when I'm up all day......

AM Thinking, FN Computers

2005-08-16T11:29:00.000-04:00

Son of a bitch. I just wrote a fucking thesis on depression and the computer miscomputed. It's the second major entry on the subject that I've tried to post on here in the last couple of days that has, for some unknown reason, failed to make it online. The Universe must be telling me to shut the fuck up and move on.

Anyways, to coles-note it, I was in MAJOR funk, had a cry, got out of it. Much more emotionally invloved that that, but that's the gist. Moving on....

I'm going to Michigan this weekend. I have never been and am excited. I have no idea what to expect from it. I'm doing a show and am happy to meet, a little ahead of schedule, the populous that I shall rag the hell out of for years to come. Bring it on, America, I'm coming for YOU! I picture myself as Uncle Sam as I write that.

No shows here to speak of in the short-term. Just stuff to get done. Baby steps to take to keep the feet moving. I used to do thse things out of a perverse sense of fear that if I didn't, chaos would reign and I would probably die. Now, I just want to. I just want to keep going forward.

The Taber school killer just escaped from his parole house two blocks away from my house. Yes, somewhere lose on the streets of my fair city lurks a mad killer with a fine eye for corn. Maybe I'll pass on my Flames hat for the next day or two. I don't want to remind him of Alberta - I'm sure he's a little sensitive on the topic.

I'd write more, but damn if I'm not a little peeved about those two posts. They probably would have garnered me a Peabody or something, but everything happens for a reason, and that likely to notify that as well and dandy as it to talk and write about getting over depression, no action serves to better one's mind that to act.

Titles are Useless

2005-08-14T16:54:00.000-04:00

It's Sunday and I slept most of it. My sleep pattern has gone into over-strange. I sleep when I wish to and don't if I don't. It has led me to some long nights, short days and more than one all-nighter.

Kingston was good, although it's a struggle to say just how. It was unconventional in every possible manner yet still it worked. I gave myself an encore and broke the fourth wall with the MC - and I still feel like digging deeper. Something is brewing.

I'm going to Michigan next week. I'm doing a show in Port Huron, which if you look on a map, is located right near the place where your dreams come true. I'm excited to get my shot at America. I figure the day will come in the not so distant future where America will be my primary market place, so I best be meeting the folks now.

This writing is forced, I'll tell you. I have no clear idea of anything at this point. I find myself acting on the purest level of instinct that I have and every other frivolous word, action and thought seems thrown aside. As I said, something is brewing, and a calmness has descended upon me.

I have nothing else to say.

Goodwill

2005-08-11T11:57:00.000-04:00

So I'm back in Toronto and have become a bit of a morning person. I have been up since 8:30 and, despite a yearning for a nap, will stay up until my 'thang' is done. I'm learning that it's ALOT more relaxing to wake up early and quietly and peacufully go about my day than is to sleep-in and rush through it. Who would have thought a cure for the apparant lazy act of sleeping in is something that makes you that much more sedate?

I see the gound-work that I've been doing is starting to yeild some results, but my enthusiasm is tempered with the knowledge that if everything were to stop now, my crop would be a bust. That said, I can see the change, and it's nice.

One of the changes in my life has been my, er, looks. You're not supposed to notice things like this, but my improved appearance has been resulting in some unseen-to-this-point behaviour. I was buying corn the other day, and the corn-lady gave me two free cobs and a bonus smile. The gift of corn was not an isolated incident. Gotta stop saying corn. My presence is now a blip on several radars and, as entertaining a change as it is, the part of me that will always be me is watching it with detatched amusement. Funny - still feel like me.

You're also not supposed to say things like this, but I'm going to. I was coming home on the Subway yesterday from the airport when an individual selected to sit beside me. She was in her late forties, and may of had a mild retardation. After a few stops, she proceeded to read a pamphlet which caused her left elbow to dig into my right stomach area. Not painful, but as annoying a senstaion as I have felt. For several stops, frustration and rage mounted within. It was a serious breach of public transit etiquette. You don't touch anybody. But, she was kinda retarded, so what could I do? I sat and stewed. Felt like a catch-22. If I say something like "Get your goddamn elbow off me, I fucking hate it", I'm the rude guy who yells at mentally handicapped people in public. If I let it slide, I'm the waif that allows life to trample on my liberty. Areas of grey are for pussies. I couldn't win.

