Thursday, July 15, 2004
I don't know if many people that read this know Andrew 'Snake' MacKinnon or not, but I thought I'd post this link for those who do so they can see that they're not a lone in remembering and missing him :
rest in peace andrew 'snake' mackinnon
I remember getting in my first elementary school fight with him.
I remember breaking my arm while climbing over a fence at his house.
I remember I went to see 'Attack of the Clones' with him, Giselle, and Shauna at the drive-in. The movie was terrible so we had a food fight with Reese's Pieces, Twizzlers, and Gummi Bears in the back of my parent's car.
I remember, like Rory, his laugh, the "kind of laugh that always made (you) laugh, even when he was being a dick."
Gerry said that "hopefully 2004 will give us a break sometime soon. so far this year has just been fucking heartbreaking."
I hope that break comes soon.
rest in peace andrew 'snake' mackinnon
I remember getting in my first elementary school fight with him.
I remember breaking my arm while climbing over a fence at his house.
I remember I went to see 'Attack of the Clones' with him, Giselle, and Shauna at the drive-in. The movie was terrible so we had a food fight with Reese's Pieces, Twizzlers, and Gummi Bears in the back of my parent's car.
I remember, like Rory, his laugh, the "kind of laugh that always made (you) laugh, even when he was being a dick."
Gerry said that "hopefully 2004 will give us a break sometime soon. so far this year has just been fucking heartbreaking."
I hope that break comes soon.
On Saturday I scrambled to finish my zine...wait...wait...strike that, I only started the zine (technically) on Saturday morning. It was a collection of letters (mostly rejection letters on their behalf and complaint letters on my behalf) that I had received over a two year period (June 2001-October 2003). One of the exceptions to the rule was a thank you email from a Tom Selleck made for Tv movie. They needed some reference photos for their production. I guess Tom's daughter in the movie is some sort of 80's punk and noone had ever seen Repo Man or thought to rent it, so they drove ninety minutes from Calgary to Banff to have a look at a book called Hardcore California.
The zine loosely traced my flight from Halifax to Banff and then back again. I had thought about the concept for a while. I suppose it was mostly from attempts at piecing the details of other people's lives together from found letters at the library. I thought it might be neat to put together a loose narrative with my own letters. 2 hours production doesn't create a very complex or coherent story, but it was nice to try.
The zine fair was pretty daunting. I looked around at everyone's brightly coloured zines while I clutched my own shoddily photocopied black and white one. It was the first zine I had made in about 4 years and I was feeling rather self concious. I didn't want to be the 25 yr old man boy producing macaroni artworks while everyone else is using oil paints. It didn't help that I didn't know very many people there.
I half-thought I should turn around and go back the way I came.
Throughout the course of the day I became decidedly less nervous, but it would still send my mind into overdrive when someone would come over, pick up my zine, read it for a few minutes, put it down, say "It's a great concept", and leave. It's 25 Cents! Just buy the damn thing! I felt like a kid at a lemonade stand...scratch that...they offer a much superior product.
I'm not going to say this person said this about my zine and this other person you admire said this about my zine because it wouldn't be an ego so much as a namedrop, a boast, and an ego stroke. Oh look at that I just did stroke the ego and boast at the same time. Regardless I'm sure some people liked it and others thought it came from Widney High.
After the zine fair, I had band practice. Someone informed me that 'jamming' isn't the correct term and I should use BP or band practice. I have been trying to overwrite my mind with band practice. It's like the time I trained my brain to make the little a's with the roof over them. I used to make them sans roof, but then I decided it would be a good idea to teach my brain something new and make that thing second nature. I wanted to see if I could make an old habit die. Any time I'd make an 'a' I made sure I added the roof, even if it meant going back and adding the little roof. After a few months I never made a roofless 'a' again (squint hard, roofless looks like roofies). I just wanted to write roof a lot, so I included this paragraph. I'm going to overwrite the part of my brain that thinks its good form to say 'jamming' instead of band practice.
Coherency is important to me, but rarely do I exercise any coherency. Maybe I've exorcised it...moving right along...one of my worries is that I never know where I stand with people, but I have a feeling that has a lot to do with my own inability to let people know where they stand with me. This isn't a zine so I'll kindly shut the fuck up.
On Saturday I wrote a zine that attempted to give coherency to the events of the past. This past week I have spent my time trying to give coherency to memories while trying to overwrite my brain with new behaviours. It ain't fucking easy and I'm not even sure if it's the right thing to do. I'm not sure what I'm trying to exorcise.
The zine loosely traced my flight from Halifax to Banff and then back again. I had thought about the concept for a while. I suppose it was mostly from attempts at piecing the details of other people's lives together from found letters at the library. I thought it might be neat to put together a loose narrative with my own letters. 2 hours production doesn't create a very complex or coherent story, but it was nice to try.
The zine fair was pretty daunting. I looked around at everyone's brightly coloured zines while I clutched my own shoddily photocopied black and white one. It was the first zine I had made in about 4 years and I was feeling rather self concious. I didn't want to be the 25 yr old man boy producing macaroni artworks while everyone else is using oil paints. It didn't help that I didn't know very many people there.
I half-thought I should turn around and go back the way I came.
Throughout the course of the day I became decidedly less nervous, but it would still send my mind into overdrive when someone would come over, pick up my zine, read it for a few minutes, put it down, say "It's a great concept", and leave. It's 25 Cents! Just buy the damn thing! I felt like a kid at a lemonade stand...scratch that...they offer a much superior product.
I'm not going to say this person said this about my zine and this other person you admire said this about my zine because it wouldn't be an ego so much as a namedrop, a boast, and an ego stroke. Oh look at that I just did stroke the ego and boast at the same time. Regardless I'm sure some people liked it and others thought it came from Widney High.
After the zine fair, I had band practice. Someone informed me that 'jamming' isn't the correct term and I should use BP or band practice. I have been trying to overwrite my mind with band practice. It's like the time I trained my brain to make the little a's with the roof over them. I used to make them sans roof, but then I decided it would be a good idea to teach my brain something new and make that thing second nature. I wanted to see if I could make an old habit die. Any time I'd make an 'a' I made sure I added the roof, even if it meant going back and adding the little roof. After a few months I never made a roofless 'a' again (squint hard, roofless looks like roofies). I just wanted to write roof a lot, so I included this paragraph. I'm going to overwrite the part of my brain that thinks its good form to say 'jamming' instead of band practice.
Coherency is important to me, but rarely do I exercise any coherency. Maybe I've exorcised it...moving right along...one of my worries is that I never know where I stand with people, but I have a feeling that has a lot to do with my own inability to let people know where they stand with me. This isn't a zine so I'll kindly shut the fuck up.
On Saturday I wrote a zine that attempted to give coherency to the events of the past. This past week I have spent my time trying to give coherency to memories while trying to overwrite my brain with new behaviours. It ain't fucking easy and I'm not even sure if it's the right thing to do. I'm not sure what I'm trying to exorcise.
