She's...walking out

Already I'm quoting the new Stills CD. The last verse of the song from today's title is:

Blow out all the candles
Let the wine flow to your brain
No ages, no one changes
No one's trying to.

Should we try to change, ie improve? Sometimes I think yes, and I've been putting a *lot* of effort into it, in various ways. But then other times, no. Other times, it's nice to just sit back and admire your hard work.

Sarah (not in the picture) and I went to Ottawa this weekend. She was running the 10K. We stayed at Anna & Fred's, where I got to meet their kittens Maynard and Veruca. Friday night was just lots of wine, and catching up. Telling our stories. Saturday, we all went to pick up Sarah's race materials; ate delicious veggie food at Table; and visited some "designer" garage sales before the race. Did you know the runners wear a chip on their shoes to track their exact start/finish time? And you can follow the runners along via the internet, and see how their time is at certain intervals. It was lots of fun, and even therapeutic, to cheer random runners on from the 200 metre mark. We were there because I got in touch with my old friend Marisa and her husband was also running the 10k (Marisa ran the 5k earlier) and that's where they agreed she'd be. It was a great spot: the runners are almost done, and you get to support them by clapping and yelling and whatnot. It feels great. One guy ran by and implored the crowd "motivate me!".

I was having a difficult time socializing (aka not having a nervous breakdown) so later Sarah, Anna and Fred and Anna's friend Vickie went out for dinner and drinks and I stayed home and watched tv. Fell asleep during the lame Saturday Night Live.

My favourite part of the day -besides the cheering- was possibly finding a big tree to sit under, near a thai statuette, where I could watch the fat black ants walk.

Today Sarah and I came back with her soccer coach, in a real Jeep, with the back open and the wind in our hair. An awesome sunny day for a jeep ride home.

***
I leave on Saturday for LA (work). I have lots of plans to put into action these days, and from here on in. I guess some of them are things I keep saying, and now I want to put my money where my mouth is.

I want to look into a real yoga pass, instead of paying per-class. It'll help keep my commitment during the weeks when I'm short on cash, because it will already be paid for.

I got a few girlfriends interested in going to the soccer-baseball game on Wednesday (?) so I'm happy about that. It's so bizarre: me happy to do a "sport", but I think maybe it doesn't count since it's something kids play at, no pressure.

Button and I came up with a little project that we should be working on soon.

My herbs are planted and I'm eager to see their development. My long-term goal is to become a greenthumb and have my own garden, with all kinds of plants. I know, I killed the orchid, but don't you just learn more from pain? :P

Summer is here, says Sarah, and that means one thing: Laurier Pool!!! Hallelujah.

I'm so full of myself

A few things happened, on the edges.

One, as I mentioned in the Spanish post about the rain-walks, I decided to pick up a cut flower I found on the street one wet night and put it on someone's windshield. It's been so long since anything had any magical meaning in my life. I feel like I've been waiting for mystical signs that never happen, or I can't interpret them. So when I was down and out and I saw the flower I thought, oh well, maybe I can at least try to add some mystery to someone else's life (whoever found the flower on their car the next day and wondered where it had come from and what it meant).

Two, I was looking at this site that tells you who links to your blog, and I found this blog that said "Uhuhhhhh" about my old "member of the True Love Mafia" slogan (since replaced with a favourite personal request for enthusiasm). First I wanted to send the cynical author the picture I took in D.U.M.B.O, NY, that is where I took True Love Mafia from in the first place. And then I realized I have nothing to offer someone who thinks sarcasm and judging people based on their likes and dislikes are normal and cool behaviour.

Three, I had a good long conversation with my old friend Barbara last night (not Bubi, the other one). Her listening skills and her words actually refreshed my faith in belief. Belief in the merits of all the SAPPY ROMANTIC RIDICULOUS CHILDISH SILLY HAPPY CRAZY OVER-THE-TOP things that I am and that I love.

Rufus says...