In the end, even being bothered by it is not something I'm supposed to say, but I'm going to and already have. My indignation is at the barbarity of the situation in which I was placed, leaving me with no recourse but to stand-up and walk away, because what heartless beast of an individual can look at a supposedly inferior being and ask it to stop doing what it's doing? But who am I to complain? Elbow in the midsection? That's the biggest sign. She wanted me and I'm damn honored.

Actually having some fun again.....

As Close To Nirvana As I've Been

2005-08-09T04:46:00.000-04:00

Wow. The Foo Fighters concert was something else. It transcended simply being a concert into whole diffirent realm. Without a doubt, the best display of rock and roll I have ever seen. I am really happy and privilaged to have seen it.

For those of you who don't know, the Foo Fighters are a rock band fronted by Dave Grohl, the former drummer of Nirvana, whom are easily regraded as the most important rock band in a decade. After the suicide of singer/songwriter Kurt Cobain, Dave Grohl didn't stop. Just a little over a year later, he released his first album with his new band, and with it, continued what is one of the best stories anywhere, let alone rock.

Grohl sat back as Cobain spilled every ounce of what he was into his music, and what Cobain was, was pure fury. Nirvana was less of a band that they were an emotion, an attitude that destroyed everything that was near it, and sadly, Cobain was the final victim. It would have been so simple to walk away after witnessing all of that. To forget it all, to find a new way, whatever way it is that leads you away from that sort of result. Grohl never did. He not only re-built, he not only survived, he has thrived and found something far beyond nirvana, and on Monday, he shared with 15,000 people. I was honored to be one.

The concert was, from the first note, an exercise in energy. He made rock fun. Rock can - and often times should - be dark. But not for the Foo's. It's non-stop, head shaking FUN rock and roll. I sat there and was brought to life by the music.

What impressed me the most was to see Grohl. I had followed Nirvana very closely and always imagined how difficult and intense it all must have been. And then, to see one of the members not only rise from the ashes, but surpass what has been done, is a story in achievement that has not been told enough. Dave Grohl went to the edge, saw it and came back to make the most positive rock I can imagine.

Life goes on, and if we're lucky enough, we can go along with it. Seeing expamples like him make me even more compelled to see what lays ahead - and to make the changes to get there.

In Lieu of Interesting

2005-08-08T17:14:00.000-04:00

I crashed a wedding last night, somewhat. My friend called me and asked to meet up with him at a wedding which he, too, was not technically an invited guest at. I thought it rude to turn down the offer. Life imitates fiction, I suppose.

It was a nice reception held in a country club. I felt a little akward strolling in, but got used to it as I made my rpunds. My attire of blue jeans and ripped shoes with a wrinkled shirt felt to me to be perfect. The unkempt revolution continues!

To make things funnier, I ran into a friends step-sister and we had a laugh at my uninvited presence. It reminded me to call her brother and ask how he was doing. All in all, the bride was beautiful, I never ended up identifying the groom, the beers were tatsy and I really regret that I didn't sign the guest book.

I'm going to the Foo Fighters tonight. I am very, very excited for it. I have been reading reviews of them in the paper, and all reports seem to indicate that the concerts are %100 rock and roll all the way through. ROCK ENERGY FUEL ME!

And all else remains fine. I can feel that much is happening now and I find myself oddly calm in the eye of it. I'm enjoying my time again.

Almost Home

2005-08-07T18:45:00.000-04:00

As the weekend draws to an end here, so too, does my vacation. I have the big event, yet, the Foo Fighters concert, which is on Monday, and then another wave of good-byes and see you soons'.

It's been nice to be back. I have learned much about myself this time through. I have been blessed with the gift of both time and distance in order for me to properly dissect what is new about me and what is diffirent about here. Much has changed on both fronts.

