modern romance

Modern Romance: The Affair

2012-01-30T06:05:00.001-08:00

125th Ave.

2010-07-05T22:31:00.000-07:00

Scrambling to the airport after greeting the sun at the the east river. JFK makes me feel like the mouse from Algernon trying to run through a maze running on fumes everything around me seems to be covered in a haze and my brain is trying to process the events of my weekend. I never really knew what love was until I saw my family, witnessing the meeting of my surrogate ones from the north with the blood from the south. If a persons wealth can be measured by the ones who love them then Bill Gates ain't got shit on me. The model for all women are appraised to the one(s) who raised you. I have been very fortunate, though I never new my biological I never lacked a mother's love. In fact I had the care of a mother 3 times over and at the helm of that is probably the strongest woman I know and her name is Vilma.

You see there are certain things a man cannot live with out air, shelter, a PS3, and above all the love of a woman. Growing up in a home where there are 4 of them was one of the most pivotal moments in my development into manhood and also one of the keys to my on going evolution. Not saying I have the shit figured out, I still stumble at times, say ridiculous shit and often times think with...my brainless head, but if I even have a small scrap of class it would be because of them. So to keep it simple...

Yvonne
Latoya
Angela
and
Vilma (my heart)

I love you.

Waiting Room

2010-06-01T09:38:00.000-07:00

Sitting at a starbucks in the airport for a 5 hour layover. I am doing my best to look like a grown up. I drink coffee (with lots of sugar) and read a book. Not a pictures book, but a words book.

To my 3 o'clock, a 50-ish man and and late 20's girl approach the counter. She pulls up the stool at my immediate right but he grunts something in caveman french and she is moved a seat away from me (and closer to gate A11, where a bodies drape languidly across the only 6 comfortable fucking chairs in Heathrow). I sneak a peek to catch her dirty blonde profile and gold/hazel eyes. Then, I direct an innocent fantasy starring her mouth and return to my stories.

A couple of minutes later he gets up to leave and suggests she do the same. Without knowing the words, it is easy to understand that she isn't done and doesn't want to leave yet... not with him. He is gruff and utters something that must be a threat because his body leans forward with it while his hand gets half-cocked for a slap. He isn't bold enough to follow through in this place. Frustration goads him while she stares forward at the massive window and watches the planes take off with slow ease. Then he is gone.

After a moment I ask her for the time and in the ensuing conversation I smash french language like a baby tea cup. I go back to my book and she keeps watching the departures, but she is somber and her sadness seems to pull at me. Quietly, her tears leak sideways... frustrated and tired. What should I do? What can I do? I remember a tissue I'd left in my coat pocket and slide it over. Feeling sheepish and making minimal eye-contact I say "excuse moi". She smiles, embarrassed and thanks me. Wipes her tears and blows her nose. I kind of want to put my arm around her. Instead, I ask her about her trip using a bastardized version of french, mime and smile therapy. She's on her way to China for a couple of weeks. It's her first time. A tour of 20 people. She lives in Lyon I think. Her eyes are engaging but shy, and her laugh is sincere. She doesn't mind flying but the take off and landing can be scary.

I don't know why she was crying, but she isn't anymore. Her coffee finished, she says she feels much better and thanks me. She offers her hand, her name is Cecile.

Distorted Focus

2009-11-18T12:41:00.000-08:00

It's 4 am, and I'm sitting here in a room with a familiar stranger. I came here in search for something, but having no idea what it is or why I am even here. The initial thought seemed sound after many drinks and the desire for flesh distorting my view.

"Tell me about yourself..."
"Well I'm from...(you don't really care, why waste time with empty words?)"

After all you and I know why we are here, it's now 4:15am and the hollow look in your eyes mixed with the bittersweet after taste of Jameson's that haunt my breath are now collaborating to make a recipe for bad decisions...something wicked this way comes.

Fooling myself in to thinking that I still feel the need that to partake in this life style.

...Open your eyes now brother, time to walk away...

Though I see the tragic comedy, of wanting to fit in, wanting to be cool, desired, and lusted for. The very knowledge that still puts me into the places that I have been before, roads re-traveled, and the lips I now kiss that have been shared with many others.

"Wait! I am having a moral dilemma..."

Funny you say that now only dressed in your top and underwear, still planting markers of your kisses upon my face and mouth.

"Well darlin' you only have seconds to decide, then the panties hit the floor."

...hmmm, I thought so. Your guise of moral stability appeared like a fog, however as soon as the winds of lust hit, it was redirected.

These days Modern Romance comes in many forms, some sweet and ideal where you are riding bareback on a unicorn down a rainbow road while being accompanied by goat boy who plays a romantic chantey on the way to the erotic virgin meadows, and others take place in seedy humid rooms lit by a fucking red light where the person who you thought was the raddest being you have ever encountered turns out by morning to be Cerberus hound of Hades. The thing is learning to separate the fact from the fiction, the reality from the delusion.

It's about time I restore my focus...well maybe just a little.

RR.

Next One

2009-11-12T08:49:00.001-08:00

What you’re looking for with her you’re gonna get.

From lazy Sundays to secret spies on the train. Fake dialogues for bad movies and fights that even end well. Safe landings and all that good shit.

What you’re looking for with her you’re gonna get... just with somebody else. Do yourself a favour now and get out from under her window, then go home and take a god-damned shower already.

Drunk Dial me Sucka! (and I’ll surmise your mind-workings)

2009-10-27T13:48:00.000-07:00

SleepyHead- Uh, Hello? (what the fuck?)

EgoHead- Hey, it’s me. (Are you alone?)

SleepyHead- Huh? (huh?)

