I want The Flip!

Call it a brownie induced decision or just plain trying to raise one's self happiness through a purchase, but I really really really want The Flip Mino HD. :)

The Flip has been a product on my radar for the longest freaking time, but it's never been available in Canada until recently. I even once bought one from the US through ebay, but it didn't get through the border and I just gave up hope.

I finally discover today that they've got their own Canadian site at ca.theflip.com. Odd that it's more expensive on their site than Future Shop or Best Buy, but I guess that's how they roll.

I was gonna just do Future Shop, when I saw that they have a 'do good' section. In particular a 'do good' section for Kiva.

Kiva is one of my favourite organizations out there (until I'm proven otherwise) that's involved with micro lending. Instead of just donating your $, you invest in other ppl. Sure, there's the chance of not making your money back, but I can say that I've been with it for 18 months and never lost a penny. I've invested probably $100 in the site and been able to re-use that four times over. I'm on my 17th loan (of $25) and have utilized returned money to give gift certificates to others too.

So yah, The Flip will charge me 279.99, while it's 264.99 at Future Shop. But if I choose this awesome green coloured Kiva inspired The Flip, they will donate $10 to Kiva. Which is awesome. Plus, I get to advertise Kiva whenever I bust out The Flip.

I'm gonna wait until the morning, but I think this product looks amazing.

What are your thoughts? Have you used one before? Do you think one could make fun mini movies with it?

CANNES DREAMS

Friday, July 24, 2009

CANNES DREAMS

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2009 by Philip Cairns

The actor is dying a slow, sombre death.

Is it time to retire when joy is no longer there?

I still long to stroll along La Croisette at Cannes, again,

But, this time, to walk the red carpet in my finery.

Diamond studs in my ears.

A huge wad of money in my pocket.

The paparazzi foaming at the mouth.

Winning Best Actor at the awards ceremony on the closing night.

Smoking a joint with Jack Nicholson on his rented yacht in the harbour.

Drinking champagne with Meryl Streep in her suite at the Carlton Hotel.

Where is the kind, sexy lover I thought I would find?

The house by the sea with acres of rolling hills

And a swimming pool in the backyard?

I was really only looking for mass love

To make up for all the childhood jeers.

Life turned out so different than I planned.

Foolish, unrealistic dreams replaced by living nightmares

And boring jobs.

People can be so difficult to get along with

Or am I to blame?

No need for you to shed tears for me.

I’d hate to come back as a child soldier

Or a maimed, starving baby in Darfur.

In India, parents cut off their children’s fingers

And gouge out their eyes.

It brings in more money from begging.

Forever trolling for sex in strange places.

Unlit forests and bathhouse corridors.

My gut getting bigger as each year passes.

Sinking into a snake pit of shrieking cannibals and rude retorts.

Let the oxygenated blood flow.

This planet is full of beauty and horror,

In equal measure.

The Scales of Justice tip over and come crashing to the ground.

There are no survivors.

I want to climb into an alternate reality

Where everything is bright and perfect

And soiled events don’t crush my ugly enthusiasm.

I miss the fireworks at Cannes,

Our car parked so far away from the Palais.

Watching classic foreign films,

With no subtitles, on the beach,

Sitting jetlagged in a deck-chair in the sand,

With stars in my eyes and unbridled hope twisting around in my full belly.

The butterfly is emerging from the cocoon.

No one has shown him how to fly.

I wish I could relive the Buddhist doctrine.

These frustrated desires are killing me.

Steam rises from my body after every sexual encounter

But only in my dreams.

All I want is to live life to the fullest

With every moment wrapped in mauve velvet paper.

Imaginary rubies dripping from my delicate fingers.

Wagner to greet me, in person, at the gates of Heaven.

(Though, of course, they don’t really exist.)

Salvador Dali to paint a birthday card for me

With Liza Minnelli jumping out of the cake.

I bought all those silly lies in movie magazines

And on the boob tube.

The Mediterranean air made me feel invigorated and whole.

Who knows what the future holds?

Forget the blackness from the past.

There is so much to be thankful for.

Every breath can’t be orgasmic, unfortunately.

I tend to get obsessive...

I tend to get a bit obsessive over some things and it's like silly random things.

1) Online profiles. I can only do them for a week or two and then it's too much. Why? Cuz I obsessively refresh the inbox page to see who has sent me a msg. Cuz you never know who might send you something. But then I wait awhile to respond, so it doesn't appear that I'm obsessively clicking. ;)

2) I just posted my first facebook event and have already found myself checking to see who's coming, who's a maybe, and who's not much too often. It's a month away...this is gonna be a daily routine.

3) I've just added a new one. It's called Omegle. You go to the site and pairs you up with a stranger to start a conversation. It's like when you're on the bus and someone just starts talking to you and you continue the convo and then it abruptly ends. The person you're talking to is called a 'stranger' and you are called 'you.' Here's a few of my conversations so far...

Stranger: So let's have sex
You: lol...what?
Stranger: Don't you want have sex?
You: why do you assume I want sex
Stranger: Don't we all
You: disconnected

Stranger: I no want ppl from Taiwan
You: okay....
Stranger: where a u from?
You: canada
Stranger: disconnected

Now I'm on a mission to have a meaningful conversation on this random application.

What are you obsessing with this week?

LOST AND FOUND

Thursday, July 16/Friday, July 24, 2009

LOST AND FOUND

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2009 by Philip Cairns

I found out the hard way

That endings can be amorphous,

Or sad or angry.

Sometimes confusing.

The phone just stops ringing

Though his scent lingers in the mind.