My new demeanor has gotten a good test-drive. Yet again, it has been misread as attitude or arrogance, but it remains neither. There is a virtue to silence, at least for me. I watch quietly, and realize that perhaps my 'new' ways are actually my real ways, and the time is nearing for me to follow that path into the unknown. To call it a new direction would be untrue, but to say I must soon follow another calling is a tad of an understatement. It is my future, and I am gathering the strength to navigate it now that I realize that much of my old life will not accompany me on it.

I hit a new level of understanding on stage as well, that has, of course, left me wondering. I frequently day-dream about being on-stage. I find myself thinking ahead of what it may be like. Just yesterday, I was in my conjuring up and image of me doing a show, and then reasing my arms, and the audience erupts. Last night, then, while doing my show, I did a joke and there was this buzz after. Somewhere between the end of a laugh, but nowhere near done enjoying the joke. I raised my left arm, and they erupted. Dreams come true, apparantly. Now to figure out how to bring life to the rest of them.

And, so, now it's Sunday night. I'm looking forward to going home, knowing full well that I have three weeks left in my house while figuring at the same time that my real home is not too far in the distance.

Summer Vacation

2005-08-02T17:51:00.000-04:00

I am currently on a summer vacation. First one in years. I'm not really relaxing, though. I'm getting ready for autumn and the start of a new comedy season - one where I'm going to raise signifigantly my game and my value in the market. Confidence is not a sin.

It's been fun so far. I went river-rafting yesterday. I have never done anything like that before. Very, very fun and peacfeul. The current just takes you while you just sit and relax, hands and toes dangling into the fresh water while you soak up the sun and make of-color jokes about things you should never speak of. There is something extremely satisfying about being at the mercy of the current as it takes you towards the next rapids downstream, while you wait, laugh and make it through it. Pleasant.

I decided to cliff-jump, too, which seemed a great idea. It was around 15 feet, and looked fun. The river below was the same one I was rafting in, which never got more than 4 feet deep. I viewed the river as a tame friend, one that would pose no problem for a confident man like me to take-on.

Swimming is not like a bicycle. You don't just 'hop' back on and find it as effortlessly as you recall it being, which upon thinking back after the fact, I realized it never actually was. I was always a bad swimmer, but I figured it was a skill that in time, you just developed. Long story short - I didn't think until the second my foot jumped off the cliff. At that exact moment, I realized that I have never jumped off a point of that hight, either, and the fall was not a pleasant one.

I hit the water and expected to hit the bottom and bounce back up. I never hit it - it was very deep, and instead, I lost my breath and a panic set in. By the time that I surfaced, I was already low on air and high in lung-water. I was couging up water and having a great deal of trouble swimming. No beach was close to me - all were far swims, and I realized I was in trouble. I remebered at that point that I couldn't swim well at all, and my shirt, shorts and shoes were not going to help me, either. I dog-paddled, but couldn't stay up. More panic. I lost my breath. More panic. Can't stay aboove water. Glug. Breathe. Glug. Cough. I'm dead.

I tried to get on my back and practice some meditation that I had learned, and it worked. Still I was panicked and fucked, but at the moment, I was ok. What seemed like a minute had passed and I began to realize again that I was fucked. No way out. No swimming ability came to me, no solution apparant. I called for help.

When you call for help, you need breath, of which I had none. What came from me was a plea so meek that anyday now I expect the deed to earth. No help was coming, but luckily, I saw a friend of mine in equally bad shape, being saved my another friend of mine. I saw them swim to the nearvy cliff we jumped from, and I knew safety was a minute away - if I could muster up the energy.

I will spare the suspense. Clearly I made it. I coughed for awhile when I made land and experienced a headache of oxygen depravity that was as foreign a feeling as my brain has felt. Woozy and tired, I made it out, and had a great laugh.

I made it - but almost lost it on my terms, as my fault, and I have learned that nothing quite empowers you like losing and then re-gaining your own life.

The vacation continues.