EgoHead- Oh, did I wake you? Sorry, I just was like, thinking about stuff and… (Are you alone?)

SleepyHead- Where are you? Are you ok? (If you aren’t in the hospital or being held at knifepoint, please fuck off)

EgoHead- Yeah, I’m just out with my friends but I felt like saying hi. (I’m contemplating my chances of having sex with someone else and came out for a smoke)

SleepyHead- Well… hi. (Thanks for reminding me of your life without me 3 days after I thought I forgot you.)

EgoHead- It’s just that it’s weird not seeing you around, and I kind of expect to but I’m not sure if I want to or if it’s a good thing and... I don’t really know. (I’m drunk enough to obscure the reasons I stopped hanging out with you behind a chorus line of rail drinks)

SleepyHead- Oh. (I am happier with you not around, but I forget why.)

EgoHead- I just want to know that like… we’re cool, you know? (I want you to want me.)

SleepyHead- Yeah, sure… I guess? (I want you to want me.)

EgoHead- We should hang out or go for coffee of something. (I will put you in my piggy-bank of options for when I’m bored)

SleepyHead- Ok, yeah… that would be nice. (I want to invite you over, but I’m just happy to know you want to be around me again.)

EgoHead- Good, we’ll talk soon. (I fly people like kites.)

SleepyHead- Ok. (I am a tired kite.)

Clockwork

2009-10-15T09:18:00.000-07:00

7:45pm - Leaving the apartment late. I knew my timing was unreasonable, but this would be a little ridiculous. I have a long drive ahead.

8:06pm - Occupied with Richard Pryor, Redd Foxx and Lenny Bruce among others on the way up. Pryor is a king.

9:27pm -Weigh the pros and cons of birth & gun control while trapped in a line at Wendy’s on the highway.

9:51pm -Take dinner into the car. Listen to Woody Allen tell a love story about a woman he knew. She ran away to be a street-walker in Venice and drowned.

10:02pm to whenever - Rain, fog, assholes text messaging at 140 clicks. Highway driving is calming. Looking forward to the weekend just ahead of me.

1:17am - Call and tell her I’ll be late. Maybe an hour or two. She doesn't seem to mind.

1:54am - Tired as shit. Thinking about a girl I used to know.

2:13am – I’m close but lost… but close. Pull over to look at a map.

2:34am – I’m at the door.

My host is wide awake… “wired” as she put it. I get the tour and the roommate is gone so wandering around the giant apartment requires no subtlety at all. I make no effort at hiding my envy either. We talk about her roommate and the upstairs neighbours and the sex noise that seeps through the house. I like hanging out with other nighthawks and pretending it’s day. It’s the stillness that makes everything sound secret. She offers scotch and we listen to records. Dylan, Clash, Smiths, Cohen and some classical stuff she’s into. We talk about the city and the cold. She’ll be escaping it soon. I ask about her writing and we drink more scotch. The records have been scattered all over the hardwood, while we sit like kids rummaging through toys. The neighbours haven’t made a sound. We still don’t know the other so well and this makes honesty easier... just by a little. I look out to the street and see the sun is coming up, not sure what time it is.

The Boy of Summer....Reezo Mix Tape (summer mix final track)

2009-08-30T22:47:00.000-07:00

Slip on your wayfarers, sit back listen, and read...

Just a few minutes ago I was sitting outside smoking my late night cigarette with thoughts of the past interval of the season, the summer. My mind became flooded with all of the events,the people,the sounds, the bike rides, and the taste of the last few months and I have to say it has been one of the best summers I have experienced in many years.
Favorite things of the season...warm air (though it was rare), dominoes in the park, beers, girls in summer dresses, and the layered sounds of distant traffic combined with the chirps of crickets in the evenings. So easy to get carried away during this time. We live for this, cooped up in our homes all those many months on those cold winter nights it is only natural.
I was often asked "What are you up to?" and my response has been "Well, I'm, enjoying the last few days of summer." The response to that has been the same with most "Don't say that!!!" Funny, I found after time I only laughed it off and say to them that the only way you can truly appreciate the summer (like love) is to realize that it comes to an end so try to enjoy the hell out of the moments when you have them.
Do not fret though my loves because as long as we are here on this planet it will come around again. It was only a few months ago, in the month of February I woke up one morning and had a weird and new sensation. I knew I was going to have a great rest of my life...Don't ask me why this happened because I couldn't tell you I just knew it.
Could be because I have been accepting the fact that the end is nigh (not in the often morbid misunderstood apocalyptic) sense, but also simultaneously understanding that yeah, I won't have same exact moments again but I will have a bunch of knew ones later. It's a cycle, it's actually a good thing when things come to a close because something new and fresh is on the horizon. The key is evolution, and also longevity. Can't go out like the dinosaurs man, easy to become a stagnant fossil if you can't move on.
You all as well as I know that one of the worst delusions we can create is reliving and reinventing past moments.
...and in the great words of Don Henley "Don't look back, you can never look back..."

RR.

...try to understand love.

A July Night

2009-08-17T16:50:00.000-07:00

My heart thunders and crashes aloud,
to the sound that is unbeknownst to man.
The one that is all encompassing and benevolent,
I wait as she collects me in her golden hand.

Just a glimpse I shall give her,
I shall feed thee a tiny clue.
The intensity of my flame is enough,
that is shall burn for two.
K

Zorba knows best

2009-07-31T11:08:00.000-07:00

Saw an old friend yesterday and was reminded of how past people can be vivid reminders of who you used to be, and in many ways still are. I mean, recognizing yourself through generous eyes (that aren’t your own) is a nice way to spend an evening.

