Abandonment Issues: Mile Of Memories House

The Mile Of Memories House, or MOM, as we call it, appears to have been abandoned a very long time ago, and is located just down the road from the Victoria Methodist Church. The grass was thigh high on this day in early June of 2011, and vines were swarming the house like a posse of thugs, swallowing the storage shed attached to the house whole. Several empty wine and liquor bottles were strewn about the floor of this portion of the house. Under an open sky, through the holes in the ceiling, I picked up one of those bottles, it was a 1790 Sandeman Cream Sherry. We could hear something scurrying around upstairs, which obviously made us nervous, but we slowly pushed forward. Ninja and her brother RJPN followed behind me, commenting on the nasty stench, the horrid wallpaper, and the random spare tires around the house. And of course, they pondered, what the hell is that noise upstairs?

Upstairs, the noise grew louder, and faster. Of course, it was a family of raccoons in a back bedroom, and the mother was angry and ready to protect her young. I quickly slammed the door shut so as to allow us to explore the second floor safely. We didn't really find anything up there that one would expect to find. No bed frames or dressers, or clothing. But instead we found pipes and hoses and crates and even more tires. A stack of magazines drew me in for a closer look. National Geographic Vol. 137, No. 2 was dated February 1970, and The Farm Quarterly that I picked up from the top of the of the pile was dated Autumn 1960, and priced at fifty cents. Severe water damage had ravaged portions of the second floor and mould was thick in the air.

Upon completion of the exploration, I told my comrades to head outside. I waited a minute for them to exit, and then re-opened the door, so as not to trap the raccoons in a tomb in the room. I then booked it outside and we continued on our journey, which involved more explorations, including the Havelock Horse House and The Colonel, and a blissful two-week cottage getaway.

And so with no further adieu, to the theme of Trailer Park Boys quotes, I give you the Mile Of Memories House.

the way she fucking goes


i had $119 in bottles


you lied to the guy in the chair


its too many nawmsayin's


i was getting changed


keep y'all eyes on dis yuhh yuhh


the winds of shit


the liquor makes me see things clear


What in the fuck!


Mr. Lahey, Julian's out here lifting weights with his shirt off and wants you to come have a drink with him.


you're the dumbest cop on the force


it could happen to you cause it happened to me


i ain't got no candy for you! no candy!


Here's Cyrus!


Everybody does that, all right? Carpenters, electricians, dishwashers, floor cleaners, lawyers, doctors, fuckin' politicians, CBC employees, principals, people who paint the lines on the fuckin' roads, get stoned, it'll be fun, get to work!


janking groceries


Randy can't fight with his pants on, he doesn't want to tear his precious little pants. So when the pants come off, look the fuck out!


fuck i miss jail


Happy trails my friends.

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Abandonment Issues: Duplex on Deux

For a long while now, only one half of the Duplex on Deux in Trenton, Ontario, has been accessible. We have stopped by regularly both before and after the visit captured in these images. In the winter months, even approaching the door of the unaccessible unit was difficult due to snow covering the broken staircase and exposed nails. In the summer months, thick bushes and thorns had overgrown the doorway and crumbling stairs. Still, we continue to push through and check it every single time we pass by, with no success as of yet. It is noteworthy to state that we do not break into locations. We return to spots such as this time after time, playing the waiting game, and hoping for an entry point to reveal itself. It is a lesson and exercise in patience and persistence.











These interior shots are of the eastern unit only, and were taken in early Spring of 2011. A kids goalie mask sat on the rotting wooden deck of the accessible unit, with a Toronto Raptors basketball hoop towering on an angle over the grassy driveway like the leaning tower of Pisa. How long has this sports memorabilia gone unused, we wondered aloud?

Inside, a water heater stood ominously in the doorway to the kitchen, a foreboding presence. Wallpaper fragments have fallen from high above and rest in pieces on the brown carpeted stairs, in other places, they hang from the ceiling, clinging on for dear life. Much is the same with the tiny remnants of toilet paper hanging from the empty roll on the holder beside the toilet, in the blue bathroom. The large kitchen is completely empty, but for the half open blinds on the windows, and an empty glass water jug on the floor.

Nothing else fecal matters


Shit ain't like that


Second class citizen


Something comes over you


Feeling out of place


The grass isn't always greener on the other side of the grow-op


Upstairs, pretty much everything but the master bedroom had been painted bright pink, and a pink shoelace hung from a doorknob inside one of the rooms. I peered eastward out a bedroom window and looked down onto the leaning basketball hoop. As I turned back around, I saw a NERF basketball hoop hanging from the back of the bedroom door. Game on. I pulled a folded piece of paper containing our days prospective location list with GPS co-ordinates from my back pocket and crumpled it up, then I closed the door and Ninja IX and I played a friendly game of hoops.

