Saturday, November 19, 2011

Bits of a Dream

I've created a new song. Lately this has become an obsession of mine.

This song's titled Bits of a Dream.

Press The Play Button!
 Bits of a Dream by Mad Vibes 

Saturday, November 12, 2011

a melodic mixture production

I started working on this yesterday (Friday November 12) in between study periods. I had no real intentions of trying to mix it into a song, but I became consumed by the project. By applying different instrument plugs, creating over 10 tracks, an enthusiasm to produce unique sounds, and no real knowledge of what I'm doing--this is the result. If you decide to listen please do give me your opinion.

The song is called: Insomnia

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

A time ago

Most days of the week after classes we would always hang out at Laura's place. She lived in an apartment building on the north end of town. The place was haggard. Right across the street from a prison. Pretty much as downtown as you could get. If I had to decide on what to consider the slums of that city, that was it, dead centre. It's not like any of us had nice places or any money considering we were students, but we managed to entertain ourselves with the little we had. As you walked into the lobby there were often homeless people trying to keep warm, begging for cigarettes, or at worst trying to follow us into the building.

This one guy was laying down across the front entrance wearing what looked like his entire wardrobe. He had a big beard and a stench of body door surrounded him. My nose stung as I walked past him but I tried  to ignore it so I wouldn't cause any issues. I pressed the buzzer.

"Hey," crackled Laura's voice through the intercom.

"It's me."

The clank of the door unlocking caused the man to get up. "Hey my friend lives here and I can't remember his apartment number. I know where his room is though," he tried to explain.

My heart raced. He looked like a junky and I'm sure that there were dealers for every drug within that complex. Gangs and guns and thugs, people pushing heroin, the most extreme. Maybe not, but it wouldn't have surprised me. So I told him, "I don't think it's a good idea." I should have just quickly walked in and pretended not to hear him. But I didn't.

"What do you mean, not a good idea? I have just as much right as you to come and visit my friends."

His argument was poor so I decided to indiscreetly call him out before sliding through the door and locking him out behind me. "At least I remember my friends apartment number. I told him, "That gives me more right than you." I reached for the handle but the man shoved himself in front if me, knocking me back a few steps. He reached for the handle but it had already relocked. I was trapped in the cubicle class corridor of the entrance with him.

"Your a little shit you know that? All I wanted was to visit my goddamn friend." He was starting to get hostile so I backed away and turned to leave. I imagined him coming up behind me and knifing me in the back or something, but I just didn't want to deal with him so I didn't look back.

"Where do you think your going?" he called at me. I could hear him following. "Come back here asshole," he shouted. I just kept walking, trying to ignore the harassment. The parking lot was a dark stretch, probably the worst place I could have turned. I was starting to panic just before a set of headlights turned in.

"Hey Sam, what are you doing wandering around out here? Your car is parked right by the door."

I jumped into Jack's front seat without answering.

"What's wrong?"

"Just drive, don't stay here. Someone is following me."

"Dude, just chill. No one is following you."

He must have seen the fear in me because he followed my directions.

"Where should I go?"

He had left the parking lot and turned onto the road facing the front entrance. As we went by I searched for the man. There was nobody to be seen anywhere, and the entrance was clear.

"This is stupid. There's no one anywhere. You're just trippin'."

I hesitated, but agreed, "Okay let's just go in then."

Saturday, October 29, 2011

How did this occur?

You know that feeling when your sitting there, freaking out inside, but you just sit there trying to compose yourself? You can feel you heart beating against your rib cage, blood trying to push out of your ears. That's what stress does.

"It won't be that bad," she warned. But she didn't tell me I was going in alone. She told me we were partners, half and half, but it started to feel like I was getting pushed into all of the dirty work.

"I'm not doing that," I told her.

"You have no choice. He said it's you or no one. We can't get in any other way."

I didn't say anything right away while she stared at me. I wanted to say no. I wanted to overpower her glare, but it had no mercy over me. "There's no other way?" I asked, already knowing what the answer was.

"There's no other way Ollie." She was the only person to ever call me Ollie besides my parents. The situation I was in was a result of me trying to impress her. "You know you can be a real chicken shit sometimes. You told me once that you were fearless."

