December 16th, 2009
Kill your darlings
This scene has no real point, except that I like it. So it’s getting cut (mainly) from the story, just as soon as I can stomach it. Thank goodness for blogs–you guys take care of my darlings for me.
Her sons were in the front room, music and the tv and their two loud voices all at once. She hollered her greetings, and then meant to go put the groceries away. But she went into the front room instead, carrying the bags.
The boys looked her quizzically, searchingly, researchingly.
“What are you watching?”
Hal said, “We’re done our homework.”
Avery said, “There’s no basketball practice tonight.”
Hal said, “So we’re allowed our tv hour, right?”
Their mother said, “Yes. But that’s not what I asked. I asked what you are watching.”
Avery said, “It’s not violent, and there’s not swears.”
Hal said, “Much.”
She said, “I don’t care.” And then she “pursued the question independently” as her supervisor used to put it, back when she had a supervisor. She sat down on the couch between her sons, bags in her lap, and looked at the screen.
A granite-coloured word swirled on a pink and orange backdrop. She pursed her lips, longed for her notepad. “Mod as in modern?”
“What?” Hal pursed his lips, a mirror of her. Though the boys were identical, somehow he seemed to resemble her more.
Avery arched his eyebrow. “Oh, no, it stands for something, issa, whatcha—the first letters spell a word—”
“Acronym,” she said, her hand hovering above his knee.
“Yeah, that.”
She waited. Finally a negligeed woman with no two strands of blond hair cut the same length staggered onto the screen and began to exhort them all to dance. Hal and Avery looked immediately away from her gyrations, at each other then their mother. “It’s Much on Demand,” said Avery.
“Demand for what?”
Hal dropped his faux-hawked head into his hands. “Mom,” he said, facing the floor. “Much is MuchMusic, a tv station.”
She pointed at the translucent logo at the bottom of the screen.
Avery smiled gently. “Yes, Mom. And they do a request show, like people write in to ask for videos they want to see. They demand them. So it’s Much on Demand. See?”
She thought for a second. “They write in? No phone calls?’
Avery was watching raptly as the woman onscreen danced with her arms over her head. “I dunno. It might be phonecalls sometimes. We doan watch the part with the request. That’s boring.”
“Do you boys write in? And request songs?”
“Nah.” Avery turned to her and thought for a moment. “It’s like, we like what everybody likes. So even if we don’t say nothing, we still get what we want.”
Hal was crumpling some pieces of notebook paper and throwing them into the fireplace, but he nodded and smiled at her encouragingly, as if she had almost solved the math problem. “Yeah, we got real good taste. It’s only people who like weird sh—stuff that gotta call in.”
“But…if only people who liked weird shit called in, wouldn’t only weird shit get played?”
They were both looking at her now, but less encouraging, more special-ed. “It’s only the ones who like weird stuff,” said Avery, “who gotta call in. But lots of people who like good music like to call.”
Hal bounced a paper ball of his brother’s head. “Namely, girls.”
They snickered.
“Ah.” She nodded and stood up. “Thank you for answering my questions. This has been most beneficial.
November 23rd, 2009
On-going goings-on
I think this might be a low-post week due to busyness, but then again it might be a high-post week due to having pictures and reports on the busyness. We’ll see how that goes.
Plans:
Tomorrow night is The Writers’ Trust Awards ceremony. Despite being in a totally different venue than it was two years ago, and thus causing me a little brain-on-fire here-is-not-there moment, I still think it will a lovely event. There will be literary repartee of canapes and fancy drinks, there will be entertaining speeches (at least, last time I attended, almost everyone spoke remarkably well, and briefly), there will be a *lot* of prize money handed out. And there will be me, in a *dress that I ironed* (what I wouldn’t do for literature) helping McLelland & Stewart’s fiction editor Anita Chong announce The Journey Prize 21. Yay for all long-listers, short-listers, and of course, the soon-to-be-known winner (guess who is very excited not to have to keep a secret anymore??)
Then on Wednesday morning, I get to get up very early to go out to University of Toronto at Scarborough to give a lecture of my stories. I’m going to direct my comments mainly towards the last story in *Once*, “Massacre Day,” which is one of the ones the students are studying. It’s also a story I’ve never done a reading from and since the audience has all (allegedly) read the piece, I’m free to read from any point in the piece. I think I might take this unprecedented opportunity to read the ending. But what I am looking forward to most is a discussion with students. It never fails to amaze me when people offer me insightful, thoughtful, utterly accurate interpretations of my work that I never thought of. Can’t wait.
