Lights, Camera, Action!

Yesterday I was Mr. Daddy Daycare. I had a great indoor play day on a rainy filled week. By the afternoon, when child number two was dropped off for a while, the living room looked like Toys R Us had vomited everywhere. The carpet was a minefield of building blocks, train tracks, hotwheels and locomotives, balls, hockey sticks and more balls. We had a blast building miniature cities with roadways and railroads as we all rolled on the ground and really got into playtime together.

In the middle of our hallway hockey night in Canada moment the phone rang as I made an amazing save with my face! As I got double teamed by two laughing midgets wielding hockey sticks in the air I reached for the phone, it’s my agent. My agent, ha-ha, makes me laugh just saying that. My wife and son have an agent, since they are the one’s who actually land auditions. But one day we ran into the agent while shopping and she said that I should send her my photo. So a few months ago being freshly unemployed I said why the hell not. I’ve never been interested in acting but I thought you never know, maybe one day you just happen to look like what they are looking for, give it a shot. The auditions are short and painless and it’s liberating not being attached to the results. So far I’ve auditioned for commercials for the cancer society and a Coors Mexico spot, which actually came down to me and another guy. Hilarious.

So my agent asks if I can go to an audition for today. Well the details alone on this spot inspired a lot of dreaming last night.

Shooting in either Europe or Shanghai, 4-6 shooting days
$500 session fee for 10hrs, overtime at $100 per hr.
All ground and air travel, hotel paid by production.
Buyout range from $4500-$10,000 depending on acting experience.

Jacques
He is in his late 30's. He is Italian or South France type of guy. Dark hair, good looking, elegant appearance and an amazing smile. Maybe even with light eyes. He is the leader of the group and keeps them together. Looking for strong acting. Black suit, white shirt, no tie, elegant.

Brad
He is young fighter and racer in his early 30's, much younger than Jaques. The "American dream“, blond guy who every woman checks out. Maybe short hair, very sporty and very classy. Looking for strong acting. Light suits. Beige or white. White shirt can have a big collar. Cool sunglasses.

Scene
Brad is driving the car while Jacques is the passenger.
They are in a hurry and as and they pass a speed-limit sign ..... ignoring it, of course.
But then..... suddenly the car slows down by itself.
Via a navigation-system it knows where you are and how fast you are allowed to drive.
So Jacques gives Brad a certain kind of look....saying " what´s wrong, why do you slow down - we are in a HURRY !

So looking devilishly handsome this morning, as my wife strategically mentioned massaging my ego nicely, I grabbed the next bus wearing my suit on route to the audition at Shoreline Studios. Jacques was on his way! As I approached the building it was like a scene from the Matrix as Neo-Jacques’ converged from all corners of the street and headed to the front door. Everyone I saw I either said “hello Jacques” or “hello Brad” as I jokingly stayed in character. When I arrived into the holding room there was only one Brad surrounded by a group of dark haired Jacques’ and he looked like the perfect Brad. He had a cool name too – Connor Roach! So I filled out my form quickly and handed it in to the casting assistant. A couple minutes later I’m told I’m next and I will go in with Mr. Roach. This is where my heartbeat rises sharply and fast. Some deep breathing and a quick perusal over the script and we are called into the audition room.

Inside the casting director and videographer sit behind the desk getting ready for us. We slate for the camera stating our names and then giving them our profiles.

“Okay, we’ll do two takes. First one silent and then the second one ad-lib, okay.”

Mr. Roach and myself walk up to the two chairs and hop in like it’s a car. I put on my seat belt while he starts the engine and we are off driving through the hills of some undisclosed European locale, looking fabulously cool of course. Until the car automatically slows down around a corner, this is my cue to raise my eyebrow and give him the WTF? look and I delivered! Our second take is even better as we get to ad-lib and take the scene a bit longer. We get some good hearty laughs from the casting director and that was it. Less than five minutes of acting and we are done. It felt good and its over. Back into the main room where I give a collective “Goodbyes Jacques’, Goodbye Brads.” I decide to walk home in my nice suit dreaming of a $15,000 paycheque.