It Doesn't Make Any Cents

2005-07-31T03:41:00.000-04:00

Life is weird. The show last night (it's 3:42 Sunday morning) was excellent. Felt fantastic up there. Being an MC opens up so many avenues for ideas, let alone jokes. I felt closer to my stride than I have in some time. It was a great show, a great weekend.

I worked with two people whom I genuinely liked, as well. Usually that tends not to be the case, which speaks more of my cynicism than the short-comings of my co-workers, although I could hold up some of their flaws in a court of law. This week was not the case. I worked with a very funny, very insightful comic with whom I hit it off wonderfully. Great conversation and good company, she was what the doctor had ordered for me. As I was dropped off at home, which is rarely done, she declined my offer of gas money, which capped off a great week. I strode happily to my home, excited about what was next.

What was next was me realizing I lost my pay for the week. Gone. Not in pockets. Not in bags. Not in socks nor in couch-cushions, not floors nor the street. Her car was absent of my loot. Gone, into the great void of existence where sits many drivers licences and other ID pieces of mine, CD's, books and people whom I have lost along the way.

Combined with my losing Fionn MacCools and having a show cancelled this week due to the long weeked, I somehow ended up losing $400. How, in a week where, in an even more peculiar way, I feel to have defiend myself, I end up in the hole is a mystery of life I cannot solve. My thoughts, my insight, my humor and my confidence have all reached such a level of strength and clarity over the past week that to compare it to my financial ruin is shocking. I am at a loss of, well, money, and not much else.

I take this as a sign. Too weird of a week to brush under the rug. It is with a clear and sober mind I see that things are happening now and my number is being called into action. It moves-up my Calgary sabbatical scheduled for later in the week to a few hours from now. Why hesitate when you know what you are to do?

Yes - why hesitate when you know what you are to do.

Saturday Is Nice

2005-07-30T16:39:00.000-04:00

There's this buzzing in this city that I always here. An electrical, hig-pitch moan that gets on my friggin' nerves, while my fucking nerves remain untouched by it. It's everywhere I go, and it's not in my head - I've had the sound confirmed by other ears. buzzzzzz. hmmmmmmmm. It must be the sound of an enormous city sucking dry the veins of power that run rampant throughout the city. Where it's heart is, I don't know, but it must be strained. buzzzzzzzzzzzz

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I MC'd last night. Dug it. Totally diffirent way of being funny. You don't get to tell jokes so much as you just talk to them, and throw in a joke wherever it permits. I like it. You don't even have top be friendly, I learned. I was quite mean, but funny. The job is to make sure they are ready to see the comics on the show, and in between, you make 'em laugh. I might like this position.

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Watched Jerry Maguire today. Great movie. Always find a new perspective in that movie everytime I watch it, which must be near ten times now.
This time, I saw the story of an athlete who found that the source of great performances comes from the heart, not the need to fill a wallet. If you watch it carefully, it's also a story of redemption, belief in self, the cost and profit of risk, a love story and a persons' complete deconstrcution from super agent to fulfilled man. Good story. Everything Cameron Crowe makes is layer after layer of great story telling. Elizabethtown next.

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The NHL draft was today. I can recall having sleep-overs as a kid on draft night eve and excitedly watch the draft in the morning, eager to see who the next super-hero for your home town team will be. I recall mising one. I was running in the Manitoba Marathon. After the race, we headed over to my Grandma's house and sat around and enjoyed a family day. I was furious that the race I'd trained for for MONTHS forced me to miss the draft. A radio was my only source to hear that the Winnipeg Jets selected some Finnish player named Teemu Selanne as their first pick. I read what I could of him, and studied him as I have all picks before and since, and it only further amplified enjoyment of his record-breaking rookie season that took Winnipeg by storm. This year, the Flames selected some under-the-radar defencemen named Matt Pelech. I still have ot read up, but he seems a surprise of a pick who as not expected to go anywhere in the first two rounds Who knows? Maybe years from now as Matt Pelech hoist the Stanley Cup, I can recall the day the ball started rolling - a day where an electrical buzz drove me up the fucking wall.