Excuse me, my baby come out wrong

But he's still my Johnny

This Gen

A perennial complaint among people who aren't exactly young anymore (including me) is the good ol' "Music today sucks!" This is fun to say, but really not fair. Think of it this way: what if the generations of music were like the cast of a movie? You have your leading men and women, impressive ensembles, maybe the eye candy on the side and the comic relief—all the usual roles to fill.

Well, then the past has been filmed and released already. All the awards have been handed out, and everyone is relatively immortalized for their impact: artistically, culturally, or both. You can argue whether they deserve it or not, but you can't argue the fact that they've survived time so far, and that doesn't happen without reason. They did something big. All the people who didn't? They faded away, and you're left with those who really stood out. (Yes there are always great people who get overlooked, but that doesn't mean those who do get cemented in the spotlight weren't deserving.)

So that makes the present day an immensely crowded, years-long audition for who gets to survive and be heard beyond the next five minutes. Of course it's going to look like a lot of shit with all the masses trying out almost American Idol style. The ratio of bad to good may be worse now with the accessibility of technology and proliferation of mass media, but still! Get over your favourite generation! You should absolutely highlight and remember what was awesome, but you can't pretend it all was or even most of it was. It wasn't.

I'm not saying everyone is going to have a cultural phenomenon like The Beatles, or whoever holds that throne in your heart, but the lack of a worldwide darling doesn't imply a lack of good music. The public eye is fickle, so especially in the present, especially if you're older and have heard a lot already, you need to look more for yourself. There will always be new, incredible people making new, incredible music. Find them, and give them a chance!

Easter Legs

Grab bag blog! (Grab blag?)

First: Happy Easter! Just like Jesus, I had a dream the other day that my cousin was dating Rosie O'Donnell. She rode a tricycle. I'm pretty sure it was actually a glimpse into an alternate dimension and/or heaven.

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From "You Are Not So Smart" by David McRaney:

"Bargh conducted a study in which Caucasian participants sat down at a computer to fill out boring questionnaires. Just before each section began, photos of either African-American or Caucasian men flashed on the screen for 13 milliseconds, faster than the participants could consciously process. 

Once they completed the task, the computer flashed an error message on the screen telling the participants they had to start over from the beginning. Those exposed to the images of the African-Americans became hostile and frustrated more easily and more quickly than subjects who saw Caucasian faces.

Even though they didn't believe themselves to be racist or harbor negative stereotypes, the ideas were still in their neural networks and unconsciously primed them to behave differently than usual."

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Still plugging away at the stories I'm writing, but they're coming along. The trouble is, I'm getting reacquainted with writing prose as I go along and keep spotting new problems that I would've missed before. This is good, but is also slowing things down. Still want to get them out this month.

And I think I need to start that obligatory dance with social media if I want to take this seriously, so expect at least a Twitter feed and Facebook page to haunt as you please.

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Jaw-and-entire-face-dropping performance of "The Bad In Each Other" by Feist at the 2012 Junos. Awesome big finish!

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Question: Do you have any tried and true methods for thwarting the procrastination monster? A simple but effective one for me has been flicking the wi-fi switch off on my laptop. At the very least it makes me think twice about what I'm going to be using the net for.

Marooned on Popo Island

The past few days I've been helping to keep an eye on my grandma (Popo) in her little condo. She's had a couple strokes and doesn't talk much, so when I'm there she often sleeps the whole time and the room becomes a fully furnished box of solitary confinement.

I started to get a bit nutty today on the third day, which is strange in a sense because I usually go out of my way to be a hermit.

Maybe it's harder to be alone outside your own shell.

Or maybe it's her hospital bed that goes BRZTZRTZRTTT every twenty seconds.

She did wake up when my mom came once, and they sang Oh My Darling Clementine together which was really nice and funny to see.