From The Land Of Salt Trucks #4

So I've finally relented and bought myself winter boots. My wallet and I resisted this necessity for some time, but with each falling degree I lost another toe to frostbite. I recall something about the German soldiers being defeated by the Russian winter before ever reaching the battlefield. It was their boots, or lack thereof. I empathise.

I'm done with school. I managed to maintain excellent attendance for the first semester, and I'm glad I did so. Unfortunately the course was aimed slightly below my experience level and had to cater for the lowest common denominator. And although there were only 20 of us (chosen from over 900 applicants), there were some kids that were still struggling to deal with basic precepts of dynamic compression. Meanwhile I was struggling to maintain enthusiasm and trying to convince myself that I was actually somehow learning something. I did. I learnt that I'm on the right track, and that I'm ahead of the game, at least here in Toronto.

That's something that has been affirmed by the work that I've been getting. I haven't as yet actively sought out any more production work since the Canadian Idol stuff, but it just keeps landing on my lap. Getting calls from people who are friends with people that spoke to people that I don't think I know. They want me to produce their album. It must be my accent or something. I keep increasing my fee, and yet there's no shortage. So for now I'm accumulating more gear than I have space for in my tiny bedroom. In fact I really only have space for my bed... so I have to set up the computer and DAW on my pillows, keyboard along my left leg and guitars along the wall. True.

I guess it's the type of music that I'm producing, but I haven't been spending a lot of time with white people. It's kinda strange to be honest. Race is more of a big deal here than in Melbourne, and you're constantly being reminded about it. There's near total segregation neighborhood to neighborhood, and club to club. With exceptions of course, but it's there. I'm working on an album with Blake Carrington (a local MC) and his crew, and he keeps inviting me to venues that I know are all black. I usually respond by pulling up a sleeve, but he tells me that no-one cares, and as long as I'm with them everyone will be cool. For the most part it's true, but I do get looks and hear whispers. I asked him if he's so colourblind why haven't I ever seen him or any of his boys talking to any whiteys. He said "Coz dawg, there aint any talented white people around here." Which I take as a compliment.

Couple weeks ago I was invited to The Canadian Urban Music Awards, which I went to, of course. It was great. I managed to bullshit myself backstage and talk to all the big names in the Canadian scene. From the outside, it looks pretty insular because there are only 15 or so real household names, and they're pretty tight. But I was amazed at how open and receptive everyone was - the fact that a nobody-white-boy could A) go to the event B) get backstage and C) have a drink with the award winners. I can't imagine that kind of thing would be possible at an awards show in the States, or even Australia. You'd be stopped short in the carpark by a bunch of bureaucrats in suits before you could get within 100 metres of Rove.

So I've managed to establish some pretty good contacts - which I'll be strengthening and using to my advantage shortly. I see this time as a period for learning and professional development, so I don't want to rush into things too quickly. That said, it's hard pacing yourself when the industry is so wide open.

Daylight hours are few. It's 5:30pm now, and the sun went down while I've been writing this. I coulda sworn it just got light. Basically there's sunlight while I have breakfast, and then it gets dark again. It's really confusing. I don't know when to have dinner. Coz I haven't had lunch yet.

OH! Maybe someone can help me. I think I have a condition. I can't stop eating. Honestly, I eat so much - at least four times as much as anyone you've ever met. Soon as I finish eating I start thinking about what I can eat next. I'm not putting on any weight - I wish I could (although that's not why I'm eating - I'm just always hungry). And no matter how much I eat, I just don't feel full. Is there such a thing as a late onset of Prader-Willi Syndrome? Did I hit my hypothalamus on the doorframe? A pituitary deficiency? Do I have tapeworm? What the hell is it?? And I can't work out if it's healthy or not. I mean, I could stand to put on a few pounds...

So the night after I got my new winter boots, I went tabogganing. Found this park just north of the city with a monstrous slope. But man, I had no idea how much speed you build up. I was on this kiddy's bright orange plastic affair, complete with a console made up from stickers of gauges that are redlining. So I clasped the little string in my gloved hands, tucked my boots into position and wiggled my butt back and forth until I started sliding. It's gentle at first, although you feel all the bumps, and then faster and faster until you get one of those moments like 'has this vehicle been crash rated?' or 'but snow can't hurt that much, can it?' It can. Well, not so much the snow as the concrete path that's beyond the base of the hill that I didn't think I'd reach. There were a few other kids scooting down the other side of the hill, and I'd wondered why my pristine side was completely uninhabited. Such luck! Well, I managed to simply glide/scrape my way over the asphalt... that wasn't the problem. It was slamming into the snowbank on the other side that threw me from my craft and resulted in multiple mid-air flips before ultimately landing face first in a neat little bundle. Somehow snow ended up inside my beanie, gloves, pockets and socks. Woo! Needless to say I went down that hill another 15 times including twice standing up. The concrete was the best part each time. It's funny, you get these little tear/drool/piss icicles forming streaks behind you. I've found a new hobby.

Alright, better wrap it up. It's dark outside which means I've gotta eat. I'm in the studio all this week. Christmas time in the studios - and not an optical mouse is stirring. I managed to find a Jewish pop vocalist and together we're gonna have free run of the systems until January. Hopefully churn out some cream that'll make some cheddar. I got that egg-nog shit that make you break your neck.

Woo-Hah.

Love to all. I miss everybody.

If I don't speak to you beforehand, may your holiday season be peaceful and fun.

J

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PS: Since I've been spending all my time with fresh young black rappers, I've had to learn a whole new host of terminology. Which of course you know will eventually permeate through MTV and Urbanified media until every suburban middle-class eminem fan is spouting it freely. But that will take some time, so I thought I'd give y'all a few months advance notice.

guy = a word to finish all sentences, whether you're talking to a girl, guy or senior citizen. although it's on it's way out now, and is commonly being replaced by 'bredren.' eg "yea guy, it was awesome guy"
chop (n) = a friend or someone that you know that may be suitable for dating. eg "you gotta get me a chop"
chop (v) = to hit on someone. eg "she's in the corner chopping that guy"
one = this is now how you say goodbye... just 'one' i guess it comes from 'one love' or something.
what are you sayin? = what are you doing? and can be used for past, present or future occasions. eg. "hey guy, what are you sayin tonight?"
feesty = fiesty or easily angered
cuff = hit or fight. eg "he come roun and cuff him upside the head"
truuuu = 'oh really, i did not know that' eg "So last I drank two bottles of tequila" Response: "Truuuuue."
boojee = someone who is friendly to you in certain occasions, and then ignores you at other times. eg "you booji girl"
touched = under the influence of drugs or alcohol. eg "yea, he's a little touched"

More to come guy.
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