She was right, I did say that, but I didn't imagine what was happening.

"Think about all of the people we will disappoint. Think about how made we will be."

I finally worked up the courage to say, "Fine. I'll do it," but I didn't know if I actually would. It was more of a way to avoid dealing with the situation for a little bit.

"Just relax," she suggested. "Why do you have to be so tense all the time?"

I replied with a subtle shrug. "I guess it's just in my nature." I have pondered her suggestion, those simple words, 'just relax.' It seems so simple, yet it's impossible.

"Let's go to my place. I'll help you relax." She winked a naughty gesture. I knew exactly what was planning.

I least I thought I did.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

A Moment of Clarity - Continued... (Scene 4)

            When I made it to the top of the cliff I was panting heavily. I stopped to look around at the houses that surrounded the area. They were all massive estates, obviously dwellings for the rich. I thought about ringing one of their bells but to tell you the truth I felt intimidated. My house was only about five blocks from where we were so I grabbed my bike and made my way. Of course I didn’t have my phone on me because I left it at home during our excursions so that I would have no outside distractions from those joyous moments. I was also scared that I would ruin it.

            I lightly peddled enjoying the crisp feeling of the fall air not really thinking about the pain I had left Colton in. I don’t know why exactly but I decided to not find help. Although he was my best friend he was a prick and I enjoyed the thought of him suffering. It was an act of vengeance, one I’m not so proud of, but that’s what you get for getting with your best friends girlfriend.

            Kendra was her name, a petite and very attractive girl that I gave my heart to in grade ten. She was my first lover and I must say she was good at it. Her body was perfect but her mind was evil. We dated for two years before I found out that Colton fucked her, and not just once. He was doing it routinely behind my back for months. When I found out I freaked on both of them, making Kendra fill with tears and temporarily discarding Colton as a friend. After about three months of him begging for forgiveness I decided to allow him back into my life because unfortunately, we were best friends. He was pretty much my only friend. But now he was going to finally pay for what he’d done so long ago.

            I walked into my house. My roommate Stan was watching a movie with his haggard looking girlfriend Tanya. She was completely disgusting in my eyes but I guess that would be because I compared her to the attractiveness of Kendra. She was still the only girl I loved despite our years never talking and the handful of pointless lays that have got me through our breakup.

            “Hey Nolan. What are you up too?” asked Stan.

            I replied, “Not much,” and left them to their business. Stan was not ugly and I couldn’t understand how he could lower his standards enough to accept a girl like Tanya. She was repulsive, the way she ate, the clothes she wore, her views on life, there was nothing I could find attractive about her. I hated the images of what their sex must be like, but to all there own I guess.

A Loss of Courage

            I was studying in the college library before class. My feet were rested on a coffee table surrounded with a couple chairs, one that I had claimed, and a couch. I had my laptop open on my lap and I was entranced in my work until I noticed someone sitting across from me.

            A girl whom I’ve never seen before sat down and opened her binder to study. She sat passively and to me she seemed lonely. As soon as I noticed her I had trouble paying attention to my work. I glanced at her, probably more than would be socially appropriate, but it was hard not to. I didn’t know if she even acknowledged me but she was absolutely gorgeous! The most attractive girl I’ve ever seen.

            Her eyes were light blue, her hair as dark as it could be and she sat innocently while I struggled to build enough confidence to try and start a conversation with her. I couldn’t find the words to say and I didn’t want to look intrusive so I just continued reading, thinking about what I should do. The clock was ticking and I had fifteen minutes before my next class and time was running out.

            I took out my notebook and wrote my name and number. I thought that maybe if I gave it to her before leaving she might call me back, or if she didn’t at least I tried. My mind wandered with what to say. I thought that maybe if I said, ‘Excuse me. I have never done this before but you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,’ and gave her the piece of paper before leaving it might seem flattering to her. That was the idea I was going to do.

