As a brief aside, anyone who is using the ngGallery plugin for word­press, and has it bug­ger­ing up their post­ing box (the Visual sec­tion being busted, being thrown straight to code mode etc) try making a copy of your editor_plugin.js file located in the wp-includes/js/tinymce/plugins/wordpress/ folder, and dump­ing a copy into the plu­g­ins direc­tory (one up from the word­press folder). It seemed to fix the prob­lem for me, though I recently upgraded to the 0.43a ver­sion so I don’t know what else it may have fixed.

So I went and saw The Faint play at the Opera House in Toronto last night, and I have to say that I wasn’t all that impressed. Don’t take that the wrong way, as I love The Faints music, and adore their first CD (Dance Macabre). I guess I was expect­ing some­thing a little more visu­ally crazy or inpres­sive. For a band that has music that forces you to dance to it by grab­bing you by the pelvis and raping you with joy-​joy music feel­ings, they were rather boring on stage. Their pro­jected back­grounds reminded me of a really tweeked-​out 80’s Mar­i­lyn Manson video, and the singer just stood there. On the note of tweeked-​out, the basest was totally tripped out for the dura­tion of the set though he still man­aged to play per­fectly well.

The open­ing bands (The Berg Sans Nipple, and Ser­vices) were both very impres­sive, though the medal goes to Ser­vices, and their totally fucked up singer. They may only be two people on a key­board and synth, but by god they were enter­tain­ing. Never have I seen a cymbal played so majes­ti­cally. As a result I did not get home till 2:30 in the morn­ing, which meant I got under 5 hours of sleep to my name.

I am cur­rently pow­ered by Red Rain and moxy.

On an unre­lated note, I have a letter I would like to write.

Dear Mother Nature,

Though I would take some time out of my busy day and write you a letter. I’ve known you all my life, or at least as long as I have been out of the hos­pi­tal since that day I escaped the womb.

You and me used to get along great, but then some­thing changed. Around the age of 11 you started to make the sun burn more hot and brighter then before, and my pale red-​head-​induced skin started to fry like bacon on a skil­let. I burned, I blis­tered, I lost sheets of skin. Fun was had by all par­ties, myself excluded.

I took this in good humour though, and decided simply to stay in doors or wear sun­screen when I had to exist under your white ball of agony.

Recently though, you have decided to up the tem­per­a­ture in my local area to 30+ degrees Cel­sius. This hurts the team on a lot of dif­fer­ent fields. My car does not have air con­di­tion­ing, my body hates any­thing above 18 degrees, and the heat makes me burn even easier.

What the hell? I thought you and I had an under­stand­ing. Appar­ently this is not the case.

Fuck you Mother Nature.

Get off your men­strual cycle and get your shit in order. Don’t hate on me just cause you bloat.

your pal,
 Corey

So yeah, it’s bloody hot around here.

Im’a gonna go play my geee­tar and relax for a while until this stuff wears off and I pass right out.

You could follow logic, or con­test it all
The work solu­tion makes the common house a home.

The Faint - Agenda Suicide.

Corey sign­ing off.