Oh ya, I forgot to mention, after the agent called for me yesterday she called back an hour later, this time to book my son for an audition the same day! Lights, camera, action!

Burst of Word vs. Back In The Summer of '99

Burst of Word

Dreamlike tendencies taking over me, watching the cascading words pile up and start to suffocate. Reach for the old fashioned and faithful pen to capture or crash this flow. So you need this to be easily repeated just an endless mirror we keep feeding, the written word and its’ merit. From scriptures to Shakespeare, from television to twitter and everything in the middle, storytelling never stops. Sharing never stops because communicating is endless. Nature is always communicating; silently telling the bees the flowers are ready or screaming loudly with tidal waves telling us all, the infinite circle of life and death. These deep breaths of Pacific Ocean cool align my spine and open my eyes with a smile. I can see the shadow storms brewing in the distance just as I can feel the warm winds with the change in tide. But there is nothing like the sunburst soak on a sunny drenched afternoon to let loose the noose around the words you dare not say. Words that only play in your head while others fall to this page.



Back In The Summer of ‘99

Any attempt to cloak the truth, could never work, and could never prove. So the charade signals the game to finally begin. While the afternoons can help blossom the cherry delights, the secrets are revealed by moonlight. The days brink on torturous as the sun and clouds rule and anticipation sits idle in the wings. The mind contributes an ounce more of punishment for your pain. Your cranial projector plays back a lifetime of favorite scenes, reminding yourself to keep loving and living. Meanwhile the banality of the reality projector can freeze you in your time warp leaving you clawing for air and a return to this page. You scream for vengeance to bring back the moments we lost ourselves in, where time was all the seasons rolled into one. Each embrace electrifies dormant embers surrounding the heart. Now is the time to stoke the fire and let those flames grow higher and higher. Gather around and let the heat stroke your skin and lets burn new memories into our minds and hearts. Fire keeper keep it lit through days and nights and let the new air breathe in new life, like we were back in the Summer of ’99.

When She Dances With The Sun

casablanca nights have passed with the southern winds
the new air breathes with a flamenco jump in her step
shuddering deep in the sadness, a tear of joy surfaces to the top
a song is chirping above with the fist of god drumming the beat
it is alive and so blessed as it soars and thrives
each note strikes its chord as our shadows pass in the corridor we unite in the hall with dancing feet
maestro raises his arms
we embrace, we meet, we feel
now we dance
maestro takes us away
where the sun kissed you first with each sunrise and the ocean held you endlessly
take me rushing through our youth then bring me back at once
let this heart flourish in your garden of love and wisdom
clear my intentions to bring about peace
bless these fingers to move you with melody and rhythm
canta, canta
guitarra, guitarra
I’ll trip away with you

I’ve started writing again and it all started with a sun soaked poem. Today it started again with a twitch (twitcher coming soon). No I don’t twit, tweet or dig, nor did I stumbleupon anything delicious on my way through facebook but I promise to stay linked in. Midnight, can’t sleep, won’t sleep. Mstrkrft pumping in my headphones. Fireplace keeps me warm, my loves asleep. Time to write.

Okay so now I have joined Twitter but still unsure of its merit and wonder if our consumerism tendencies are getting the best of the web. How many more social networks will we all abandon for the next one? Does anything have staying power anymore? I’m using Twitter to spread my writing, Chico Sousa, see how that goes. All this writing is causing old writing memories to pop in to my head, like writing on the porch on Foxbar in Toronto until my fingers were cold and numb at four in the morning. Tonight on this porch in Vancouver the night feels as though it is getting warmer. Our garden has been planted with strawberries, tomatoes, herbs and more. The sounds of Friday night are in the air. The music on the streets is louder, the laughter heartier, there is a common release, relief, in the air.