We talked a little about the parallels in our diverging paths. It seemed that the best or worst things - the moments of real living, were never really born from any of our grand schemes. So I thought maybe I should try embracing my adventurous, bohemian, capricious self and see how the rest of the year pans out. Play bad music real loud, fall in and out of love at the drop of a blouse or just generally give life a big bite in the ass. No planning- just doing. That’s what Zorba the Greek would want.

YES! Unbridled, impulsive, spontaneous, kick-god-in-the-balls, spit in the face of convention, tear the clothes of nature with nothing but wild-eyed lust and a Harley, earth-shaking laughter at my failings and flaws, mess my pants with joy cause I obliterated my watch under the weight of crashing inhibitions, GRADE A-1-FUCKIN’ LIVING! WOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

Starting next week… maybe Wednesday-ish.

Tuesday afternoon sketch. A smile like her's...

2009-07-28T13:28:00.000-07:00

...must award her many kisses on the mouth.
RR

You've got it.

2009-07-19T13:52:00.000-07:00

Listen while you read.

The morning we met remains as a fog filtered memory. Not in the way that I can’t remember, but as though it was recorded with a super 8 camera. Silent. Perfect.

As she approached I sensed a knowing, of having met her somewhere before. It is important to point out, I hadn’t. But you know that feeling.

As I sit here, I can’t help but over think the first few seconds. The many seconds that have followed have been the same. Every minute is worth more than I could pay. And yet, it’s been a summer of riches. It’s been an experience as rare as the woman herself.

This is a woman who has that elusive quality that we all look for. It is different for every one of us, but we are all looking for it. It’s hard to identify that something. It’s not hard to see, but difficult to put into words. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be so hard to find. The point is you can’t be sure until you see it.

We see it in each other. We have said as much. Our cards are on the table. And they are different. She is leaving for a few months. She’ll be in the same country, but she is leaving. And where she will go after that, it’s hard to say. She doesn’t know. She knows it won’t be here, but she can’t see the future. Neither can I. It just feels like I can.

I see the future through the same filter as the past. In my mind I tell her, “I am coming with you”. She sits there. Silent. Perfect.

Simple math...

2009-07-15T08:28:00.000-07:00

So my homie sent this to me today, I'm no math doctor but the equations seem simple.

Danaë Returns (Ode to the modern woman).

2009-07-12T23:03:00.000-07:00

A temple lies parallel amidst the lanes of both King & Queen
Where the ever sweet Danaë again return'd.
She appear'd to me on a summer's night,
Fiery hair,
Skin of gold,
And eyes identical to the northern light.

T'was only half a fortnight ago when I took the journey to her kingdom,
Greeted at the gates, embraced, and graced
By her touch, there I was made to understand humility.
And yet, I have traveled these roads before
Often fooled, lost, and affections misplaced,
But t'was here our union was forged,
T'was here Babel cheered in a thousand voices.
All bowed before her as she sat upon her throne,
Word shall spread, and the impostors will learn,
of ever sweet Danaë glorious return...

RR

For the wrist cutters... The Reezo mixtape #32

2009-07-07T20:04:00.000-07:00

(press play and read)

If you're so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight ?
I know ...

For all the times your left to remember them,
there is really no need to look at pictures
simply because their image is etched in your mind.

At one time you thought they were such a fetching find.
But all you seem to have left is this seductive specter,
seeking asylum in an abandoned room in the depths of your subconscious.

You sit there in your room torturing yourself again and again,
and after each cut you get deep into your heart, slowly bleeding out
all that made you special before.
All that is left now is to sit in convalescence,

...and do it again at a later time.

I wonder now as I type this, why we often make ourselves feel so? To be honest I am not sitting here writing feeling depressed nor am I longing for anyone in particular, actually the only two times I ever felt like this was once in high school, and the other was when my one and only relationship ended and I sat in my room listening to The Smiths album The Queen is Dead. I Know it's Over came on and I listened to it prolly like 5 intervals and by the end I was like these dudes are fucking depressing! Don't get me wrong though I love this band and I think they are genius.

The fact is though I had to eventually snap out of it, found (as all of you at some point) shit isn't healthy. We forget it was the idea we had that we cant really let go. I do agree the person and the time you shared with them was important, after all you may have spent a significant portion of your life, but it's usually the idea.

On another note, what I also find intriguing is that those who don't realize that they are hypnotized by the idea of love/relationships and not the truth. I mean I have encountered some in recent times that seem to really want this (the image, the surface love), what I gathered from my time with them is that I didn't really think at anytime that it mattered whether it was me or another guy just as long as they had someone to walk down the street with hand in hand, or someone to make out with in the back of a seedy bar...interesting.

Be really real,
or you will be taking a note from this song...

A Midsummers Night on Ossington

2009-07-06T23:46:00.000-07:00

This is dedicated to the girls that get the attention that they sometimes don't deserve...I ain't mad at ya;)

Sorry I don't really mean to stare,
however each time you are close
I can't help but want to play in your hair.

Sometimes you see me,
but I often see you.
on a warm summers night
drunk on my bike
I can't help but be love's fool.

This is love

2009-06-24T12:16:00.000-07:00

"That'll do pig; that'll do."

Grooming as Meditation

2009-06-22T12:17:00.000-07:00

Books and their covers can be deceiving from time to time, but I still have a thriving appreciation for a lady who can put herself together. Taking care with the little things and putting the background noise to rest is an underrated skill.

Whilst on a vest-buying mission I came across one such girl who seemed to exude a light and serenity I hadn’t seen in ages (at least in my waking life). It was like a picnic in some mother goose meadow… but instead of strawberries with sandwiches there was a mix of ether and butter-smooth skin. Her warm face and smile were crowned by a wreath of braided hair, lending her a Patrician element.