Wednesday evening will find me at Ben McNally’s for the Biblioasis Poetry Bash, appreciating three poets imported to Toronto for the occasion. Should be outstanding–see you there?
So, if this is it for postage for a few days, I would like to leave you with these lines from the song “The New World” by The Burning Hell:
My world would be a place where everyone would play the saxophone
But never soprano saxophone
Only tenor and baritone
Then a drum and a trumpet and a rusty old French horn
Would play a solo and make us shake our little bones
RR
November 17th, 2009
Meantime
I have mired myself in a complicated post that I can’t finish nor even understand the previous drafts of, so for now, I’m a little content poor. But don’t worry, I’m gonna work it out.
Meantime, why don’t you go listen The Burning Hell (if you’re feeling goofy and macabre) or Dave Pomfret (if you’re feeling a bit mellow, a bit bouncy, with a bit of a twang). You could always check out this database of Hamilton writers (yes, I’m in there–whoo-hoo!)
Or you could entertain yourself. It’s sort of sunny outside. Maybe you should just go frolic?
RR
October 24th, 2009
Break
If you count the week as Saturday to Friday, I attended four literary events this week, and spent a similar number of evenings up after midnight. I also did some work, two readings, saw a bunch of awesome people and took some fair-to-middling pictures. And now am so very very tired.
And now, though of course have blogged *The New Quarterly*’s fall launch for you despite any exhaustion, I have a delightful break, because Alex James, who provided the musical accompaniment to the evening, is also a profession blogger, and has a wonderful (and flattering!) post about the event. Hooray! It really was a terribly fun night, with so many friendly writers and delicious food only one jack-knifed tractor-trailer (my publisher, Dan Wells spent only five or so hours on the highway to be there and bring us books!)
So that’s it–I can concentrate on small, easy, non-exhausting tasks for the rest of the weekend–Hallowe’en shopping at Zellers, getting the DVD player to work long enough to play the last two episodes of season one of Slings and Arrows (the first tv show in a long time that I’ve been willing to argue with the DVD player for), maybe a nap in there somewhere.
Weekends are nice, and I hope you enjoy yours! Seeya Monday!
RR
October 22nd, 2009
Entertainments
Depending on your mood and inclination, you might enjoy one or several of the following:
–A beautiful and very sexy duet of “Emmanuel” by trumpeter Chris Botti and violinist Lucia Micarelli (via Leon via Mark)
–So this Dresden Cloak is pretty good: 42 3rd Act Twists (my favourite: “Ancient Druids lose interest”) is only the latest of a number of amusing things from the site Scott’s sent me lately (er, via Scott, obviously).
–Tonight, Amy Jones, Carrie Snyder and myself read at ArtBar in Kitchener to celebrate The New Quarterly’s new issue. I am very excited, and would be delighted to see you there.
–Tomorrow night is the Peep Show at the international festival of authors, hosted by Hal Niedzviecki and featuring a number of authors, including Lauren Kirshner and Dani Couture. See Dani peep it up on her blog.
RR
October 3rd, 2009
Event City
I usually have perhaps one or two standing-at-the-front-of-the-room experiences per month, but I have three this week, and I suppose it won’t be long before I start snapping my fingers for drinks and talking about the difficulties of “my art.” Or maybe not…
After the very fun Writers’ Trust presentation on Wednesday, on Thursday I got to go do a little reading and workshop with the teen writers’ group at North York Public Library, who are so very amazing (as is their leader, Susan Kernohan) that I didn’t have to do all that much of the talking, actually, just sit back and listen to the discussion about why art theory doesn’t help, while Dickens is a must, how inspiration starts, and what to major in in university. Pretty amazing.
And then tomorrow, I’ll be doing a reading for the Draft reading series. Here be the deets:
Sunday October 4th, 2009, 4 – 6 p.m.
The Blue Moon Pub, 725 Queen St. E. (That’s just East of Broadview on the South side.)
