"But there was nothing about the little, low-rambling, more or less identical homes of Northumberland Estates to interest or to haunt, no chance of loot that would be any more than the ordinary, waking-world kind the cops hauled you in for taking; no small immunities, no possibilities for hidden life or otherworldly presence; no trees, secret routes, shortcuts, culverts, thickets that could be made hollow in the middle – everything in the place was right out in the open, everything could be seen at a glance; and behind it, under it, around the corners of its houses and down the safe, gentle curves of its streets, you came back, you kept coming back, to nothing; nothing but the cheerless earth."
Thomas Pynchon, "The Secret Integration"

This is Ian Mathers' Tumblr. I live in Canada. I've written about music and other things for Stylus, Dusted, PopMatters, Resident Advisor, the Village Voice, and a few other places. Hi.




Christians call The Bible “the greatest story ever told” almost as if they’ve never heard John Mulaney’s Salt and Pepper Diner

Scott Walker — “The Plague”

Woke up with this, the source of some of the most incongruous “oooh, yeah!”s in the history of pop music, in my head this morning.

You may think it’s unfair that we have to counteract and adjust ourselves for the ill behavior of other men. You know what? You’re right. It is unfair. Is that the fault of women? Or is it the fault of the men who act abysmally and make the rest of us look bad? If issues of fairness bother you, get mad at the men who make you and your actions appear questionable.

Because when it comes to assessing a man, whatever one man is capable of, a woman must presume you are capable of. Unfortunately, that means all men must be judged by our worst example. If you think that sort of stereotyping is bullshit, how do you treat a snake you come across in the wild?

…You treat it like a snake, right? Well, that’s not stereotyping, that’s acknowledging an animal for what it’s capable of doing and the harm it can inflict. Simple rules of the jungle, man. Since you are a man, women must treat you as such.

The completely reasonable and understandable fear of men is your responsibility. You didn’t create it. But you also didn’t build the freeways either. Some of the things you inherit from society are cool and some of them are rape culture.

A Gentlemen’s Guide To Rape Culture

This whole article should be required reading for every man, complete with actual tips on what men can do to combat rape culture. 

(via theashleyclements)

Some of the things you inherit from culture are cool and some of them are rape culture.

(via khealywu)


I say this any time I post anything but I’ve become a terrible blogger. I don’t particularly feel like I’ve got nothing to say but I sort of have forgotten about this as an outlet. I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like I’ve bottled things up inside or anything like that, I just always seem to be doing something else instead of blogging these days: working, spending time with Ian every day (a thing that has not gotten any less shiny and new and exciting, I am trying to remember exactly what it was like to not be together and being grateful to be able to wake up next this guy who is always claiming I’m a bed hog and who makes me dinner and who brings home cold medicine and Crazy Bread because he is wonderful), exploring Toronto, hanging out with people I like, meeting new people, talking to the people I love most who are far away, reading, shopping, well, you get it. In this case I wasn’t blogging because I was apple picking for the first time ever. Turns out it was Ian’s first time too. We went with our friends Julia and Lauren.

  • It was a really chilly brisk kind of day yesterday and it was perfect to go apple picking. I sort of thought this on my own but then natives also confirmed so I mean, yeah. The farm we went to was in southern Ontario escarpment country and the leaves were just astoundingly gorgeous yesterday. If you follow my instagram, you know that fall leaves are my party drug of choice.
  • Yesterday was a day to pick Fuji, Mutsu, Russet, and these lovelies pictured here, Ambrosia.
  • We also visited the baby animals and saw the softest little guys. Ian petted a sheep and was so funny and adorable, saying something like, “I know it in my head but then I touch it and am like, ‘you’re wearing clothes!’” Because wool.
  • Julia, Lauren, and Ian make for good subjects but really, I’m just trying to get the leaves. I. Have. A. Problem.
  • Ian looks almost angry at the apple here. Our friend Jess says it seems like the apple has sassed him and I couldn’t agree more.
  • My mom said to be sure to have Ian take a photo of me apple picking since I had never been before. This is also a perfect representation of my fall uniform albeit a pretty colourful day for me: flannel, poncho, toque. Note: I am also high on dressing for fall mostly because I truly believe no one has ever been as meant to wear fall and winter clothing as I am.
  • This is a Russet apple which are great for baking I was told and which I proved today by you know, baking them.
  • Here is a very typical Anaïs kind of photo because I care about two things a lot: fall leaves and shoes (Blundstones to be exact)
  • We don’t have a ton of room at our place so Ian forbade me from getting and carving a full size pumpkin so I got one of these little guys for us as we await the great pumpkin.
  • After all that apple picking and animal petting and cider sipping, we worked up an appetite and went to Baker Street Station because of course we went to Baker Street Station for lunch. I had the turkey meatloaf with potato & swede mash, fried brussels, roasted cauliflower, sage chips, and red wine jus. And we all know I’m not exactly the person to throw meat under the bus but despite how delicious the meatloaf was (and it was, tasted like childhood) the vegetables were to die for. I would eat three plates’ worth of those vegetables. 

My first fall: I am loving it. I do have a feeling it is going to be much like a party drug (as I referred to earlier) in that I’m going to feel euphoric and powerful and unstoppable and then winter will be the crash the next morning where I am pretty sure I am going to die and no one will ever find my body and just darkness. Next time on ˆAnaïs Goes North.

This was such a great day. (I’m squinting, not angry, though.) At Baker Street Station I had the new pork belly sandwich, which comes with some quince marmalade. I watch enough food tv that I’ve heard people talk about this dish or that dish taking them back to something they ate as a kid despite not actually being the same dish. This was the first time I’d ever actually experienced that feeling, and it turns out it feels really good. The sandwich didn’t really taste like pork chops and apple sauce (it tasted wayyyyy better), but it still made me think of eating that as a kid.