Now it seems that all I do when I get a free moment is pick up this pen and let it rip. When I was younger this is where I would go to get everything off my chest. Empty my head so I can fill up my heart again. Today the sun has vanished for the day now leaving us breaking up clouds around the moon with our minds. The wind passes by my well-traveled sandals and through my toes. Once again simply thankful for this moment to reflect and write. I’m thankful not to be running for my life, fleeing from my country, killing to eat or selling myself to survive. Apparently there is a swine flu epidemic in the works and from our research, it was done on purpose by the same company that will offer the vaccine, Baxter. Some people think this is the end, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse riding to the final sunset.

What a nice long day. The days of Ben waking up early and then crawling into bed with us for forty more winks are gone. Up just after six a.m. this morning there was no falling back to sleep, just a lot of jumping, diving and running on the spot. So Ben and I got up and started the morning. After a great big breakfast of eggs, ham (swine flu but go ahead and have some bacon they say), hash browns and toast we are now soaking up the sun once again.

Once playtime had been established I found some new music and checked out what’s happening on my web pages – Facebook, Twitter, Blogger and phreeagent.com. I received some great responses to my latest Observation and had fifteen new people join the ChicoDaily group on Facebook. So as mentioned, I joined Twitter as Chico Sousa – the unknown poet of love and labour. I’ll be using Twitter to stay connected with liked minded folk and to spread my words in hopes that someone who knows someone who knows someone else falls in love with these oral paintings.

Meanwhile the focus at home is the future plans. Where to live, what else do we need, emergency preparedness, all the stuff most don’t want to talk about but we do daily. I have mixed feelings about the current state of the world. Things I’ve been talking and writing about for a while, about the corrupt powers that exist within corporations, governments and worldwide governing organizations. This whole swine flu is taken right out of their game book and we are the visiting team without a quarterback. All I can do is create the best world around my family, friends and community and let those vibrations ripple across the water. Once again very thankful.

Waking The Giant Within

Today’s observation is coming to you live from the House of Love in Vancouver. Not the 16th or 19th floor of the ivory tower or the sunny side of Granville Island, nor the shady lanes of Gastown. This time I am just off the Broadway lights and nestled in with the glow of the avenue.

It has been exactly three months since I was laid off at Ace Film. It has also been over three months since I’ve written anything. The responsibility of the situation has slowly rendered myself creatively dead. Regardless of the media’s gloom and doom outlook I remain optimistic and positive…most days. For sure this great attitude attracted a fantastic opportunity straight out of the gate for a Client Services Manager position with an up and coming media company. After weeding down the applicants from a 100, I made the top 20 then the top 4, but it was all too quick to be true. Not a single other interview anywhere since then. With each new career posting comes another list of freshly unemployed faces. Yet, there are many who are still making money. Some significantly less and some how others still making even more. “It’s a new economy now,” my good friend tells me, “the days of giving out jobs is gone, now you must create it.” The freelancer now rules, so I continue to dream.

Surrounded by the self-employment bug since I was a child, the light of independence stays lit within me. I still scour the listings, research the companies hiring and proceed to convince them of my value through a cover letter. Administrative roles, management, production, writing, and project management – my diversity while it is the soul’s blessing it is but a curse in this circle and square peg search. The sound of a binner pushing his treasure trove full shopping cart down the avenue reminds me how close we all are to that reality. The bottles and cans we would always leave for them in the past we now collect and return for milk money. Even the brothel downstairs from us seems oddly quite lately. No late night horny drunk drive by’s, no cock chatter over cigarettes at night.

More than any other time, these past few months have been like surfing big waves. A recurring swell continues to pass through this space and I continue to ride each wave through it instead of attempting to swim against it. Sometimes the road less traveled is simply taken by not veering from the road you are already on. Time is not left to continue to second-guess it all.