Is this heartbreak or is this heartburn?
Have I been played or do I need a rolaid?
Gotta learn the difference 'tween I love ya
The difference 'tween I love ya and the symptoms of ebola

Is this heartbreak or is this heartburn?
Can I be spared from being so dramatic?
Gotta learn the difference 'tween I love ya
The difference 'tween I love ya and that derailed rollercoaster

Gonna rain down on my sunny Sunday shoes
Guess best I get some galoshes

Let me tell you that this song's useful
Yes this song's useful when you're really drunk
And you gotta learn the difference 'tween I love ya
The difference 'tween I love ya and whatever.

nothing left for me to do but dance

It still hasn't stopped raining here in the Ark.

Last night was Sean Kosa at SAT after meeting everyone at Copa and having some pre- drinks at Foufounes. I thought he was pretty dance-able. I think Tom had some issues with the guy's knob-turning. Not my area of expertise. Still, it was fun to go back to the SAT and people-watch. How do those girls get around in strappy sandals when it's raining so much my knees are wet?

There was a guy there, "Napoleon", who had all the best moves. He was doing this fluid version of the robot or something. Entirely like Mr. Dynamite. And sweating all down the back of his shirt for his efforts. I wish I could show it.

***
Tom's at a stag party tonight. Of course, I would call it a low-key stag considering its principal attraction is foosball at Bifteck. Not at all like the time I had a Ricky Martin look-a-like stripper at my apartment.

J. Gallagher, who has my choice for best Montreal blog and who won that category in The Mirror's Best of Montreal, has got my link on his site. How cool is that?

Just like Heaven

(Para la Elvirita)

Show me how you do that trick
The one that makes me scream" she said
"The one that makes me laugh" she said
And threw her arms around my neck
"Show me how you do it and I promise you
I promise that I'll run away with you
I'll run away with you"

Spinning on that dizzy edge
I kissed her face and kissed her head
And dreamed of all the different ways I had
To make her glow
"Why are you so far away?" she said
"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you?
That I'm in love with you?"

You
Soft and only
You
Lost and lonely
You
Strange as angels
Dancing in the deepest oceans
Twisting in the water
You're just like a dream...

Daylight licked me into shape
I must have been asleep for days
And moving lips to breathe her name
I opened up my eyes
And found myself alone
Alone
Alone above a raging sea
That stole the only girl I loved
And drowned her deep inside of me

You
Soft and only
You
Lost and lonely
You
Just like heaven

algunas lluvias son mejores que otras

Hace un buen rato que llueve en Montreal. No es como la lluvia de invierno en Santiago, aunque capaz que sí porque lo que acá pasa como primavera de repente allá sería la cola o el comienzo del invierno. "Templado" le decimos los optimistas.

Le hace bien a las plantas. Ya saqué algunas de las más aperradas mías al balcón, porque ya pasó la amenaza de heladas. Así que ahí están el Perejil y no sé qué es lo otro: empapados.

La otra noche, hace como dos semanas, me volví caminando en la lluvia del metro Berri, o sea que a una estación y media de metro de mi casa. Era una lluvia de ésas que limpian todo. Las calles, las veredas, los callejones, hasta el aire. No había nadie alrededor y después del desorden del invierno y de los primeros meses de primavera, parecía que alguien hubiera barrido y mojado todo con su manguera de agua fresca. Y así, poéticamente, me robé una flor del magnolio de la calle Cherrier.

Hace un par de noches, salí a caminar en la lluvia, esta vez con paraguas. Normalmente me basta con la tele o un libro para pasar la noche, pero esta vez tenía ganas de salir. Me paseé primero por la calle Saint Denis, mirando zapatos en las vitrinas. Volví por Roy, o sea la vuelta larga, y caminé hasta el Parque Lafontaine, escuchando caer las gotas en la calle y sobre mi paraguas rojo. En el parque me sentí llevada por esas intuiciones frustrantes que te parecen indicar que si las sigues, algo mágico pasará, pero a mí rara vez se me cumple ese misterio. Ninguna señal divina, sólo un impulso. La laguna se veía bonita desde mi posición bajo un gran árbol. Quisiera poder decir que estaba sumida en la oscuridad más profunda, pero no es el campo. Aparte de las luces de la ciudad, alrededor de la laguna en el parque hay focos. Bueno, una se hace la loca. Usa la imaginación no más. A la vuelta encontré una flor cortada y botada en la calle. La recogí y la dejé en el parabrisas de un auto estacionado. A ver si al menos a otro le hago sentir algo mágico.

