Nuit Blanche part duuuuhgh

"Duuuuuhgh" is how you say two in french, because french is fucking retarded.

After the fog thing at Nuit Blanche, we walked to the third floor of an art museum, which had a lot of wall-to-wall people, and things on the walls that we did not care about looking at. Mostly it just made me feeling closer to deaths, due to the mysterious affliction, which was probably antianxis plus booze plus food poisoning plus nihilisms, which equals death minus three after climbing three flights of stairs.

Do not worry, you can try out the numberss all you want, there is no mathemats between a flight of stairs and death, just because there happened to be three of each. Don't be so fucking neurotic, for jesuschrists' sakes.

After the museum, we drove to a part of Queen Street, i think. Queen Street had car washes with film loops, and another car wash with a giant ice block, which was supposed to melt all night long and reveal its artiness come the morn. But ice is translucent, dumbass, so i saw that it was just going to be a word, starting with 'd' and ending with 's', who cares we left after two minutes.

One storefront had a film loop of a time-lapsed robin's nest, projecting onto a large piece of cloth that would sway forth and back as people walked past, and there would be flickerings of the robin mom feeding the robin babes and the robin babes growing feathers and the nest being nestled with more twigs and the robins growing up and flying away and then it started all over again, all within thirty seconds, and that is the only thing that really made me stop to watch for a long time, because it was captivating, i was in a mood to appreciate observations over statements, i am usually in a mood to appreciate observations over statements, i am an overwhelmed guy who has been living with all of you people for so long, after all.

In the community pool you were allowed to swim all through the wee hours, in your tighty and hopefully tidy whiteys, and the pool ceiling was allowed reflectations due to its foilage, and there were a series of sound artists playing all night long. The schedule listed Windy & Carl at 2Am, which blew my mind. I love Windy & Carl, because they are the best at creating sounds that are not music that you still want to really listen to, because it is good for sleeping to or for spacing out, and probably for taking drugs to, or making music to take drugs to make music to sleep to, fuck yes. But anyways, i was hardly expecting to run into anything i would have recognized, so i was excited, even though my companions were not, and W&C were not as appropriate for a loud community pool, because they are better for fog, so we left after ten minutes of hearing them play two notes back and forth, which was just a mundane reminder for me of how brilliant they are. Here is a photo and a sound song.



Windy & Carl - Traveling

Afterwards, there were spooky tents set up in legions in a desolate park, that had reminders of life in mental institutions, like the one where you went into a tent and were supposed to write your name on a piece of paper with a pencil, and then erase your name, and carefully wipe the eraser shavings into a nearby glass vial; and there were canopies with projections of time-lapsed daytime skies on the undersides, replete with nature sounds, and things like this, but mostly i am not going to detail any more of it, as i am feeling tired and completely undervalued, like i am wasting your time and you are wasting mine, what is our problems are?