For Let, Cardboard Box, (3 bdrm) - November 26th, 2008

Oh, I forgot to mention, we have a room for rent. Ho oh hoh do we have a deal for you.

For only $800 dollars a month, plus $100 utilities, plus one plane ticket to London, you receive all the following benefits:

A mattress.

Walls painted yellow.

Occasional Hot Water (1/2 hour heating time excluded).

A washing machine in your kitchen.

Funny lightbulbs.

and, Sixty minutes an hour, twenty-four hours a day, seven whole days a week, ALL-ACCESS NICK.

A steal? A deal? Can this be for real?

You betcha! Now you too can savor the flavor of a shared lifestyle with Nick Kertesz. From the basements of Vancouver, to the run-down mansions of Halifax, from the star-lit lofts of Melbourne, to the llama-lit shacks of Bolivia, lucky folk the world over are crying out:

"Yes. You. Can!" (bring your own towels)

The London job economy is (s)HOT(s)HOT(s)HOT right now, with literally dozens of jobs available in the United Kingdom. As well, you'll experience what the world has already discovered, that the British culture is as sunny as it's climate. From gastronomy to fine dentistry, this is the Britain you've been just thinking about maybe visiting!

Don't let this bedroom pass you by folks, any minute now we'll have to give it away to one of the many, many squatters eager for our tenancy rights.

Besides...

How can you live without this?

Operators are standing by.

free to air - November 24th, 2008

Well, today was the end of the streak. Damn, that made 259 days without a job. I guess I could make a visual cue, let's see...

Okay, here we go:
Sigh. It was a good run. I wouldn't really recommend it without a determined time spent in countries where a good portion of barbecued cat is only fifty cents.

After passing up the creepy pseudo bar gig, I finally just followed the time honored tradition of following one's flatmates to their places of employment, in this case, a theatre. With hope the complexity of ushering will not overwhelm me.

Anyways, more to follow, some new ink and whatnot going on around town.

We burn Tony Blair's face - November 8th, 2008

It was Guy Fawkes Night on the fifth, and our celebrating involved much less alliteration than I had hoped.

Jess, Victoria, and I began our carousel as has become normative for me, by consuming many litres of delicious alcoholic cider, found in my favorite, and most economic vessel, a two litre plastic jug. There are many forms and varietals of this verbose treat, but sliding quickly down the economic scale from such branded pillars as Strongbow (3 pounds), to White Oak (2 pounds), then Ace Lightnin' (1.50), we arrive at my stalwart companion, Dry Cider (75 pence), which has followed the naming traditions of all discount brands, proving that the best way to pass the savings on to you, the consumer, is by removing that ever-costly Call Products By Anything Other Than Their Name department.

And so, tottering my way to the usual foreign oblivion, we obtained a large and rather gorgeous effigy of Tony Blair, and began the search for a suitable bonfire. Unfortunately it appears the traditions of random and uncontrolled fires in the street have been unexpectedly curtailed, and the groups looking for any bonfire would consist of us, grumpy anarchopunks, and every police officer in London.

But the police turned out to be quite helpful, often advising any wandering passerby such wonderful advice as:
"Looking for a fire? Because I sure am positive that while you are most certainly in the wrong place right now, there is most definitely going to be one at (insert any random place that is not where you are right now). "

Which is nice, unless of course some officer has just told you that there will be a large fire in your flat late on in the evening. In which case madlibs just lets you down.

Right, anyways, we went to a friend's flat to burn ol' Lap Dog, and he went up quite beautifully. I have no photos of his face melting, as I am a dumbass, but standard behaviour prior to his flammation went like this...



There will be more photos later, I went to the British Museum of Natural History, yes that one.

Oh wait, nonono, not that one.

Anyways, see ya.

Nick.

Taggin' - November 5th, 2008

I know, I know, I should be writing about the election, which decends upon us by the minute. But you know what, as always, I live in the future. And here, five hours from any time someone in Toronto could understand, and basically eons from the west coast, I can tell you such things as electoral policies have already sunk into the setting sun. I mean, try to imagine that we were protesting when Clinton was in charge, which now, seems abit like passing out leaflets in eden.

Anyways, and not too importantly, here are some of the first stencils I've been making.
I can't draw an original image to save my life, so everything is just drawn free hand from some image someone else has done. The pony was for Jess, but somehow with the neck of a giraffe. And it ended up somewhat pregnant.

man, I suck at this.

Oh well, when one is barely employed, one is a assuredly an anarchist.

n.

p.s. Mr. Nader, it's just not the same without you.