The last 48 hours has turned this writers dry spell into a deep well. A voice that spoke so loudly when employed had lain dormant for months. A new voice rose to the forefront one whose time was truly ready, the voice of fatherhood. When Ben was born almost two years ago, I was back to work the very next day producing a television commercial. Those first few days and weeks I admit were uncomfortable. It felt as though I gave birth and then the child was taken away from me. With time those feelings dissipated and the joy grew each day as I was greeted at home with open arms. But as the months passed and the first year did as well, I realized how much I was still missing. That whole 9-5 time was gone and I felt like the divorced parent with custody on weekends. The joy of my work held these facts and feelings at bay. One day I would be securing a deposit for a new project or running in front of the camera for a new spot, the next day I would be recording music for it as well. I was finally in my element, in a place that could accommodate my skills and passions. But each night upon my return home my skills and passion for fatherhood and husbandry would take over. Communication was so evident early on with his sign language, confirming his understanding of things. We continue to strive to be the key educators in his early life. The last three months has been a blessing for this as I feel we have really connected and grown together. Who wants to be away from this?

So with this integral bonding phase in full gear and the return of the observer’s pen, I can only feel the presence of something new on the horizon, a reawakening of sleeping trees to breathe new life into this grand love story.

Power of Intention

My fellow writer in the great lay off of 2009 emailed me today and she mentioned Dr. Wayne Dyer and the power of intention, a power that I know so well. A power that I know is currently not working at maximum capacity. A simple definition for intention is: “to have in mind a purpose or plan, to direct the mind, to aim.” Without that intention we simply stumble around without any real direction or meaning.

Today ends the second week of unemployment. We continue to stay positive scouring through every website with job listings as we read the latest headlines about record-breaking unemployment levels everywhere. This morning the stories continue south of the border with “Tough choices for America’s hungry” and here at home “McGuinty warns of multi-year deficits for Ontario.” Somehow we manage to laugh it off and continue to move forward, one more call, one more resume, one more website. Networking. We are great communicators and intelligent hard workers, we will attract something soon…er or later. Which brings me to the power of intention.



I recall moments with intentions so straightforward, highly visual and believable, that they of course came to light. From meeting my soul mate to starting my own business, having that unwavering intention has lead me to great experiences. While attending university, I knew without a doubt that I was destined to work for a record company. I remember it all so vividly because one way or another, I was helping create it all.

I started out with the only independent record company in London, Auto Records, owned at the time by composer Peter Brennan. The first band I brought back to the label was called Grandeur of Ghosts, lead by the very talented Shawn Creamer. Those were amazing times where I started to listen to even more and more music than I could get my hands on to. This was when I really got hooked on music, now I was directly connected to those who were being inspired to write and perform. I had found my true place. It felt right. Grandeur of Ghosts, Buckshot Enema, Finnegan’s Treehouse, Elevator Bugs, these were just a few of the local bands inspiring me to continue after the dream.

This is where pure intention comes into the picture. I had already spent much of my youth imagining myself working at a major record label. I imagined talking to dj’s about certain albums that they just had to play. I imagined myself night after night out in downtown Toronto walking past long line-ups and heading into to see the hottest new bands. I imagined all my job interviews happening with Warner, A&M, Motown and then having to sit back and choose which company to join. (ha! There was never a bidding war for my services!) Resume after resume went out the door to everyone in the industry. Eventually they would all hear about me and someone would see the potential. That day did eventually happen and the rest is history.

Today I find myself in a different position. Now that pure intention, that vision, is not as clear and naïve as it was fifteen years ago. Now it is simply a vision to take care of my family and get a pay cheque rolling in again. That is the immediate and my mind has yet to imagine something grander. How can it, in these uncertain times? It is almost like I can’t waste time dreaming right now and I just need to take care of business. If you know me at all you understand the challenge but you also know I shall always overcome. I have not given up on the power of intention. I’m intent on becoming employed and from there, eventually rediscovering the road less traveled.

In the Toronto Star the other day was a great article about The Dakota Tavern. Shawn Creamer is now the co-owner of the club and is also in the band The Beauties who play every Sunday. Way to go!! Reading about the Dakota brought back all these memories of that career searching time after graduation. Of course things are very much different today as we sort out this new direction amidst the paradigm shift, a shift I welcome with open arms.

http://www.thestar.com/Entertainment/article/580263

Substance of time

January 5, 2009 Monday

A few days into the New Year and my first moment to just sit and write, take it all in. After a brief discussion in the kitchen we both agreed to take Ben’s current nap time and just write. Solace within. Sometimes these are great moments to assist the creative flow. The many wells of inspiration found all around us like family, to share in the love and help create. I remember my brother mentioning it one night after….

