November’s just around the corner, and you know what that means: renewal!

After all, the word “novem” means new. Or nine, but that doesn’t make much sense so Newvember it is! I realize that it’s not exactly the month of visible renewal. It’s a month in which the last of the leaves reluctantly leave their perch in the branches to join their departed brethren below. It’s a time of year when I switch to the “Sentimental” category of my MP3 collection and consider taking up drinking hard liquor to match the ambiance. Yeah, it’s solo-sax-on-the-street time.

That leads me to the first change for which my friend Casie Stewart is responsible. She’s managed to land herself a gig with the social media people at MuchMusic/MTV/CTV.

So congratulations, Casie!

According to the words I put in her mouth, I will never have to stand outside another CTV-run event like a common schmuck. Imagine, backstage passes to the MMVAs! No more standing around naked in the bushes outside of parties anymore.

And that leads me to the second change around here; I’ve decided to try writing in the morning rather than at night. I’m hoping this will give the posts a bit more clarity, less of that slobbering grunting quality. Also, I was recently invited to participate in a Whisky tasting by a local ad firm, and that’s happening tonight. Even if I manage to soberly comport myself (I don’t see those chances being high), I’ll still be getting home too late to think of anything interesting to say about it. And being able to pull strings with Ms. Stewart will probably mean more evening events like this.

We’ll see how it goes. This is my first morning post and I haven’t passed out yet, so we’re in strange new territory. This might yet work out, but as I’m getting light-headed, I won’t push too hard. How do people get up in the mornings?!

Ah, fall. A time when a young man’s fancy turns to thoughts of replacing that moth-eaten coat and maybe, finally getting that haircut. But there are so many options downtown that it’s hard to make a decision. So I thought I’d do a bit of window shopping down trendy, chic Queen West.

It didn’t pan out.

First off, I wouldn’t know fashion if it ran up to me, tugged at my sleeve, and called me dad. So most of the clothing stores and their slight, jaded attendants with aborted personalities, were out of the question. And any haircut I would plunk down three digits for (as if!), would be experimental. I don’t wear experimental well. I have a utilitarian, European head. It’s made for thinking, imbibing spirits, and spectacular love-making. Not for unusual hair styles.

But that’s okay. If I can’t spend my money on anything else, I can always buy a new MIDI controller of some kind that I’ll use, like, three times and then forget about.

I used to flip through the comics at Silver Snail regularly as a teen, but they don’t carry much of what I enjoy anymore. I keep tellin’ em there’s a market for it. They keep tellin’ me that what I want is “illegal” and “sick” and that they “never carried it” and “please stop masturbating”.  Hey, their loss.

I’ll happily take my business elsewhere.

I enjoy a genital piercing as much as the next guy, but I was pretty intent on getting that haircut. That’s the problem with Queen West though, isn’t it? There’s always something to distract you. If it’s not a novelty condom store or the exciting fall 2009 line of designer bongs and smoking accessories,  it’s street voodoo:

So, naturally, by the time I got to the old Citytv building, the first thing and the other thing (there were two, right?), had broken free of my skull and fled. Something about a hat and a vest?

Oh well, there’s always tomorrow. Wish I could say the same for  poor Moses Znaimer.

Oh yeah, now I remember. Yeah. No way I’m getting a haircut now.