Marilyn’s demise still shines in the Collective Unconscious.

We are all doomed and lost,

Though we’re rarely aware of this fact.

Love puffs us up.

The trap door opens as we swing on the gallows.

Music eases the pain.

There is nothing we can do but live

Until Death comes to visit.

The house of cards collapses but no one seems to care.

Memories can change and taint the past,

Like fire burning a genius’s manuscript.

Sal Mineo died for your sins.

I never got a chance to kiss him

For we simply never met.

We all have bitter regrets.

Lost dreams.

Jewellery cases full of emeralds and silver.

Saved love notes wrapped in pink ribbon.

Gasping fantasies of wild, luscious sex.

A hazy sunrise through the kitchen window.

The night creeps up on you and steals your soul.

Aaron Copland’s “Quiet City” kisses my eardrums.

A shard of green glass penetrates my bowels.

Forget about sex and romance.

It’s too tragic to think about

But so much fun to do.

The aging transvestite fell down the filthy manhole

And broke both her legs.

She left her glasses at home.

No one spoke to her at the crowded club.

Her nylons were torn and her make-up was caked-on and smeared.

Myrtle thought she resembled Elizabeth Taylor

But she looked more like the Wicked Witch of the West.

Please surround me with love.

No criticisms or angry demands.

My hair is full of dust.

Lucky spiders crawl across my walls.

I greet them with kind words and a smile.

Faded celebrities are dying almost every day.

There’s a variety show happening in the sky.

I want to drown in talent.

Not boring TV and stale pre-packaged food.

The faint voices I hear in my head are soft and soothing,

Damning and delightful.

This path has called to me for countless years.

I wish I had more answers to get me through the days.

Life is a tall, thick, ageless Oak tree standing confidently on its own.

The hunger pangs never really go away.

I’m almost tired of it all.

DON'T DROP THE BOMB

Tuesday, July 21/Thursday, July 23, 2009

DON’T DROP THE BOMB

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2009 by Philip Cairns

Into this slate-coloured pit,

I dip my dry, cracked toes.

I am morphing into someone else.

The journey is painful but awe-inspiring.

I miss the stage and the camera.

Discovering a new character.

Making new friends.

Falling into that other fascinating dimension.

I’m fearful of the words that spurt out of my right hand.

Where will this pilgrimage end?

Out of the left hand flows the true picture.

I sit beside the lake, in the dark,

Drinking in the warm summer air.

Feeling so alive.

The Beast has left me,

At least for the time being.

I get up and stretch my long legs.

The boardwalk clunks under my feet.

Nothing is ever enough.

Always wanting more and more.

No longer moaning about being alone.

Just enjoying the small, golden moments.

Each second may be my last.

Try to live a Buddha-like existence.

Breath to breath,

Moment to moment.

Smell the sounds of the ecstatic.

Taste the colours of love,

In all its silver forms.

The stones speak to me.

Amethyst opens my soul.

Kiss the silence.

Suppress the constant aching desires,

Like a beast that can never be fed enough.

Let me climb to the top of the mountain

To drink the fresh, clean air.

Help me to discover truths.

Books, movies, friends,

Intellectual nourishment.

Wet sex and hot food.

Comfort me.

Look up at the full moon.

Think and wonder.

Hide from evil.

Just concentrate on the good, kind people on the planet,

Hiding under sharp rocks and in dark, makeshift caves.

Eradicate sadness and despair.

Heal all the broken limbs.

Life should be joyous and fresh.

A blazing ochre sunset.

The Goddess wants us to be happy.

Touch me in all the right places.

Send Reiki to swab my cuts and bruises.

Jump high into the quiet music of silence.

Exhale a perfect hue.

Poisons spew out of my pours and I feel cleansed.

Now, inhale everything.

As much as you can understand.

Will there ever be enough?

When will all the sorrow end?

Sleep = Sanity!

I don't know about you, but my sleep is directly linked to my sanity. If I don't get a lot of sleep, I can barely talk, my decision making skills suck ass, and I just make a general fool of myself.

Whenever, I'm on a skank streak...it usually takes a weekend away to clear up my head, get some rest, and make me go 'Fuck Jay, stop being so tarded.' Or if I'm in a LTR and I freak out like crazy, put me to bed, let me sleep and then the world makes sense again.

The worst is assignments/tests. My head just can't focus and if I try to do anything that's gonna be coherent, I need that slumber. Especially, cuz usually I'll wake up early, still be in subsconscious mode and then I can write out some goodness. :)

I don't even need a ton of sleep, I just need the ability to know the next morning that I can get out of bed whenever I please. Ever since I moved into this condo, it's so bright that I wake up with the sun and that's no fun. Then I have to force myself to sleep again.

In conclusion, Jay likes his sleep. Don't you?

Holy forgotten music!!!

Sometimes you just come across some totally amazingly awful/awesome music that you have to share with the world.



Oh Sky...why'd you have to break up, re-form with a girl who never quite matched the talent of the little dude w/ the soul patch. This song actually does hold up and I feel a dance coming on.



Joshua Morrow, Eddie Cibrian and that other guy who wasn't in a soap opera. 2 hotties and an ugly dude..what is this 98 degrees? Either way...this song is such awful goodness.



Soul Decision. Who wasn't in love w/ the main blond guy?? Well before, he wore that really weird top in a future video. That was just wrong.



Wave. Okay now where did this group go to?? This song is actually pretty cool soft rock. We still have Nickelback and yet, these guys can't catch a break?? Tsk, tsk...

Who else have you forgotten and rediscovered lately from your Muchmusic past?