When I first walked into the place she was sweeping the floor but without the urgency or resentment of chores to be done. She was dressed with elegant simplicity and she wore her beauty with absolute modesty.

I imagined her taking her time getting ready that day. Maybe she only had to be at work for noon or one. She sculpted her style and took pleasure and time with each detail- put herself in the moment completely, leaving no room for worries past or present. Totally there in every filed nail and lightly mascara-ed lash. Completely in the moment and without distraction - except for the sun sneaking in to ease the lotion into the back of her bare knee . Vibrant and peaceful, when she held my hand and looked up to tell me her name, at the precise moment that the

whole

world
seemed
to
stop.

사랑해요

2009-06-04T11:33:00.000-07:00

Probably one of the hottest songs I have ever heard...
Keep sexy my friends.

This neurosis is making me thirsty

2009-06-03T12:49:00.000-07:00

Had too many pints and drew a treasure map whose X was happiness. The next morning I couldn't have deciphered it to save my life. Proof that my drunk self and sober self share a delicate balance of resentment and humor.

A new TV, a relationship, or even just a little red corvette Acknowledging the myriad of things whose purchases promise to fill the void within us, I wonder if love or the idea of it has become another such commodity. Some nights I watch so many e-harmony ads backed into P90-X testimonials that I dream about having a kind woman laughing at my lame jokes whilst holding me and my rock hard abs, iron lats and statuesque gluts ever so close.

If only I had _____ I would be happy. Fuck that. Whatever that thing is - I don’t know that I would ever find it, or afford it, or not totally mess it up - even if it did fall with the gumdrops out of the candy blue sky and into my oblivious lap. I’m downsizing my mind’s scope. Making simplicity a virtue without being naïve enough to confuse this with being virtuous. I’ll put want and worry in a crawlspace with old letters and sentiments long past due. Even the best of it never did much for me anyway.

With luck I’ll drink some cold drink, squeeze some warm flesh, and maybe even laugh at all the shit I thought I knew the day before.

What's best in life.

2009-05-29T15:44:00.000-07:00

When it comes to being a man, Conan the Barbarian probably said it best...

"Conan, What's best in life?!"

"The destruction of your enemies,
watch them driven before you,
and hear the lamentation of their women."
(see "It's Mans World" post for video.)

That could be one of my favorite all time movie quotes. This current log is just a continuation of something I posed earlier. So, I questioned before, What does it mean to be a man? I have also asked this to some women over the past while as well as if they actually know any and to my dismay the answer has been consistently...no. I must admit that I can't even yet call myself one and just like most out there I am simply at the moment, a dude.

Living the city life has made most of us soft, not only that we carry on in ways that are un-gentleman like. With a mess of other possibilities that could have caused this. For some of us our fathers never taught us so how do we learn?

For instance, fella's when you walk with a woman on the street, you gotta remember don't let them walk on the side facing the road. This maybe someone whom of which you have affection for or even still some one you have some respect for, not some woman of the night...unless she is your bottom ho then disregard said statement.

Quite possibly our grandparents generation saw the last of real men. They lived through world war, the depression and shit. You didn't have time to be like, "I wonder how working at the cracker factory would make me feel?" Nope! You had to just get up and do it, you had a woman and family to provide for. There weren't many options. Now we are blessed and even cursed with them.

I also wonder, was it the moment when we started talking about our feelings and questioning our instincts made us in to this generation of pussies? I mean inherently we know what we are supposed to do, like if sitting around with a lady friend and a rabid fucking sasquatch kicked in the door and started pushing her around, then you instinctively go into fight or flight, and if you want her to cook that hairy bitch up after you slay it then your ass best go in to fight mode. On the real, I promise you after you take down that beast in front of her I don't care how independent she may be, it's fact that part of her DNA that holds the "please my man" gene will kick in and cook up that sasquatch nice and proper like for you however you like and she'll prolly cook naked for you depending if you ask her nicely;)

Fun and jokes aside, the main thing is we should make them feel safe with us, but at the same time respect their independence. Even if some girls out there may not deserve a gentleman, (believe me I have had my share evil harpies) it's still important to keep it in practice, if anything no woman can hold anything against you if you treat them fair. It's a small city dudes and you don't want to get cut off like jean shorts.

So just like you (hopefully) I'm trying to learn how to MAN UP and take responsibility for my actions and self, not there yet to be honest but enjoying the journey thus far.

...but this now leads into the next question, Ladies, what does it mean to be a woman?

you think you get a man if y'all don't act accordingly?

GET AT ME!!!

Reezo Rocks

Luckdragons Abound

2009-05-25T09:28:00.000-07:00

Walking home a few days ago my walk (guided by Beck’s Modern Guilt) was interrupted by a scraping clang and some old dude saying “Ohhhh!”

I looked to my right and saw a cyclist making fetal halfway beneath a Toyota. Rushing into the street I motioned for the approaching streetcar to stop. An old man helped the fallen girl to her feet as I moved her bike onto the sidewalk. When I turned to ask if she was ok, I could not believe what I saw. She was lovely. Big brown eyes, perfectly tanned skin, and these crazy little freckles barely dotting her nose… and she was very, um, fit. Very fit. But 2 seconds after someone suffers a mild concussion isn’t the right time to ask them out for coffee… or is it the perfect time?

After asking if she was ok, my meekness gave way to timing and a couple of dudes who wanted to offer their own brand of leering support. I’m pretty sure one of them was the lead singer from the Watchmen. (Are they still together?) I thought what the fuck?! The fucking Watchmen are going to fuck this up for me now? Come on?!!!!!

