The Most Beautiful Thing I Saw Today: Sewing Machine Orchestra

"Martin Messier is a composer, a performer and a video artist. His curiosity for graphic arts has brought him to explore the relationship between sound and image. It's this same interest that inspires him to create audio performance, live electronics, installation video music, music for dance and theatre.

Based on strong aptitudes for rhythm, martin's aesthetic can be defined as a complex, left field and happily strange sound amalgam, constantly playing with construction and deconstruction." (From the artist's website here)

Sewing Machine Orchestra from Martin Messier on Vimeo.

I love the juxtaposition of using antique objects to create a super modern sound. I also appreciate the fact that a male artist is using "instruments" that are traditionally associated with women's work to create electronic music, which is often seen as (but not necessarily) a "masculine" musical genre.

via Colossal, which is where you can see more pictures and a longer video of this performance, along with an interview with the artist (en Français)

Being a Grownup

Hello again. Sorry for the loooong hiatus, school is kinda kicking my ass...

Moving along, last week I took a couple of big steps on the way to being a responsible adult. I have been an adult for, depending on what province you are from, either eight or nine years and I do a number of adult-like things on a regular basis; eat vegetable, order drinks at bars, say things like "I remember a time before Google", and tell jokes about Sinbad. But it is not everyday that I get all mature and responsible (unless you count working to support myself -- which I am not doing right this moment but I have done for an awfully long time).

I ride my bike, Lonesome Charlie, everywhere; all over downtown Toronto at all times and at all stages of sobriety. Last year I had a bad accident which involved me riding into a curb and flying over the handlebars and landing on my chin and spending the couple weeks with a distinctly Leno-esque chin (I may or may not have imbibed a couple of ill-advised pints of "Cool" lager at Sneaky Dee's) I was concussed but ok and while wearing a helmet wouldn't have hurt me it wouldn't have helped either because well, I landed on my face.

So, I was able at that time keep on justifying not wearing a helmet. Yes, I have ridden a bike in a busy urban city for five years and never worn a helmet. I don't even really have a reason why I didn't have a helmet; it wasn't esthetic reasons no matter how many times I joked that it was, mainly I think that I didn't have a helmet because I was crazy poor and thought that a cool-looking helmet would be upwards of $100.

But, all that is in the past now, my distant, immature, irresponsible past because last week I bought a helmet. I gotta say, I feel pretty good about my growing up.

Oh, and I also finally got a bell and found my lights for Charlie.

I've Been Eating A Lot of Sandwiches Lately

Hot damn, I had a delicious sandwich yesterday at Grove, a new restaurant in Winnipeg. What makes me a fit to judge a sandwich, you ask? Well, dear reader, I am a bit of a sandwich connoisseur; I'm a girl who knows her sandwiches; Subway may well have stolen "sandwich artist" from me once tales of my sandwichy legend got 'round.

I believe that the most important part of a sandwich is the condiment; personally I'm partial to curry mayo and mango chutney and chipolte and cranberry-parsley anything, not all together of course (although... nope, not together); but the absolute number one condiment, that makes any savory food worth eating is grainy dijon. Oh baby, grainy dijon is one of my most favourite things in this world.

After the condiments is doesn't really matter what kind of sandwich it is; a curried chick-pea, roasted chicken and curried green apple, mango chutney grilled cheese with bacon, turkey and stuffing and cranberry mayo with goat cheese...

Anyway, I am so distracted by sandwiches I seem to have lost myself... Ah, yes my sandwich yesterday. It was a cold roast beef sandwich with arugula and horseradish mayo. Delicious. Maybe not the best part of my day but certainly the best thing I ate.

My Preciousssssss

I used to have a bit of a, um, addiction to celebrity gossip. Hot damn, I loved it all: the feuds, the speculations, Brangelina (omg, could that little Shiloh get any cuter?! A pirate sword accessory? Adorable!) and the blind items, oh the blind items! I would spend a looooooooooot of time reading Gawkers' blinds, never really caring all that much who they were about (except for Coke Mom -- who art thou, Coke Mom?) more just curious about the quirks of the obscenely rich. 


I guess it is worth noting that I was going through a fairly heavy bout of depression which certainly didn't help (I was also addicted to Ghost Whisperer -- Jennifer Love Hewitt, that narcissistic drama-queen, bless her little heart) but as I managed to cut that shit out as I got stronger. 


It has been about three months since I read any celebrity gossip and like any good recovering addict I think I've beaten the beast; I've been feeling so confident of my success that today I read just a little gossip round-up on Jezebel which brings me to the best part of my day: According to a "source" close to his assistant, John Travolta has 102 hairpieces in different lengths, colors and sizes, in case he gains or loses weight. They have their own refrigerated room in his house. And, (here is the kicker, a statement that I will revisit every time I feel down and need a lil' pick-up) "He likes to visit and pet them once in a while. They're his little treasures." 


Little treasures. Glorious.