            I packed up my things, except for the piece of paper I wanted to give her and walked up to her. I was about to say something when I lost all words. My heart was pounding and I couldn’t do it. I put the piece of paper into my pocket and walked to class never saying a word.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

The Play

My mind seems to wander in a circle with no end
Like a road that keeps going, one which I depend
On the art that surrounds me, the most indirect
It's the things that go on I’d never suspect

Through a changing perceptions the clouds change their form
From light to dark my surroundings forlorn
But just for a moment until I push them away
You’ll always be the same because that’s how you stay

Inside my own world apart from the rest
This is a place where I sometimes feel best
A tree loses its texture but next spring it will bloom
But we’re all part of a play so never assume

Friday, September 16, 2011

A Moment of Clarity - Continued (scene 3)

(Part 3) 

           “Let’s wander down through the woods,” suggested Colton one time.
            “Yeah that might be fun,” I replied. It was one of those grey colorless days where everything seemed awkwardly still. The leaves were starting to turn their fall colors and were piling on the streets from the shedding of their summer dress. We were cruising the streets on bikes, me with a bright green cruiser and Colton with a black BMX. We often wandered the streets in search of ideas for films and searching for artistic scenery.
            “Check this path out." suggested Colton, "we have to take it.” He pointed to a cliffs edge. “If we climb to that ledge and use those vines to cross that part,” he pointed, “we can make it to that ridge and take the path down next to the river.”
            It seemed dangerous, but thrilling, so I accepted the idea so I ditched my bike against a tree and started climbing, but let him take lead.
            “Watch it,” I warned him. He wasn’t taking any time to try and swing himself down with style. So many terrible images went through my head of what would happen if one of us fell.
            “Stop being such a pussy Nolan.”
            “Fuck you,” I laughed and I tossed a small branch at him. The moment I threw it I realized he wasn’t paying attention and I remember the feeling of regret as soon as it left my hand and started whirling towards my face. It seemed almost slow motion and just as it was reaching him he turned his head and it stuck right into his eye. He screamed and let his grip off from the branch and slipped down a steep dirt edge through shrubs and bushes. I felt comfort by the fact that it was bushes rather than rock but when that blood-curdling scream rang from below I knew something terrible must have been wrong.
I asked him if he was okay and he shouted, “I think my leg is broken, it hurts so bad. Oh my god Nolan you need to get help.”
I climbed down to reach him and I wish I didn’t. The sight was grotesque. He had landed in between two logs and broke his leg at his shin and the force must have pulled him hard because it was completely bend as if he had two knees on that leg. He was so pale white he looked like a ghost. “It’s broken. It’s so broken,” he whimpered, “You need to get help.”
“Where should I go?” I looked up the large cliff edge I’d have to climb to reach civilization and tried to understand how help could even get to the location we were at.
            His helpless struggling eyes stared deep into me while he cried, “Please just find someone, I need help Nolan!”
            I panicked, turned and left him, and made my way up the cliff to get out of the forest and back into the city center. 

Thursday, September 15, 2011

A Moment of Clarity - Continued...

(part 2)

That doesn’t bother me, but what does is that no one pays any attention to anything that I throw on it. I take as much time as I can, try to act as professional as I can, and I always manage to convince anyone I decide to use in my parts and create films that are somewhat how I envision them. But still there is never any traffic on any of my sites. I’m not sure weather it’s my “networking” skills or if it’s because I trust Colton with my media output. He is my partner in this ordeal, the profession which we’ve both obsessed since high school, so naturally he's become my partner in business.
            We both took a class that was supposed to be a photography workbook beginner tech class in high school but we convinced Mr. Lukas, our teacher, that we were worthy of taking film early. The film portion of the class was supposed to be for third year students only but with a bit of sly talking Colton and I took that class for the entire three years of high school and skipped all pre-rec work. “I already know about different lenses, the aperture, contrast, shutter speeds, lighting angles, my dad is really big into photography,” I told him, which was a lie. My dad wouldn’t know how to turn on a camera let alone become an expert with one. If it wasn’t something heavy that he could pick up than it didn’t matter to him. “If you let me into the third year program I could spend three years creating a masterpiece, rather than one, and it could be something big.” I tried desperately to convince him that I was some prodigy and he fell for it.
            “Okay, okay Nolan.” He stretched out his words has he thought about how to deal with me. “I think that we could work something out but you will at least have to take a test on the basics of photography so I can get permission from the school board to let you do this.”
            “Sure,” I replied and that was that. The test took maybe ten minutes and an hour every day became nothing but creating films with friends. We’d always have friends skip their classes, or get permission even, to come and film during our tech class. When we all turned sixteen and started getting cars the class became even more fun. We rented out cameras, got in our cars and took off, usually not even taking the time to turn on the camera within the hour of class. We’d have races through gravel roads, highways sometimes, even through town, and we planned our destinations over cell phone usually with passengers doing the talking. We’d come up with games, such as hide and seek. One time we even drove out into the country, kicked out Mark, who was the easiest to manipulate, and everyone else shot fireworks at him while he ran from us. He trotted in a pool of adrenaline as flame balls zipped past his head, bounced against trees, the ground, and danced bright colors all around him. 