The following is a sad example of my weak-ass game:
My Dumb Ass- “Is there anyone you want to call?”
Her – “No, there’s no one.”

Pause… heart speeding… Magic, fairy dust, angelic choir sounds in my head.

My dumb ass- “Ok, well good luck getting home. Take care.” And I walked away like a dumb, dumb-ass chump never to see her again….

Until, 2 nights later as Reezo accompanied me on a promenade, who do I see on the street? Did my eyes deceive me? Hath good fortune doth tickled my senses? That's right sucka, that is right! There she was, so I thought “Fuck it, I’m making a god-damned bee line!” My posture changed, my gate exploded with righteousness and I made my approach. (I’d like to take this moment to thank mod-romance’s unofficial sponsor: Pabst Blue Ribbon, whose deliciousness accompanied Reezo, EvieWonder and myself in the park on that very afternoon and whose courageous bouquet must have leaked through my liver and into my very soul)

As luck would have it, she recognized me then pointed and yelled “YOU!” . To which I replied, “YOU! “ Then we talked about the accident and her friends and my friends met and we were both genuinely happy. It was nice. It was really nice. Reezo and I had to leave and visit a friend at some other little bar but we returned to the original meeting place where the lovely bike girl and I exchanged numbers. I think I was still in shock that I’d really bumped into her and she remembered me.

Me- “You wanna go to the park with me tomorrow?”
Her- “Yes!”
Me- “Well in that case, come here.”
And we kissed on the sidewalk in front of everybody… which was nice too.

Oh, and I almost forgot: Earlier in the day when Reezo, EvieWonder and myself were walking to the park - a bird pooped on my shirt.

Me (calm-like) - “Reezo, there is doo-doo on my shirt.” Points to doo-doo.

Reezo and EvieWonder simultaneously “AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

EvieWonder- “That’s good luck, we gotta buy a lottery ticket NOW!”

I don’t think we won shit, but as for the good luck part… are you kidding me?

Now this is the sound of how I felt when I was in the park the very next day.
(and this version has cool drawings too!)

The Reezo Sketchbook...Meeting the ex's new...

2009-05-22T14:06:00.000-07:00

So I did this while back after and ex and I split and read it recently. It still made me laugh.

Love is stranger than fiction...

2009-05-22T09:16:00.000-07:00

I came across this scene from a film called Reconstruction by fluke. I don't want to go in to any set up, but it involves a meeting between two strangers...check it out.

Reconstruction
2003
Dir. Christoffer Boe
(Denmark)

Re-do's vs. Re-Don'ts

2009-05-14T12:38:00.000-07:00

Whether you're an painter, musician, photographer or any sort of creative type - you'd agree that it's fun to look at work from years ago as a relic of a past life. If you have the time, you might even retouch the photo or change an arrangement and find that you were actually on to something all along.

It's easy to want to do the same with people... but some things are most lustrous with help from an AM radio, alcohol and a rearview mirror.

Re-do
Sleeping in with someone... even more. Langour is under-rated.

Re-don't
Recreating the magical first 3 weeks. With the exception of "The Godfather", sequels are guaranteed letdowns. If anyone mentions Lord of the Rings, I will cyber-stab you.

Re-do
Listen to and talk about good music and how fuckin good it is as if NO ONE else really gets it. Sure it makes you a bit of an asshole but it feels like chicken soup for the soul with a handful of Demerol mixed in.

Re-don't
Go into too much detail about dreams, fears and future plans. It's bad enough when the relationships ends... now you have to imagine her laughing with her new boyfriend about how you’re pretty sure your cat is the reincarnation of an old relative and that’s why you watch Spanish soap operas together.

Re-do
Soft Drugs. That shit can create a bond that I only imagine is comparable to robbing a bank or killing someone in self-defense (just like in Thelma and Louise). There is no after-school special that could convince me otherwise.

Re-don’t
Erase the tape.

Music to make love to your old lady to.

2009-05-12T09:16:00.000-07:00

So I am sure everyone out there who has made out with someone or at least thought about it should have a collection of songs, or in that unique case an album that sets the mood off for those special moments of lip locking intercourse...

Eh-hem!

There are so many different songs, and albums that come to mind, but recently I have come across an album that works like friggin' GANGBUSTERS! The Album is the self titled debut from a band called the Bellewoods.

I don't know what kind of Magic lead singer Chris White has conjured up with other band mates Paul Watling, Dylan Green,Owen Davies, and Erik Arneson, but the shit is like an audio version of spanish fly. I have to say this is well constructed album from start to finish. If you haven't checked these guys out they are certainly worth a listen. So get the wine, set the lights low, get your favorite girl/boy and enjoy.

Thanks guys,
Reezo

Bellewoods Myspace
http://www.myspace.com/bellewoodsmusic

Favorite Tracks
Colborne (689)
In Season
A Night Begins

just a season

2009-05-08T08:14:00.000-07:00

Spring is here and people are meeting. Soon across this whole city, thousands of people will be experiencing the one summer that they'll try in vain to recapture for a long time, or until they just grow the fuck up.

Here is a segment from a film that captures this nicely.

True Romance in the times of a zombie apocalypse...

2009-05-07T10:46:00.000-07:00

I thought this was maybe one of the most romantic things I have heard, While discussing how to survive a zombie attack, a friend told me she would:
"Drink an entire bottle of vodka as well as consume a copious amount of Qualudes and let the zombies eat her so it would slow them down and I could get away..."

Wow, take that Christian Slater!

Reezo

I'll show you. Lilac Wine, Reezo Mixtape.

2009-05-05T09:55:00.000-07:00

Heard a quote once, Art is a form of expression
And not decoration.
How true these words are that were ever spoken, but to you should I even verbally
Share my adoration?