It all started on December 20th as our plane set to depart to Toronto; we sat patiently on the tarmac for three hours, eventually lifting off with the last passengers to fly out of Vancouver airport that day before it shut down due to the weather. We then missed our connector flight in Toronto then finding another flight and finally landing in London with no luggage. Despite the weather and the outdated airline customer service, we arrived alive in 2009.

As I stop to think for a bit, I know he’ll be up sooner with each passing moment as I laugh while writing at a feverish pace. The family Christmas caravan this year was a momentous one full of love, loss, laughter, tears and joy. We watched them all play and we played along with them all. We remembered and rejoiced, forgave and wept. We engaged with the youngest at three months, Eli, with a wonderful adventure to Toronto Island with the Cartys, then with the eldest Armando & Bemvida Sousa at ninety plus years of life. We had the blessings to spend time with so many in a quick twelve days. Over fifty people that you love but only so much time to spend with them all and still not see everyone. The joy was within the company but for the most part most visits only scratched the surface of engagement and one can only draw upon childhood memories from the luxury of our past to make up the rest. Memories where families visited sometimes for four to five hours, a day full of running, games, time wasters, naps, great meals, cards, time outs, misbehaving and shoes across your ass.

The substance of time. Although there is a deep loving connection with each family visit, the time is far too brief to allow all that one may yearn to share and discuss. My greatest moments were simply as a joyful observer watching my son engage in play with all of his relatives. Chasing back and forth with Vanessa, playing basketball with Philip, rocking out to guitar hero with Jordan, premium hanging out time with Lydia and going up and down, up and down the staircases. He mastered ping-pong by placing the ball at the edge of the table and then smashing it with his paddle as if he was playing tee ball. He petted big dogs and fed them treats, he shied away from dogs his size, and he intimidated and taunted the smallest as he puffed out his chest with a smile. And everywhere there was choo-choo, choo-choo. Everywhere. Thanks Uncle Rick!



So many unique and wonderful memories this year and unfortunately far too many missed still. Today is the last day of hearing choo-choo, choo-choo all the time except for the couple hours I will see him as I return back from work each night. This is where my fingers stop for many minutes. Waiting to write the next words, the next thoughts. What will the next year bring? How can I spend more time with my son and my love? Is this the year to the valley? To the hills? Write that bestseller, grow our own food and watch him grow like a tree in the woods.

January 6, 2009 Tuesday

It’s my first day back to work and things are quiet. The snow covered city is now a veil of mist and rain as the snow begins to retreat down the streets and into the rivers. The phones are silent and even the emails bare no life today. Still, when I was called into his office at 4:30 this afternoon it still felt unexpected. Yes, today I have joined the thousands who have been laid off as a result of the sweeping decline in our economy. Happy New Year!



It looks like Ace Film just made it to its 20th anniversary and will eventually close down on that note. I am full of mixed emotions that for the most part, have left me feeling numb and saddened. Those feelings will subside and will move towards an excited and inspired motivation to find a new opportunity to be of service, grow and provide for my family. The continuing efforts to stay in touch with so many people I can only hope will now help me on this journey. Ace has been good to us and I am thankful for the opportunities that were made available over the years. It is now time to create that picture of what we really want in our thoughts and bring that powerful vision to life.

The Final Weeks

(best read while accompanied by A Taste For Faith, the new mix by thePAsystem)

Sunday

I don’t want to think. I just want to write. Despite a Vancouver weekend full of rain we all managed to have a fun and busy weekend. I had some great time with Ben as well as a fabulous evening watching him play with his best friend Liam, who is only five days older. Robert Doisneau moments like The Kiss at the bus top with my love. Still, I realize I have a hard time not thinking and editing while writing and still underneath it all, compelled to deliver something raw and from the hip. Something lacking all theory and…I digress, and realize once again, I am somehow apologizing for trying to call myself a writer. And for that matter, calling myself anything at all unless someone else has accredited myself as so.