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

A Moment of Clarity

This is the beginning of a fictional piece I just recently started writing. I'm hoping to expand this piece to create a depiction of the city I have been living in, Red Deer, while using fictional characters and an exploration of the human psyche to express the truth behind the reality that exists.

Suddenly I’ve realized the truth behind my reality. I usually freaked out at social events because I hate not having loneliness. The dark confines of what makes up the inner chamber of my room is all I’ve been able to grow accustomed to. In any place I’ve ever called home there was always a room where I could escape the torture of others and call the space my own. My belongings, the little I needed to feel material satisfaction is always neatly packed neatly into whatever rented space I’ve managed to salvage.
            I disconnect from the world and live in a transcend state of focus. It could turn out good but I can never stay enthralled in one thing too long. It’s been music, an attempt to exploit my feelings through sound, mostly sticking to acoustic guitar, writing novels that I never get around to publish, or even try, video comedies created out of script I’ve written, documentaries, and the video’s I like to think are art that contain nothing but beautiful sceneries and the music I write while expressing how that moment taking the  photography made me feel.  
            Colton always convinced me that my talent could go somewhere. He pushed me to take my ideas further so that’s what I always did. I spent hour’s alone typing scripts to film with people I could gather up for the parts. I usually tried to create scripts out of the people around me so that I could use them as my subjects. It was a fun game, forming people’s lives, so that’s what became my goal.
            My parents hated my idea’s, my frame of mind, style, direction, they just hated all of what I stood for. My dad was the heavyweight tough guy type and my mom was the type who just followed and supported every idea or thought that he had no matter how rational it seemed.
            “Can you believe this kid,” he would say. “The runt of the family.” He would laugh it off as if it was no big deal but it was torture. I was different than my brother, the athletic one. I wasn’t unfit or anything, averagely built, but they obsessed about the stature of their bodies. “Eat shit,” I’d reply, wanting to say so much more but scared of the force behind those people. They became consumed by their obsession to a point that they were becoming angry monsters. My brother was three years older that me, a first place champion in high school football and he thought it gave him the right to torture, belittle, and push me into the ground as I grew up. I didn’t realize until I ran away that life could be so peaceful, so easy.
            I moved out on a low-end job with aspirations of making it as an independent filmmaker. I wanted to stick to my routs as a Canadian and try to express my city, Red Deer in the light that no one ever cared to share. Every place has its interactions, it’s feuds, it’s struggles and beuties, but it is only by the told that anything ever becomes known. I wanted to mean something, make my life something worthwhile, and that’s how the obsession of documentation came about in my life. It’s not just me who has it. I mean look at the world. It’s nothing but a bunch of people trying to mean something and we’ve become nothing but an endless form of media pushed by the public through the Internet with aspirations of acknowledgement.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Welcome to Arcata

“Can I have one of your cigarettes?” asked a girl wearing a blue zip up sweater that bulked up the top of her body. She had long dark hair and an anxious look on her face as if she’d just taken a gulp of spoiled milk.

“Ah sure,” replied Jeff reaching into his pack for a camel 99.

I offered her a light and tried to be polite with small talk. “Are you from around here?” I asked.

“Naw. Kentucky. You?”

“Canada,” I said, not being specific assuming that she wouldn’t know details anyway.