You and I discuss our impressions of the matter over couple glasses of wine in a diner,
the evening air was a crisp one on the lane of queens…

Keeping quite vigilant and absolutely focused to your point of view,
It’s funny how we met, and how our one evening flourished in to two

I mean it’s one thing to say it over and over, until these simple words lose their luster.
Words are just words, verbs, nouns, adjectives. Often re-formed, re-imaged, re-cycled
In to some trifling cluster.
A cluster?
A cluster fuck
However, it’s not like when we…ah hem…
Excuse me that’s one of the many times I can show you without uttering a word, well maybe a few grunts, or a devilish moan.
And yes continuing on and on, to this that and the third is a thing I won’t stand for nor shall I condone.
But back to a cluster…
Well maybe not, can’t help myself to stop from thinking, speaking, or even beginning to keep myself tame,
Like when I start to consider playing billiards in the sky, knocking around the stars and making a new constellations in your name.
Wait a minute I’m getting carried away haha…

To each person and to each person spent, the experiences are different, He’ll fill you cup with one drink and I’ll fill it with the next.
So on the real I get you, carefree, and free spirited, as you want to be,
But when the moments we share, it’s just you and…That first glass of wine is finished
Let’s have another, maybe even talk about the things that don’t need to be mentioned.

I break away from your eyes, and noticed your leg needs to be rubbed, so I lift it on to mine and continue to speak simply with just my hands, with my look, and later my lips will make your entire body smile, yeah I suppose I am of you quite fond.
And before I abscond…
Or should I say your clothes abscond, on to the floor, under the bed, and near the door. I’ll express to you with out words…

I enjoy the,
Walk in the park.
Cigarettes on the bench.
The stolen pint we shared…fuck it I’ll just show you.

Contact

2009-05-04T10:12:00.000-07:00

How often do you pretend that you don’t recognize someone because they might not remember you? And why, if you aren’t really friends with this person, do you give a fuck?

Some days I feel like I’m back at the sandbox approaching potential playmates with a face wrenched in caution. Yes, even at 4, I could furrow a mean brow. Maybe I’ll start building a small city on the outskirts of their peripheral hoping for a greeting or comment… what are the odds of her pony attacking my dinosaur? This is not working. Perhaps I’ll make louder truck noises. Pitchfork gave truck noises an 8.4. Still, nothing. Have to up the ante, jam my digits into my pockets and extract yesterday’s gummy bears. Squishy, warm and colourful - A lava-life profile in the palm of my hand.

Maybe we’re too wrapped up in our own egos to really see each other. Conversations turn into dueling dialogues sprinkled with self-deprecation for thin disguise. If I wasn’t so wrapped up in my own hang-ups, fear and overwrought bullshits* I would probably see yours real easy. That alone could give us enough common ground for something approaching honesty. Oh shit, we’re on the brink of taking a risk and that would just not work with my fresh new kicks. Yeah, I know my t-shirt is sick – I got it at a place you’ve never heard of that voluntarily went out of business cause 1986 called and wanted her ambition back.
“What?”
“What?”
“What the fuck?”

This confusion makes me thirsty. Let’s get drunk and talk about all the projects we’d make happen if it wasn’t so fucking sunny.

*the plural was intentional, bitches

Natural High (Bloodstone) #18 Reezo Mixtape

2009-05-01T14:42:00.000-07:00

Bloodstone - Natural High
Uploaded by PeteRock

The love affair (prologue.)

This story may or may not have happened…or maybe it happened to you.

Waking up the next day with you, the two of us scantly clad, dressed only in the comforter tripping on what transpired the night before…

“So will he still respect me tomorrow”
The question that must be running through your mind right now.

You begin to vocalize this thought but I begin to interject.
I have a promise to keep.
stroking the back of your head, and my lips descend feverishly
down to your shoulders.

Each peck, lick, and bite affirming my response
“Tonight you can be someone else,
I don’t need to know your past
and you don’t need to know mine
“I wouldn’t even begin to judge you,
when I should be the one doing time.”

I want to see all the colors we got going on this room…
I see the red shoes, pink blush, and the sheets are blue,
These are some of the shades of this love affairs many hues.

Right now all I want to do is map the illustrated story on your skin,
A sweet bouquet blooming on your shoulders, a couple of swallows in the fine weather
Wait a sec, what are those words transcribed across your abdomen?

Oh right, I agree we do often flock together…

To be continued.

Reezo

A past muse...Sometimes I draw. The Reezo sketchbook

2009-04-30T14:51:00.000-07:00

Her beauty ran skin deep,
saw it best when she was asleep.

Reezo

Half truths and a bottle of red

2009-04-30T10:28:00.000-07:00

Tell me about your day, your weekend and your political leanings for the summer. Tell me the decade you should have been born in. I don’t care.

Tell me about the last boy who was cold and strange but left you a little sore for two whole days after. I’m not really listening.

Insinuate me in your dreams. What does my white tiger doing laps in your champagne glass mean? It was you, but with a different face. We aren’t really just friends after last week.

I’m looking and your neck and needing a taste. I’m suspicious of your warmth getting wet by the way your right leg is crossed toward me and your nervous foot is wiggling itself out of a lie. The best part is that neither of us wonders what our kids might look like. I’d love to bite you again but loving you is well out of the question… and you feel the same so thank you. Let’s just call this what it is, and stop with the circles and stories. All this sparring makes me want to punch something, but wouldn’t we rather sink our teeth into each other again? Inscribe yourself in my skin with fingernails and cigarettes. Count your victories on this pillow with it’s droplets of blood. Spit it back in my mouth if you’re feeling a little sinister. I’ll pin you down and take good care – give or take an emotional bruise. But let’s not ever make any plans or promises we don’t intend to keep. Neither of us need anymore permanent damage.