Esta noche me volví caminando de la casa de Tom y en cuanto salí a la calle empezó a llover. Abrí el mismo paraguas rojo, me aferré a mi revista In Style y al libro que Tom me prestó, y me largué a tiritar. Llovió tan fuerte todo el camino, que son como 20 minutos a pie, que llegué hasta con el pelo mojado, a pesar que de que iba bajo la protección de mis paraguas. Todo de los muslos para abajo empapado, los jeans pegados, los zapatos embarrados y húmedos por dentro. ¿Les conté que iba sin calcetines? Esto no era magia, era como una maldición. Si empezó JUSTO cuando salí a la calle. Mi papá quizás tiene razón: Dios sí castiga.

Oye, y na' que ver pero si tenís onda tres puchos, convídate uno, no seai mala onda poh! (me lo quería sacar del sistema no más y en este idioma espero que la iñipiñi no cache)

we all need to feel secure, we're so middle class

My middle class childhood friend Hilary and I went to have a "moment" at the Stills show last night (Spectrum).

I bought the debut album, Logic Will Break Your Heart, when Hil and I were living together in NDG, aka "the Wesmount-adjacent lifestyle". It played a lot in that apartment and Hilary really loved it, so when I heard The Stills were playing I knew who I had to call. Good luck for me, Hilly's on vacation so she had the night off.

We met with Les Boys at Foufounes first, for pre-show drinks. Tom, Steve, Graham and Julian and Justine went to the Ninja Tunes show at Metropolis to hear Coldcut (aka "Baloney!") and Blockhead, and hopefully get into the after-party. I guess there will be more news on the success or failure of that venture on Tom's blog. I'm betting on "success".

The great thing about last night's show, compared to the show I saw at Club Soda maybe 2 years ago, is that it did NOT seem as though a busload of 14-year old private-school girls had been shipped in. There were actual males at this concert, and people over the legal age of majority. Hurray for that. As usual with the shows I like to go see in Montreal -and I guess it's normal because it's Quebec- most people are French. Personally, I think this just means French Quebecers know what's good for them. And they're hotter.

Anyway, show was great. An even mix of the new album (bought it) and the old one. Dramatic silhouette light effects. Bilingual banter. I miss the sullen guitarist that left last year, he looked cool, but the new additions were awesome. Keyboardists rule, as usual, and I liked the drummer's parisien-boy striped top.

The picture is from their website, thanks!

***
Random notes: Looking to put a birdhouse up on my balcony. Such pretty whistling.

Deep Water

Why do we get along better with some people? Or actually, why do we like some people more?

There are some people who I look at -many not in person anymore, so just in pictures or over an msn icon- who seem to have more depth to them. I sense that there's many stories there, and interesting opinions, and questions as well as inadvertent answers. I think most of those people are my friends, although sometimes I've gotten that feeling just in passing, and then the person's gone.

I want you all to to meet one of those people, Ms. Amy Pagnotta. A star. Now starring in her own blog.

See and be scene

Earlier this weekend in Montreal...

* Ran into Steve at the TD on Prince Arthur and Saint Laurent on Saturday afternoon. He was going to yoga -eventually- and I was picking up wine for that night's dinner.

* Saw Sam crossing St. André and Napoleon on Sunday after lunch. Apparently he lives near me. I was in the car with my dad, heading to new and exciting supermarkets.