Including new work by:
Amy Jones
Lina Medaglia
Sachiko Murakami
Rebecca Rosenblum
Roz Spafford
There will be an open mike. Seven readers, three minutes each. Please arrive at the beginning of the reading to sign up. With the $5 admission fee you get a copy of Draft, a limited-edition publication available only at these readings. For info: draftreadings@gmail.com or 416 433-4170
I am stoked to hear all the other artists on the bill, including the fabulous story-writer Amy Jones (who I have never seen in person!) But I am a little terrified to myself be reading in draft form, something I’ve done only once before. Even that other time, it was a reasonably polished draft, as opposed to this story, which I only started work on a week ago Thursday. Oh dear. This’ll be something different, anyway.
Next week, I think I’ll stop standing at the front of the room and go to other people’s events for a while. Perhaps you would like to, too??
Tuesday October 6–Marta Chudolinska does a signing of her graphic novel, Back + Forth at Ben McNally Books.
Wednesday October 7–It’s the first anniversary (approximately) party for Pivot at the Press Club, and Emily Schultz, Spencer Gordon, Ken Babstock, and Meaghan Strimas take to the stage to celebrate. I am of the opinion that a night at Pivot is *always* a good bet, but this one might even be extra good.
Friday October 9–A non-lit event–the acapella groupCadence live at the Annex. Should be a whole new experience for me, and I hear nothing but good things.
And then we’re into the weekend, and can safely abandon cultural consumption for turkey consumption. I don’t know about you, but I intend to spend the entire weekend hugging people and eating sweet potatoes… But that’s *next* weekend, so I guess this means I should get back to work now.
Hope to see you at one (or more) of the above!
There’s nothing I can do for you you can’t do for yourself
RR
September 29th, 2009
Minutia
1) Very few people are reading this blog so closely as to care, but if you *were* wondering, it go postponed but I did eventually go to this appointment. I just got back, in fact. And yes, I have one booked for 2010, too, but let us not discuss that for now.
2) Today my iPod shuffled My Chemical Romance’s cover of “Desolation Row” right before The Indigo Girls’ cover of “Tangled Up in Blue. It was *so awesome.*
That is all.
Papa’s bankbook wasn’t big enough
RR
September 1st, 2009
Chillin
I am a sucker for really clever, unexpected rhymes, and see the central disadvantage to being a prose writer is the inutility of rhymes in short stories (yeah, well, perspective is not mine; possibly it’s actually something to do with taxes).
Anyway, here’s a rhyme so clever I don’t understand it–I think Wale has some sort of beef with DC. If you have the time, it plays a lot better in context–video is here. Otherwise,
District of Columbia
You Bernie Mac funny
We ain’t scared of none of ya
You’re smiling, aren’t you? Even if you have no bloody clue what’s going on. I think I’m starting to love rap.
La la la la la hey hey hey goodbye
RR
July 25th, 2009
Rose-coloured Reviews the summer dance hits
Once upon a time, I was sort of the the target demographic for the New Kids on the Block v. 1.0, when the first step was “have lots of fun” and no one cared that there weren’t really any other steps–because it was silly spun-sugar fun, that’s why. Those were decidedly *not* the days–I was peer-pressured into spending my limited funds on magazines that had centrefolds and almost no text (it was tween porn!)–but, well, c’mon, “Hangin’ Tough” may not have been a good song but it was a *fun* song, especially if you were 11.
And then the New Kids on the Block v 2.0 released the worst song ever written. Seriously, “Dirty Dancing”? That’s a movie–any chance of those words meaning anything else to the target demographic v 2.0 of young nostalgia-lovin’ females is limited at best. And the homage-lines in the song don’t really make the connection clear to me:
Ooo, it’s so crazy
She’s like, “Baby!”
I’m like Swayze.
Even if you were like Swayze, and I’m not entering that fray (I didn’t like that movie very much and only saw it once; go ahead and excommunicate me from the sisterhood of young nostalgia-lovin’ females), that’s a pretty weak allusion.
Ok, nevermind about the purity of Baby and the gang–this song still sucks. There’s barely any build to the purely electronic, extremely repetitious music (can you still it an ostinado if it’s an electronic loop?). You can totally see that this was designed for the late nights in the club; it basically sounds like a slow grind for closing time. And the lyrics really play to that “desperate drunk female” demographic, who could possibly construe
with her pretty lips
“and her big old hips
…
and her pretty eyes
and her big old thighs”
as romantic sweettalk. Damn straight, “forget about romancin’.”
Oh, and did I mention that this song about a guy getting with someone at a club while his
girl is at home
she’s been blowing me up on my phone
but I can shower when I get home
because tonight I’m dirty dancing.