Say it loud, and say it proud...A man's world #3 Reezo mix tape.

2009-04-30T09:37:00.000-07:00

So what does it mean to be a man?

This was a question I asked a few people a while back. Modern Romance means being a Modern Man but still in that Clint Eastwood, Gary Cooper, or even in the Conan the Barbarian sort of way: the strong and silent type, and getting the job done. It seems we are a generation of, well to put it frankly pussies. We wear shades and hide behind a false smile hoping all the while no one will see us for what we are...

Hey, I do believe that women are equal, with my rib you were created right? Still it is a man's word but like JB said "It don't mean nothing without a woman or a girl." You are the reason we try to create most of the wonders of the world today,as a testament to you...build the highest structures to look in the eyes of God, and even defy nature...all in your name.

Let's face it though they still need a man, 1 part gentleman and 1 part barbarian. Sure I'll hold door open for you, give you flowers, and do my best to appreciate all the simple and sweet sentiments, but in the same breath without warning take you when need be, say no when need be, and throw a mean battle axe.

One of my favorite answers to this question was by my friend Lou:
" It means running along the country side in a loin cloth with a big ass sword slaying mythical beasts"

Girls does that make you hot, and what does this mean to you?

Reezo

Ghost Story

2009-04-30T07:49:00.000-07:00

Have you ever seen a ghost? Takes you back to someplace you haven’t been in a while with songs you can’t listen to anymore? You get left a little winded and feel your colour and faith leaving your face. Knees buckle and all you can do is keep cool and maybe fake a hello… or maybe you invest half of yourself into putting one foot in front of the other and the other half in not looking back.

For the good times...the love affair...track number 15 on the reezo mix tape

2009-04-29T11:05:00.000-07:00

Listen and read...

Let's listen to the sweet-tempered melodic tones of the raindrops hitting the window sill on the day you lay in bed with your lover tangled in a picturesque anatomic knot like something Gustav Klimt would paint, exchanging prolonged glances, relishing in the taste of lover's spit and that sweet tempo of your pelvis coming to a union with theirs (man, I'm trippin' today) Seriously though, forget for even a moment worrying about the what if's and the could have been's. Sometimes it is what is, i'm talking about the love affair.

Own that moment...

All love is different, thankfully for that. Fuck wasting time thinking about some distant ex who's probably off somewhere else (hopefully with his/her hair on fire having the worst sex of their life in a doo doo infested ditch laced with heroin needles)
...I digress, jokes aside that way of thinking is utterly and completely useless.
Time becomes irrelevant when you're in the moment accept the fact that it could be months to years, hours or even minutes...but when it's time to go, bridges don't need to be burned and let's try walk away with some dignity

p.s.
Damn, If I had to give up any ability I had now to sing like Al Green I would in a heartbeat. Most dudes these days try to sing directly to the vagina, although that works on a surface level this man dug deep not only did own the holiest of holes but the dude was the gatekeeper to the heart.

Reezo

Play To Win

2009-04-28T13:56:00.000-07:00

Let the stupids have their moment in the sun. We'll remain as flowers on the wall nodding in full acceptance of the proposed regime...all the while winking at each other through the chinks their armor. Just pick your battles and don't worry about it so much. Nostalgia is merely mood lighting nowadays, but Miles Davis on your ipod is still Miles Davis, so your stresses are your own. Compliance is not ignorance when you claim your own objectives.

Fuck the big picture. Fuck integration. Just chill the fuck out. Hang on, sorry, I've got a Tweet. It's my mother, thanking me for the flowers. The message is the message...fuck the medium.

Look, I can't relax either, and I'm a nice guy and deserve to be well adjusted. I still see pure unadulterated beauty in the little things, and I could wax poetic on this plastic bag swirling around me all day...but I've got people to avoid and it's exhausting, albeit impossible.

In the end, I simply choose the blue pill, not the red one...the blue one keeps me hard...and if that keeps me in the arms of a warm, soft, human woman...then I win.

Dan - 1. Stupids - 0.

Modern Romance isn't about ideology, it's about necessity. Don't hate the game, just play to win.

At A Place to Bury Strangers Show...

2009-04-28T11:28:00.000-07:00

Thoughts on a Saturday night…
Story about a boy who meets a girl.
It's been a while since he met someone who can truly appreciate absolute ability of comfort...
Although it is a concept he is not used to,
He rarely gets excited with most, but this time is different…
Just be cool he tells himself, Ice cold.
Funny how these words play over and over in his mind,
Funny how these words begin to build a foundation of pure confusion,
Funny how these words actually don't make him cool.

So she has been in relationships, some good some bad
the usual routine moments of wonderful bliss,
and the unexpected stumbles in a sometimes-resentful waltz.
It's not usually easy to get her heart, but when she decides to
give it away, it's a treasure undeserving of most…
I need to let go, I need control.
Funny how these words play over and over in her mind,
Funny how it’s hard to silence those feelings of sentiment and romance,
Funny how that for her it is so natural.

She sometimes used to think…

“So how often can a person, meet someone who’s a natural?
A bit crazy, but the right kind of crazy,
A bit cheesy but the right amount of cheese,
Chill, not ice cold, but hot, not Luke warm,

Routine but always changing?

Sentimental about sentiments…”

Although these are strange ingredients, they are truly only for an acquired taste.

What’s unnatural to him is how natural she seems, and what's natural to her was not expecting to meet one so unnatural to what she might have been used to…

“I’m not looking, but this is nice.” She thinks
“I wasn’t expecting for her to actually be cool.” He thought.