“Oh wow, so far. You drove here?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I shrugged not thinking anything of the question. I had assumed that she was in her early twenties on a travel with some friends or something and I was eager to meet some inhabitants of the foreign land I was wandering. We had parked in a stall along City Square and decided that wandering on foot was probably more efficient. We hadn’t planned on drinking due to the fact that we were driving. We searched the scene for a coffee shop or something to give us somewhere to chill for a bit but the entire city square was nothing but loud music, alcohol, drugs, and people shoving through each other to get to the next place. We walked across the two-lane one way that circled the perimeter of the grass island that created the center square. The area was filled with nicely trimmed grass surrounded by flowerbeds, benches, and paved pathways surrounding a center manifold of well designed floral patterns of vibrant patterned colors. There were palm trees lining the area with a unique stone pattern wrapping around a central flowerbed and benches. When we gave up on our search for coffee the center island seemed like the only reasonable spot to rest our feet. We walked to the inner center and sat down on the concrete edge. It was at this spot when we met Katy.

“I came here with my boyfriend and some friends,” she told us as if warning us to not make any moves, “but they’re getting food. Wanna meet ‘em?”

I replied, “Sure,” even though I was slightly nervous of being introduced as a foreigner to a bunch of locals. The worst ideas always ran through my mind. Friends called me sketch as a joke and always made sure to remind me of my frequent paranoia.

“There they are,” she burst out as the group submerged from the bustle of the streets. She introduced Jeff and I to them. “They are Canadians,” she added, while all of her friends warmly welcomed us with handshakes. Two of them were carrying grocery bags, which they unpacked revealing a bag of twelve bread rolls, sandwich meat, and a pack of processed cheese.

“Want a sandwich?” a tall skinny man asked. He was wearing a unique grey suede cap with a button on the front that attached to the brim. It reminded me of something my grandpa used to wear but he gave it a vintage sort of appeal. I politely refused his sandwich and continued trying to introduce myself to everyone welcoming me. Jeff seemed thrilled to have so much attention and I went with it not wanting to bring down his mood.

We were in a town called Arcata, in California. We drove my 92 Ford ranger from Alberta, Canada with hopes of discovering new opportunities. Jeff and I worked together for Parks and Recreation of our town. We were as low on the hierarchical system as you could get, and we were there for far too long. We both had aspirations, talents, and dreams beyond that mindless, unsatisfying labor that we pushed through for nearly three years of our lives. There were old men in their forties and fifties who had been working their for decades, still at the bottom of the hierarchy, and everyday they shared their desires for a new life. We were both still in our twenties, barely, free of debt, and we were single. Jeff had broken up with his girlfriend about four months before I was dumped by Julie. In a way, that trip was therapeutic for both of us. It was through Jeff’s influence that we ended up in California.

Friday, August 19, 2011

The Beauty of San Fran

This is a video put together from mine and Joash's clips combined. This is the wonderful editing work of Joash Dipert.
Watch and Enjoy!

Friday, August 12, 2011

Truck Burst Into Flames

When my friend and I were strolling around in Arcata we noticed a truck with smoke spilling out of it's windows. When we got closer we could smell a rancid stench and realized that something was on fire inside of the cab. We told some people about it and they phoned for help but by the time they got there it was too late. Some poor mans ford ranger was left in ruins but luckily I managed to capture it on film.

Adventure to San Fran

Dear Readers,

My trip to Cali has been great so far. We stopped in Arcata to search for adventure last friday night and after wandering the town we ended up in the town square. The entire town is pretty much built around this square which we discovered is the heart of the night life around this area. We stopped to sit on a concrete flower bed and were confronted by a girl whom we found out was from Nebraska. She told us that she had been travelling with a group whom she was waiting for and wanted to introduce us when she found out that we were also travellers. When her gang finally showed up they had a grocery bag packed with random food and they started making sandwiches with the random things they bought and shared generously with others around the square. We found out that two of her friends came from Maine on a Uhaul packed with people, a couple of them were from the bay area in San Francisco, and there were a few others that came from other places around America. While chatting with the group a woman carrying an infant walked by and introduced herself. When she found out we were Canadians she told us about a time when she snuck over the Canadian border without a passport to partake in a protest that took place in Quebec.