* Spotted Grae with a very pretty redhead parking their bikes on St. Viateur later on Sunday. I was still in the car with dad, returning from a stop at St. Viateur bagel and the usual conversations about hasidics.

Are you on this list? If not, *why* not?
The dad, last fall.

Hey la, my boyfriend's back!

***
When I met you I was just a kid,
hadn’t built up my defenses,
so I gave my heart completely,
vaseline over the lenses,
memories don’t go away,
I remember every day.

I never ever stop wondering,
Wondering if you still think of us,
I don’t need a photograph,
'cause you’ve never left my mind,
No, you’ve never left my mind.
(Requiem for O.M.M.2, by Of Montreal)
***
In Shogun it says the Japanese "compartamentalize" certain thoughts and emotions to keep them from disturbing the other parts of their lives. I think in modern psychology this is called "disassociation" but Sarah can correct me. I also heard -from a friend who heard it from her shrink- that men are better at it naturally then women. I am actually quite good at it. Maybe it's because of my sun sign, or maybe it's because of my high levels of testosterone. How do I know I have lots of T? From the Brain Sex ID quiz I told you all to take some time ago.

***
The most important news today is that the man who enriches my life, surprises me constantly and makes me laugh is coming home. Oh, Tomcee, Tomcee, I have a surprise for you!!

Whenever I come home from a week away at some conference - from another Hyatt with the same layout as the last one, from another city with yet another chain of "common denominator food" that everyone can agree on, and another messy, noisy airport and a crowded flight- Tom always (except that one time he was still sleeping off the night before) has the apartment cleaned up, yummy REAL food for me, and a big hug and smile. It's perfect. And now I get to be the one waiting at home... or so he thinks! muahaha!

If only I can knock of this exhaustion from last night's celebrations so that I too don't end up sleeping when he gets back.

Button's Birthday Bash began at Les Pas Sages, on Rachel and Mentana. I got her this book Grammer Snobs are Great Big Meanies. You should get it too.

Then we went for dinner at Le Piton de la Fournaisie. I might be spelling that wrong. It's also right near my house, on Duluth near St-Hubert. Jenn, formerly of Jenn & Nick, recommended it to me, and it really was great. I also learned -from the French no less- that ginger is an aphrodisiac. No wonder sushi was such a success in the West.

The party part continued at La Tulipe's '80s night, including numerous French songs that Ben knew all the words to (???) and that the rest of us anglos sang "aaaaah! oooooh! eeeeeeeeh!" to while waving our hands to appear just as nostalgic as everyone else. It was as hot as ever in there, and even more packed than I remember from last fall. Just as great a time, and I have the foot injuries to prove it.

Ok, got to go grocery shopping with the dad now. The dad who just finished reading his first French book ever. Don't you love Quebec?

If I've had to start taking notes to write for this blog, is that just a change of habit or does it reveal a larger change of direction for me? No answer required.

I rented John Cassavetes's Opening Night last night. I was swept off my feet by what was written on the flipside of the dvd box. I don't have it now to copy it here because the store doesn't loan you that box; only the see-through plastic box. It was about Mr. Cassavetes's recurring theme of people needing to see through the lies they tell themselves about themselves. The need for crisis as stepping-stone to personal development. It reminded me of conversations with Amy.

Gena Rowlands has funny eyebrows. They remind me of the classic black-and-white film star-look. "Oh".

I particularly liked how the scene with the girl touching the limo window through the pouring rain looked.

When I was at the Concordia film screening on Tuesday I realized I could never make a movie. I just wouldn't know how to use the tools, because overall I can't think ahead what I'd like to see. When I see it, I know it's beautiful. Like that scene, I mean.

***
I have some random thoughts to purge. Feel free to skip.

- the tragic demise of the Go-Go's "prestige" as they sell it out to tv ads. In the US I heard a pizza chain do "We got the meat, we got the meat, we got the meat.... we got the meat!"

- is Paris as terrible as Carrie made it out to be? Maybe she's "too" all-American.

- the census. something about that.

- oh yeah! and I cleaned the tub.