Meanwhile, my hands lay to rest naturally spread atop the keyboard, breathing, patiently waiting the next stream of consciousness to be painted upon this white canvas. They seem to take much longer than usual, full of unrepentant dialectic energy that has an unforgiving edit rate.

Finally, I succumb to dis-visualiation of the keyboard and full out…ok, let’s try it…astral projection diatribe.

Outside it still rains and inside the angels sleep while I play with words. An attempt to release and connect, share and help, help each other find and enjoy their own silence.

11:11 p.m.

Or

12:11, 12:12 p.m.

Outside the lines, splashing outside the tub. Jumping higher and swimming deeper. Dreams and ambitions, why are you doing anything? Calling, a sign or a force. What you believe and give energy to and somehow others may also give energy towards.

Friday

Two more days left to fill the week, and what a week it was. On Tuesday Barack Obama was elected the 44th President of America, not the United States of America, as they haven’t been united for many years. No, it’s the new America that you’ll hear more mention of in the coming weeks. The new old you may say. Who bloody knows and who really cares anymore. So enough of that, I’m not sure how much I want to write or discuss politics out here in the cyber-trap that I so enjoy anyway.


No, tonight it may just be about music this time around. Sitting down with a fresh Brooklyn Lager and starting off with some tracks featured on the winniecooper website that Sammy put me on to. Sammy was one of the first people I could talk about music all day long with when I first moved out to the west coast. He’s definitely part of the Track Pack, a small group of music junkies that I love sharing all kinds of music with. The Shea Bros, Jas, Carty, Pablo, Potvin and many others who I haven’t been in touch with for awhile. Ah, for the love of music.

Next Friday

The creative stroke has found its way through the November rain as we come closer to bidding adieu to 2008. Although it is the creative flow that truly inspires me it is not what pays the bills.

I produce commercials and I don’t even have cable, in fact, our offices don’t even have cable either. By day I am a television commercial producer helping clients get their vision for their products or services on the old fashioned and out dated television tube. I never set out to get into this business but the company and the position allows me to facilitate my creative side and for that I’m thankful. I don’t watch any television program regularly and when I’m in the mood for a fix I’ll download an episode of Survivorman, Entourage or Boston Legal but for the most part I watch more films and documentaries.

As I pick this piece of paper up again and continue writing I realize this will probably be the last entry for 2008. It has already been over a week in writing and time is passing by quickly as we enter December. The music of The Last Shadow Puppets plays to a room of two at the moment. The song Black Plant gathers speed half way through after leading you on this secret agent vibe – what a track. So, I’ll include here my favourite albums and most played tracks too. Thinking ahead, I should just publish this the same time I finish my last music mix too. Perfect. So I’m back where I started listening and writing about music. Pfft.

Monday

I really have no idea where this observation is going. Right now it seems to be a hodgepodge of thoughts over the last couple of weeks. What stands out for me in these last months of 2008? Hmmm….that is a loaded question and how much of the answer do I really want to reveal here? How much do I want to share with you? Isn’t that what writing is – sharing the written word whether it be fictional or based loosely on reality? I know that even today the written word is up for debate as conventional and established writers scoff at the minions hording on to the internet and logging themselves in as the latest blogging sensations.

I guess that has been my personal dilemma since having a child. My thoughts and observations in some respect seem almost a moot point in relation to the parenting of my child. These are such uncertain times and this heavy heart weighs in on this Monday like every Monday, what are we doing here? Why are we working away like slaves in a world system that is not fair and simply not working for everyone. A general strike is too far fetched I suspect. I guess this is the part of me that connects and relates to all my brothers and sisters worldwide that are without clean water, food and a safe home. I relate not because I fear it but because I see it already happening here in my own native land. So one part of me plans away the future with complete awareness of what is going on while the other half of me holds on to the optimism and positivism that brought me this far.