Later on during the week we stopped in Eureka with our instruments to jam on the pier and while we were playing we ran into the same girl who introduced us but she was with two other guys from Maine. We stopped to chat and they took part in a jam with us and told us some of their crazy adventures. They rented a uhaul with a fake name for a day and ended up using it for a week while they drove across the country to California. None of them had any money so they had to panhandle for cash to fuel their vehicle to keep going. They have been living homeless in California for weeks hoping to create new lives for themselves, find jobs, and become permanent residents but their current lives don't seem easy. We took them to Denny's and Joash bought them some food in an attempt to ease the discomfort of homelessness.

It is now friday and we are planning on making our way to San Francisco. Our trip was almost cancelled when my truck started to act up but I took it into a shop this morning and got it fixed for $130. It felt like a transmission or clutch problem which would have been expensive but luckily it was only a u-joint. That money set us back a bit but we are planning to make up for it by spending tonight in the back of my truck. Tomorrow morning we will be leaving my truck parked and travelling on bike to see the sights of the city. I will keep you updated on the events of our travels.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Midnight Jam in Eureka

A couple nights ago during our adventures in California Joash and I decided to take a stroll through Eureka. We took this bridge to an island that was basically a parking lot with boat docks all around it. Along the pathway was a bench facing a large statue of a fisherman where we decided to stop and take out our instruments for an end of the night jam. No one was there but we made some tunes anyway and created a piece on the spot which we managed to capture on film. These midnight jams have become routine and in the near future we are hoping to piece together a song to do at an open jam night somewhere.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Road Trippin'

I am currently in California with my friend Joash. We drove from Red Deer, Alberta and along the way we have been collecting film which we are putting together. Here is the first cut of the adventures so check it out.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011


Everyone has a story. It may not be structured, laid out, or even brought to the consciousness of anyone else, but it essentially existent within the mind that possesses it. The houses lining the bottom of the street beneath my apartment window all have their own story; separate from my own and ones I’ll never know. I’m free to guess based on the actors that submerge from the house, but the chances of accuracy are doubtful. I make inferences and judgments on people based on the vibes that they give me. “Vibes is the word I use for that unexplainable flood of emotions that seems to present us with the aura of a person. I’m sure it can be reasoned in more scientific terms but the spiritual idea seems so much more exciting. I could say that unconsciously by picking up on the body language of others emotions are created based on what we perceive them to be, such as distaste towards someone you think is being deceitful. It makes more sense explained that way but the idea of vibes makes it seem as if we can accurately read people based on feelings, almost a gift from an unknown essence.

Monday, June 27, 2011

The Chances?

The owner didn’t even live in the country. The club was his investment or some bullshit. I’ve only ever seen him once and I didn’t know I was talking to him until after.

It was a dare. We were racing the golf carts through the course. We had a set rout down hole five, four, we cut back through hole 8 and across what we called the suicide plank. We did this race weekly. The entire rout is the roughest terrain to stretch over that land. We came close so many times of flipping and hitting each other. It could have been so bad. The best part was that it was all down hill from where we started so the golf carts go five times faster than normal and the bridge at the bottom was only wide enough for one cart. On one race it was so close against Colby and I. He managed to win every time and it was my chance. I was getting that paralyzing feeling you get when you are on a roller coaster. The bumps were making me nearly bounce out of my seat and I was terrified that if I let go I’d slide sideways and start flipping. I could have died for sure. We were so close I knew that he would shove me for the opening in-between the railings so I panicked and turned away from the bridge. I had no idea what I was doing. It was straight communication between adrenaline and my body.

I drove straight into the pond and sunk the cart beyond sight, or so I thought. The wind had made the water murky that day.

Some golfers were cruising towards us so I jumped on Zach’s cart to flee the scene but before we could make it anywhere one of them waved us down. My heart was pounding with fear that he witnessed what had happened. When we made it to him he just small talked a bunch of useless words. I could barely follow anything he was saying and before any of us had a chance to speak he would cut us off. I got so frustrated I just went and sat in the passenger seat of Zach’s cart while they continued talking for a bit.

When Zach hopped back in the cart he asked me, “Do you know who that was?”


“That’s the owner of this golf course.”