Hours fly by, the layers of well composed moments of an un-orchestrated evening lead them to a place of lights, sound, and consumable spirits. The two of them share laughs over a few cigarettes…

“I think you’re pretty gosh darn cute.“
He smiles, thinking about how cheesy that sounded

She responds, with a smile
“I think you are too.”
A moment of relief waves through him…
Just the right amount of cheese he thought

They carry their conversation back inside, and to the bands they where watching. A few more pints, and more laughs.

The final band takes the stage. All night he wanted to kiss her but he kept it cool, the moment was never right, and to be honest he was actually enjoying her company so much he forgot about it until he looked at her and thought…

“So how often can a person, meet someone who’s a natural?
A bit crazy, but the right kind of crazy,
A bit cheesy but the right amount of cheese,
Chill, not ice cold, but hot, not Luke warm,

Routine but always changing?

Sentimental about sentiments…”

“She’s not looking, but this is nice.” he thought.
“I never expected him to actually be cool,” She thought.
And at that moment the two kissed for the second time, but still building to the first. It was good but not over done…
The possible potential of what’s to come…

Talk to you soon…

End Part 1.

Reezo

Waltz in a Minefield

2009-04-28T10:08:00.000-07:00

The first warm, slow notes… so where should I start? I want to tell you something old in a way you haven’t known before. I’d like to give you a sweet sound but you’ve already heard Smokey Robinson. I want to impress you with sadness and knowledge but you’ve gone and read too many books. I would settle for giving you my most sincere self and inspiring yours - eventually blowing both our fucking minds with possibilities and the impossibility of us ever not having known each other before today. But we’ve already fallen in and out of love enough to suspect the worst. So after quantifying our pain in other people and places with their intimate tastes and insecure fists, we strive for numbness. Meanwhile, we guard carefully against cynicism in varying degrees - depending on whether or not it helps get us laid. But enough of us, we don’t quite work that way yet.

I want to stand in the rain outside that window for 99 consecutive nights waiting for her to realize I am totally fucking serious. (I’m just not sure that level of commitment wouldn’t get me committed.) I’d like to quit my job and run away with her… into the woods or just somewhere quiet. But most of all I would give anything - whether it was money or blood or just bad advice, to forget I ever set eyes on her. So that’s were I’m at sort of. I’m not sure if I’m running from it, killing it, or waiting for it to find me.

“It” wears snake-skins under heavy mascara, chain-smoking tobacco and raspberries rolled in lost post-cards. “It” sings like the angels, dances like a devil and fucks somewhere in between. “It” holds so tight you can’t breathe, but even God can’t help you when it lets go.

I heard rumors it was stabbed in an argument outside a shelter in Alberta. Other people say it was laying low, running karaoke nights in Brantford and getting weened off junk. Then my good friend told me something I think might be closer to the truth. It just sort of changed and grew up. Or we grew up and changed it. It runs a little faster now, but maybe not as deep. Chivalry has been traded for irony, damaged hearts get worn like gaudy bracelets and loyalty has gone out of style. It’s going to take a while for me to figure out this modern romance.

What is Modern Romance...

2009-04-28T07:43:00.000-07:00

Well that's the question. There was a time when courting the opposite sex seemed to be pretty straight forward, You see the woman/man (how ever you swing it, we are modern dudes so we won't judge) and you walk up to them and you say hi...crazy shit right? Often the simple things begin to build a foundation that could possibly last a lifetime... maybe not as simple and well that was back in the day.
So I'm sitting here now listening to Al Green's "For the good times" (Great song by the way if you haven't you should listen) and remembering the times when meeting a girl was actually a big deal, When that person was all that you saw, the voices of others toned down to a muted hum, and all you had was the thoughts of sitting on a park bench in the summer sharing a Carvel ice cream sandwich listening to Slick Rick's Teenage Love from the boombox...well I was only 10 when that song was hot but I suppose I was a romantic at an early age. I think that was when I started writing things for girls in my old black and white composition book, mostly bad rap songs, cheezy poems, and drawings of snoopy in ray bans and gold chains (hey girls like snoopy back then for some reason) I found as I got older I still do that stuff well minus building the Rap career of "Ill Fresh Rhymin' Reem"...on the real that was my rap name...glad I got into drawing.
Well, just these few thoughts and others run through my mind more and more these days, when we were young we took chances 'cause the shit was new. Heartbreak was a destination that you didn't travel to until much later in life...or when the summer ended and that girl you were playing on the swings with went back to school far away...Damn, Tisha I still miss you.
Nowadays we have the internet the current living testament to the marvel of man, I admit I love this thing it's a great tool for gathering information, social networking, and watching free shit, However it seems to have fucked up how we interact with each other. Instead doing this for real, we do it virtually, instead of sitting hours on end by the radio making a the mix (cassette) waiting for...(shit press record/play)...the perfect song...(ok it's ended press pause) now we can download already made body of tracks. We'll talk about the power of the mix tape next post. Instead of asking a person out we now "creep" on various social networks because hey let's face it shit is way easier than looking a person in the eye and asking them out, and instead of walking down to the local ice cream stand, I can send a virtual ice cream sandwich to you on FB.
Listen I'm not hating, and I would be a big hypocrite if I did. We all do it, but where do we draw the line, how do we mix old school values and ride the wave of the new?
Well That what this blog is all about. You may or may not agree with the stuff that me and my comrades of Modern Romance will talk about, and that's cool which is why we want to share ideas with y'all and hear some of yours. Every now and then we will write our thoughts, share a cheezy poem, post videos, talk about the mix tape etc.

Reezo