Sad clown bad drugs


The winds of shit


Footsteps on floorboards, please don't come in my room, please don't come in my room.


Laced


Hoop dreams


NeRF


The twists and turns


A few months later, while approaching the unaccessible unit, a pick-up truck pulled up beside us and parked. A pair of plaid jacketed men sat and stared at us silently from inside the truck. We passed the camera back and forth pretending to shoot everything from close ups of flowers to the expansive landscape, and down the long dirt road in the opposite direction. We aimed the camera at everything but the house, and didn't actually take a single photo. It became obvious that they were going to wait us out, so we left.

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Abandonment Issues: Secret House Against The World

The Secret House Against The World was named after the Buck65 album that was playing on the iphone in my pocket as we explored this old house in Bailieboro, Ontario. The children that were raised here definitely left their mark on the home. A red sack full of Disney VHS tapes sat just inside the door of the sagging foyer. Santa's undelivered goods from years past, we joked. The garage still contained several odds and ends, including a stolen Home Depot basket and a Motorcross girlie poster on the wall. Indside the house, a green upholstered reclining chair was the sole remaining piece of furniture, the king of the castle. Modern stove and wide open fridge bookended dated wooden cupboards in the kitchen, surrounded by yellow walls and a linoleum covered floor. I opened the kitchen cupboards, which were all empty. I then opened a front hall closet, only to find some pennies, AA batteries and a pair of ladies sunglasses. The kitchen closet door was slightly ajar, I pushed it open further to find a random assortment of painting, cleaning and home renovation supplies left behind on the shelves. On the inside of the closet door, a list of dates were written in ink, with numbers accompanying each date. Yellow, purple, blue, yellow, purple, blue...the coloured stairs led us up to the second floor. We stood in a bright green room with equally brightly coloured wooden planks attached to the banister. A children's playroom, we agreed. A large pipe at the top of the stairs had been painted purple and was covered in children's hand prints in blue paint. The green room was sadly void of any toys, only the hand prints remained to tell the story of the playing that once took place here. A pink and white wallpapered girl's bedroom sat adjacent to the green room, empty, but for a shelf resting on the wall, with nothing on it. Another striped wallpapered room was beyond the pink room.

As I said, we explored this home to a soundtrack provided by Mount Uniacke, Nova Scotia's own Buck65. To recreate our experience, click the link below and then come on back and check out our photos of The Secret House Against The World, to the soundtrack of The Floor, from The Secret House Against The World.

http://youtu.be/9D97SGLKcWs?t=46s

The stolen basket from THE HOME DEPOT. This is not an ad for HOME DEPOT. It is an ad for stealing HOME DEPOT baskets.


Bitches ain't shit but moms and sisters. FEMINISN'T.


Barney Rubble


My face is vacant, like most of the places you'll find me pacing.


Maybe I'm a serial killer and just don't know it yet. Maybe you're inferior filler and I'll have no regrets.


Disneyland in Santa's Sack (Ever Afters Never Last)


We eat, we hunt creep and beef on each other. We prey to a diet eh? While you preach for sobriety, I'm drunk, smoked out and I stank of the skunk. Monkeyed.


Reflection Internal


bi-polar-bear-naked-gun-registry-office-space-station-street-level-up-town-drunk-driving-miss-take-five-finger-food-fight-club-sandwich-shop


Mar 28 - 400


My closet skeletons are still too fresh, some still dressed, and may even still have flesh.


Sometimes being me is like pulling teeth, but i'm not an orthodonist, I don't have a degree. I never graduated anything, so inevitably, this is my quote, I left it open, finish however you please.


When life gives you lemons, suck them sour fuckers dry.


I stand alone on this island, this mind: an abandoned asylum. I may have designed it but I'm also a violent-assassin masked in black and strapped with the immaculate raps of a man that stands at destiny's passage. I'm silent.


Colours fade like the troubled look on my mothers face. Brothers stared, cupboards bare when I went running scared.


All hands on dick.


"Most of my friends think green, but can't afford to live it." -P.O.S.


The bad seed branches off the family tree and leaves, no longer feeds on the scraps the tree leaves beneath.


My innocence was stolen by monsters.


All sewn up


I'm off the shelf like when a products been copped, I walk it off like when my mom would say boys, knock it off.


Fact: Everything is actually the same size in Texas, their brains are just smaller.


Emptiness can't speak. A shadow casts me. That's deep, cause I heard it was shallow to not be.


For some strange reason, paper beats rock.


We look down at each other because we look down at ourselves. We are always the problem. We the people.


And the wind died too. And the wind died too.

Come on, lets hit the road and head to the next spot...

click here to check out all of jerm & ninja IX's ABANDONMENT ISSUES