I hate this song more with every rotation of the earth. And who in NKOTB has a Hispanic accent, anyway?
***
FloRiDa (and Kesha) have adapted Dead or Alive’s decidedly Eighties dance-club who’s-zoomin’-who love story, Right Round into a decidedly Aughts strip-club who’s-for-sale love storyby the same title. Yep, the narrative here is the tale of a young gentleman trying to seduce (I think) a pole-dancer by giving her lots of money (which isn’t exactly seduction, but…)
And yet…I sorta like this song. Ok, no *major* points for respecting women, but Kesha gets to sing the chorus too, which is, to me, a slightly witty update on the Dead or Live lyric, “You spin me right round baby right round like a record baby right.” I think DoL’s metaphor was pretty straightforward, and people (ok, people like me) are so familiar with those words that it takes a minute to get the wrinkle in FloRiDa’s update: “You spin my head right round (right round) when you go down (when you go down down).” You have to think about that one–not hard, I admit, but this a second when you don’t see it, and then you do and that’s good for a smile.
So, the fact that Kesha gets equal opportunities to sing the wink-nudge chorus is not really this the best argument for this song. But it is catchy (thank you yet again, 1980s), and the catchy semi-clever chorus is contrast with the fast, rat-a-tat rhymes (though said rhymes are not especially clever, they sound good when rapped fast:
She’s amazin’
her fire blazin’
hotter than Cajun
Girl, why don’t you move a lil closer?
It’s time to get paid
it’s maximum wage
that body belongs on a poster”
And it’s totally dancable, in an upbeat, only slightly sexy way…. I’ve come to the conclusion, writing this review, that it’s embarrassing that I like this song, but I do. I’ll probably have forgotten it by September, which is likely best for us all.
***
I Gotta Feeling by the Black-Eyed Peas suceeds on all the necessary fun-club-tune metrics: extremely simple concept, hummable chorus, solid thumping beat, sense of—if not humour—at least fun.
“I got a feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night” is the nicest thing in the world to hear when someone grabs your hand and pulls you out the door. And though I lost count of how many times that line is repeated in this song, it never (really) loses its charm. Maybe because it starts out being sung by just one guy, but eventually all the Peas (I have no idea how many there are) start singing in unision, with one or another occasionally breaking away, culminating in this charming call-and-response in the bridge:
Tonight’s the night (hey!)
Let’s live it up (let’s live it up!)
I got my money (paid!)
Let’s spend it up (let’s spend it up!)
Go out and smash it (smash it!)
Like oh my god (like oh my god!)
Jump off that sofa (c’mon!)
Let’s kick it
Off
Fill up my cup (drank!)
Mazel-tov (l’chaim!)
Look at her dancing (move it move it!)
Just take it off!
Let’s paint the town (paint the town!)
We’ll shut it down (shut it down!)
We’ll burn the roof (whooo!)
And then we’ll do it again…
Ok, it’s no Emily Dickinson, but I find it witty (ahaha, “l’chaim” for drank–at last!) and so friendly with all the voices weaving in and out. Ok, “take it off”–not totally PC, but considering how buried the line is, I’m willing to ignore it.
But really, that’s not how one should evaluate a dance hit! This song is fun because it’s *simple*–easy-cute devices like listing the days of the week with Saturday twice, suddenly accelerating the tempo, and making the whole thing seem like an invitation to the listener–“Let’s paint the town!” “I Gotta Feeling” is my favourite dance hit of the summer so far, and even the fact that Fergie goes to a club in a bikini in the video can’t make me feel back about this one.
Rose-coloured reviews will not be addressing the “shorty fire on the dancefloor,” and we are very disappointed in you, Sean Kingston.
And then we’ll do it again
RR
PS–I really like transcribing song-lyrics (I think it makes me more sensitive to vocal nuance, blah blah blah) and did all these myself instead of looking them up. Feel free to call me on it if I got anything wrong.
June 2nd, 2009
Just give me the music
One of the most terrifying things I’ve heard recently was, “Isn’t the music today awful? There were so many good albums when we were in high school and university, and now it’s all crap.” This was from someone my own age!!
Now I’m sure the music scene has boom and bust years, but there’s always someone doing something interesting. Moreover, there’s always “crap”–you tell me how Tiffany‘s better than Britney. And there will always be a place for powdered-sugar pop–for me, that place is at the gym or when I’m mopping the floor.
