7, 5.

7 days left. Stresses are rising and falling. Things are wrapping up. Having one last everything is tiring. I'm having teary goodbyes. Lots of promised visits. One by one, the obstacles are falling and now there is 7.

7 days until my life veers sharply off in another direction. I already have the new haircut and shoes to go along with it.

-----

Suddenly, it's 5 days to go. I cleaned the car today. My life is in about 2 dozen boxes and crates. Leah's life is in...many more than that. It's interesting to pack my life up, which is about one room's worth...Versus Leah, who has an entire condo to pack. It's a decidedly bigger task. If this move didn't seem real yet, it completely does now. There are several 'last' things coming up. One last dinner with the hippies. One last show to work.

Then we pack the truck. Then the truck leaves. Then we leave. Tears and hugs a'plenty.

Sigh.

13.

I like cigars, I'm not gonna lie to you. I'd like to think that they help me...think. Maybe it's just the time they take to smoke - it forces you to pause and take a second for youself. I know, smoking is gross. Whatever. I like this kind of smoking, and I don't do it often. When I need to. Like tonight.

I am stressed right the fuck out. That's the now. Let's recap the then.

Friday night, I held my last show ever. It was with Faunts, Vailhalen, those crazy cats in Field & Stream, and the best surprise of the evening, Illfit Outfit. What a fantastic band. They're new and young and smart and talented and creative and that combination is exactly what it takes to make it. Good luck, kids.

It was kinda strange to think as I was settling the show that it would be the last time I would risk my own coin, put up my own posters, beg people online to come to my show, despite a billion other rad shows happening the same night. The thrill of promoting has waxed and waned in the last 8 years of doing it - but in my exit, I feel...good, for lack of a better word, about what I did in this town, and how I feel about leaving it. Edmonton, you'll do just fine.


Look at you. Glowing with promise. Growing like a weed. You are beautiful and inspiring and you give and you take and you love back. This is what I needed here, and got here. I'll miss you, Edmonton. Know that.
-----

I marked another occasion on Saturday, that of Leah and I's going away party. Now, I don't mean to brag, but I know how to throw a mean party, and that's just what I did. It was insane, to say the least. Pants were removed, speakers were danced upon. Greg played Funki Porcini. Rollie played fucking sexyback for christsakes. The kids went fucking wild. A massive shout out to all the DJs who played, and a special brodown is deserving of Mr. Hipster Twister himself, DJ Generic AKA Eric the Freshmaker, for helping with the gear, but MOST OF ALL, making me CRY with his shirt. For reals bro, maximum respect is returned.

I feel enormously lucky to have so many good friends, and am stoked at the prospect of seeing them again on eastern turf. Thank you, everyone for coming out.

Sunday was a write off. I ate fantastic food though, and got to visit with the sisters. I'll miss them SO much too. ugh, all this missing, and all the time in the world to do it in. What I DON'T have time for right now is my FUCKING LIFE which is srsly crazy.

13 days. In those days I have to work 3 shows, move out of my place, go to calgary and back, get drunk, eat food, have 2 radio shows, DJ at Blackdog, celebrate this fine town and the people it gave me and kiss it goodbye, for now. It'll be hard.

Thursday. One last kick at the wooftop. See you there?

Strange fascination, fascinating me

I still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't want to be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strain)
Ch-ch-Changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
...

Strange fascination, fascinating me
Changes are taking the pace I'm going through



Dear Friends,

It is with a heavy heart that I start to say goodbye to some of you. In the last few days since I announced our going away party (details below), I've received a slew of emails from people who are unable to attend, who have poured out their thoughts and feelings on my departure, and I have to admit, its choked me up a bit. I'll be getting back to people individually, but allow me, for a minute to speak on general terms about this place I've called home for 20 years.

I love Edmonton. I love the people here, our defiant and proud culture, and our insisting that Calgary sucks. There are so many dozens of people here, who over the course of the last 10 years have taken me under their collective wings, nurtured me and taught me to fly, so to speak. Crossing my fingers and taking the leap I'm about to would never have seemed doable without their guidance. I hope they know who they are.

Admitting that I'm glad to be leaving is one of the hardest confessions I've ever had to make. Don't get me wrong, I'm not fleeing here with the hope NEVER to return; but I just feel like my time in this town is done for now. I've helped who I can, I've done what I've done, and I feel good about it. It's time for new challenges, new projects and time for life and love in a new environment. It feels like a test, one I can't study for. Maybe these past years HAVE been the studying. Between 5 years of University, 9 years doing radio at CJSR, 8 years of promoting shows...I think I have enough training for whatever it is that's coming next.

That, and having a partner at my side is making me feel...able to do this. Allow me to gush and wax poetic for a sec - I'm happier than a pig in shit these days. All around me I seem to see people breaking up, cheating on their lovers, lying to their partners, having...trouble. I, on the other hand am blissfully in love, ready to make a massive leap with someone who I seem to fall even deeper in love with every single day. It's almost overwhelming sometimes to think how random it was that we even MET in the first place; I was defiantly single, focused on my own games and ego...but Leah was patient and thoughtful and knew that in time, if it was meant to be, I'd come around. It was, and I did.