Thursday


First there was the Coalition of the Willing now in Canada there is simply the Coalition. The three headed, no two headed – three way speaking Coalition of the Leaderless. While many of us were excited at the possibility of overthrowing the ultra conservative and secretive Tory party out of power, the front page of today’s paper reveals a different story. “Truly scared” Canadians blame all parties but would give Tories a majority – in the event of an election. Seriously? I guess our politics have finally reached the same ridiculous level as that of our southern cousins. I’m starting to really question whom this majority of Canadians really are and what do they care about. If there is another bloody election I have the perfect campaign song and platform for the ball-less Tory party – “My Mistakes Were Made For You,” by the Last of The Shadow Puppets.

Friday after next Friday

We are all connected. Last night I watched a documentary called Everything’s Cool about the global warming debate. It concentrated on how the great chasm was created between the thousands of scientist reports about global warming and the critics fighting against it, most of them hired by the oil companies. I no longer felt lonely after listening to Ross Gelbspan, a Pulitzer Prize winning writer and journalist, who was one of the first to begin writing about the problem. But after nearly twenty years Ross was quitting the fight. He had been published everywhere for years and while he saw the issue go from a number one priority to a discredited priority and back again he was still losing hope. By the end of the film he does come around and begins to share his evidence with high school students and is again invigorated with the dream. I felt his urgency and his sadness.

From the uncertainty of the invisible hand ruling this world to the regular bouts of artist regression via the lonely creative road, I too have fought with the lack of hope. I have hope in the citizenry as I witness the personal change in so many of us over the last ten years and the relentless and life altering love and guidance our son receives from his amazing mother in these unforgiving times. Creatively I am filled with hope again and a rejuvenated flow as I am inspired by my peers like the writings of Sara Bynoe, the musical excursions of Teflon Buddha and the imagery of Steve Carty. It is a struggle but one that I am coming closer to fully accepting and embracing so that it will continue to fuel my passion for life.

I am very thankful for this past year. I am thankful for my health in this cancerous world. I am thankful for my city of Vancouver and our home in a world where millions are homeless. I am thankful for the friends and family who do visit or call instead of considering a poke on Facebook as friendship. I am thankful for my parents who lead with love and who brought me into existence instead of being locked with fear. I am thankful for the love of my life and the child our love created. I am thankful for mother nature who continues to give us life despite our attempts to kill her. I am thankful to be alive today. I am thankful to be in a state of thankfulness. I thank you for taking the time to read Chico’s Observations. Lead with love. Peace.



Most Played Albums in 2008

1. Flying Lotus - Los Angeles
2. David Holmes - Holy Pictures
3. The Fratellis - Here We Stand
4. Islands - Arm’s Way
5. The Kooks - Konk
6. Portugal The Man - Censored Colors
7. Cut Copy - In Ghost Colours
8. Vampires Weekend - Vampires Weekend
9. Of Montreal - Skeletal Lamping
10. Atmosphere - When Life Gives You Lemons You Paint That Shit Gold
11. David Arnold - James Bond:Quantum of Solace Soundtrack
12. Scott Weiland - Happy in Galoshes
13. Rodrigo Y Gabriela - Rodrigo Y Gabriela
14. Cold War Kids - Loyalty to Loyalty
15. The Last Shadow Puppets - The Age of Understatement
16. John Legend - Evolver
17. Grand Analog - Calligraffiti
18. The Raveonettes - Lust Lust Lust
19. The Black Keys - Attack and Release
20. Shad - The Old Prince

Most Played Tracks in 2008

1. Rays - La Mode
2. Shake It - Metro Station
3. Shiller - Ratatat
4. Always Where I need to be - The Kooks
5. Time To Pretend - MGMT
6. Stairway to Heaven - Rodrigo Y Gabriela
7. Till I Walk Alone - Grand Analog
8. Poker Face - Lady Gaga
9. Beach in Hawaii - Ziggy Marley
10. Troublemaker- Weezer