I am not too worried about getting older–if my motto is “Smarter every day” (and it is, mainly) then any more days I accumulate must be to the good. I do worry a little about *acting* old–nostalgic, reactionary, inflexible, all those good stereotypes. This “It’ll never be as good as it was” thinking will give you arthritis, absolutely.
Thus, one more reason to stay open-minded, or at least to keep listening to the radio. My trip to Japan gave me lots of exposure to fun music, although little of it actually Japanese. I did hear The Cigarettes playing in the street in front of Kyoto station, but they didn’t have an album for sale, so I won’t be hearing them again (sidebar: I wanted to go toss some change in their guitar case, but Ben restrained me; apparently that is *so* gauche in Japan. But…they busk for fun??) They did give me an English flier with a website on it, which I foolishly believed would allow me to find recordings of their music. But the English site is so incoherent and linkless as to be useless. Cigarettes, where are you?
Ok, for recommendations one can actually find, I scrolled happily through the Air Canada inflight entertainment options, and found some pretty good stuff (although I was semi-insane after so many hours in an airplane, so take that with qualifiers). One such good was Eva Avila. She’s definitely in the Tiffany/Britney sphere, but quite catchy and untrashy, in my opinion. I expect the song that gave this post its name has been all over treadmills and high-school dances this year–it’s a chaste song about dancing, but not *that* chaste (“just let me do it just let me do it”). Oh, and she’s cute and *Canadian*. Nice.
A little higher up the pop-music hierarchy, we have Taylor Swift. I ended up picking Dire Straits’ Romeo and Juliet to mention in my Pages interview response about bookish love songs over Swift’s Love Story. But it’s still a warm and charming mainstream country love song, and she’s written lots of’em on, as I discovered on the plane. It does seem that this is a popular artist who has some real talent, both vocally and songwritingwise. I feel confident saying that about a popstar people mock me for liking (you know who you are) because Sasha Frere Jones agress with me.
On a non-top-forty note (note, ha!), my brother and I did an iPod exchange on the Shinkansen and I thus discovered the cheerful histrionics of The Films. I was trying to think what they remind me of, and it’s probably lots of things, but maybe a shot of The White Stripes and a mixer of Franz Ferdinand. Or something like that…
Also on Ben’s iPod was my best musical find of the trip, Bright Eyes. I’m actually not sure that this qualifies as the newest music, as the band’s website hasn’t been updated since 2007, the same year their last album was released. Nevermind, it’s still cutting edge weird, two years on.
Of course, I am a writer (thought that’s not been so obvious on this blog of late) and when I say a band is brilliant I often mean they have brilliant lyrics. I actually think Bright Eyes is up to it musically, but it is the lyrics that make me stand still and close my eyes to listen. Here, for you, “When the Curious Girl Realizes She Is under Glass”:
Tomorrow when I wake up I’m finding my brother
And making him take me back down to the water
That lake where we sailed and laughed with our father
I will not desert him. I will not desert him
No matter how I may wish for a coffin so clean
Or these trees to undress all their leaves onto me
I put my face in the dirt and then finally I see
The sky that has been avoiding me
I started this letter, I’m going to send it to Ruba
It will be blessed by her eyes on the gulf coast of Florida
With her feet in the sand and one hand on her swimsuit
She will recite the prayer of my pen
Saying, “Time take us forward, relief from this longing
They can land that plane on my heart, I don’t care
Just give me November, the warmth of a whisper
In the freezing darkness of my room”
But no matter what I would do in an attempt to replace
All the pills that I take trying to balance my brain
I have seen the curious girl with that look on her face
So surprised she stares out from her display case
~~~~
You see what I mean?
Of course, new music can be exhausting–you have to pay so close attention! I must say I was shockingly glad to find Closer, Sarah McLachlan’s Greatest Hits on the airplane audio menu–the soaring “Vox” was like a magic portal back to 1999 and I listened to the whole album a great number of times (the good/bad thing about 12-hour flights is there’s time to do *everything* a great number of times). Also on the airplane was a new album by Oasis, which seemed reasonably good. However, after a few minutes I had to turn it off because it was just to different from What’s the story, morning glory?. Then I hummed a little of “She’s Electric”, which cheered me, but I also felt my knee joints creak a little.
She’s got a cousin / actually she’s got bout a dozen / she’s got a bun in the oven / but that’s nothing to do with me
RR
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