Much love, and more emo waxing to come.

ps: party details:
Saturday Sept. 23 @ The Velvet Underground (10030-102st)
The Eli-and-Leah-go-to-Toronto-so-get-the-fuck-outta-here-already party!
9ish. Lots of drink specials, trashy dancing, drunken emotional hugs and more.

Music by...
-DJ Generic (Hipster Twister)
-Greg Saint (Multipurpose, Music First)
-Glenn Alderson (Beatroute/Rock n'Roll Variety Show, Calgary)
-Mr. Rollie Pemberton, esq. (Weapon, Cadence)
-Marquez El Prodan (CKUA, Prodaniukianor)
-Ms. Sheri Barclay (CJSR, "it" girl [harhar])
-DJ Eli Eli Eli (uh, me.)

come say hi, and goodbye...or at least a 'see you soon'.

bye by buh buy.

WHAT a weekend. A quick recap. Early Friday night I stayed in to suss out my yard sale, then went to JR's going-away party. I like that there's a party house within crawling distance of my house, because crawl I did, at 5:00AM. Ergo, Saturday was a bit heavy-headed. I went for breaky and did my radio show, then for sushi with Liz and Leah. THAT'S WHEN we got the call. An offer had come through on Leah's condo. We'd been waiting and waiting for this to happen for over a week - it was like pins and needles. We met the realtor back at the pad, papers were signed, counteroffers submitted and accepted, and a deal was made. What a weight to be lifted. The only thing left at that point was...the yard sale.

It went splendidly. Aside from getting drunkstroke and passing out at 9PM for 12 hours, it was SUCH a fun day! So many people came by to say hello and goodbye and bought tons and tons and tons of stuff!

Now it's the real countdown. There is very little left to do but pack, and seeing as though my room is already in complete disarray, it should be kinda easy.



I'm gonna take this opportunity to gripe, albeit briefly.

Back in my idealistic and super-lefty days, I would have bent over backwards to help "the poor". I put that in quotes because I don't even know what that means anymore. I grew up poor, but we always had what we needed, even if it wasn't the BEST stuff, or the NICEST, my parents worked hard to keep us fed and happy. I'm not complaining. What I AM complaining about is the ever-growing number of panhandlers in downtown Edmonton. This city, and this province is in the middle of the single biggest job boom and subsequent labour shortage in our short history, and the amount of able-bodied men* on the street panhandling is simply STAGGERING.

*men=I say men, because it is 90% men. the women that panhandle are the 'usuals', who I don't give money to because I see them day in and day out, and they aren't doing anything to help themselves.

In the 30 minutes I was out for lunch, I was asked for 'spare change' no less than 8 times by the same amount of people. One guy had the sheer audacity to say, "spare a buck for an old drunk from Halifax?"...I was stunned at that. I knew he came here for work, and was simply pissing away whatever money he HAD earned, and now wanted ME to help him out. it's THESE people that piss me off. Sure, I should have my socialist-ascribed tag line ready; "we are all humans, and deserve help, blah blah"...NO. Not anymore. Seriously. I am sick to fucking death of working every single day, earning MY keep...and my politics are trying to tell me that I should just give give give? Bollocks.



I'm not SO cold-hearted. When I lived on the south side, I constantly gave money to a guy I knew who sold Our Voice (cheap street monthly); I never took an issue, so he could sell it and keep my money, but I started to give him less and less when he appeared and smelled drunk at 9:00, or when his girlfriend (who was mentally handicapped) showed up one morning with black eyes. I didn't see him for a long, long time after that...then about a month ago I saw him; or I should say, I shadow of him. He must have lost 75 pounds in 6 months. he was HUGE, and now he was THIN. Nothing but drugs do that. I gave him $5 for a sandwich, and he disappeared and came back all wild-eyed and asked me for $5 more, "cuz that sandwich was SO GOOD (he) wanted another".

What do I look like, a fucking moron?

The other guy I give money to, and still do, is named George. He's genuinely homeless, unable to work due to schizophrenia, and has to give most of his money to pay health premiums for his daily dialysis treatments. I sometimes buy him lunch, I sometimes just give him whatever I've got in my pocket. He never has excuses, or even ASKS for money, he just sits there with his cup and his Our Voice, and he's humble about it. Not these in-your-face-drunk-by-noon-bleeding-on-the-sidewalk ASSHOLES who dominate my peripheral vision every day downtown.

GODDAMMIT. /end rant.

ugh. I don't want to sound so mean, but I'm looking to some of the committed leftists who I respect so much to step up here (Sammers? Zoe?)...tell me what I'm supposed to do or think. Please, I want to feel better about this.