June 2nd, 2008

For Your Enjoyment

This is my CBC3 Radio Playlist. I think it’s so clever that you can make a playable list of your favourite CanRock, and then send it to your friends so that they can experience what it’s like to live in your aural landscape. I don’t know if anyone cares to listen to mine, but if you have one (or get inspired and build one) I’d love the link, as I am musically ravenous these days. When I like a song, I like it 15 times in a row.

I have read enough acknowlegement pages to know that many writers thank a particular song or album they have listened to on repeat throughout the writing (and/or they thank their housemates and neighbours for putting up with it). I am hoping that my relationship with the “repeat” button has more to do with my literary tendencies than my obsessive ones. Not all songs, no matter how beloved, are musically or lyrically complex to stand up to this treatment (sorry, Avril.) To listen to a 3 minute song for 3 hours, it’s got to have a lot of elements in play. If you are looking for recommendations, Wintersleep and The Arcade Fire both stand up to the challenge quite well (they’re on the playlist).

Another thing, completely unrelated, that you might enjoy is that Diane Schoemperlen did a 12 or 20 Questions or at rob mclennan’s blog. I’ve been waiting for this one (I have full faith rob will get everyone eventually), not only because Schoemperlen is so witty in everything she writes (not everyone who writes good fiction writes good non-fiction *about* writing fiction [witness that sentence]). The other reason: everytime I read one of these and reach question 8 (when was the last time you ate a pear?), I think of the Schoemperlen storylette, “Small Room with Pears” (from her brilliant Forms of Devotion) and thought the story would be referenced when the author herself answered #8. But she doesn’t bring it up, which was a small disappointment, but still, her answers were quite wonderful to read. Enjoy!

Resurrection/livin’ in the past
RR

May 18th, 2008

I take requests

My interpretation of the words to “Daytime Emmy” by Heartbreak Scene. Whaddya think–am I close? It *is* hard to make out, but I think I’ve got the soul of it here:

I’m the winner of a daytime Emmy
Not too bad for a clockpuncher
They killed me once and the fans brought me back
I make such beautiful enemies.

My scar’s on already
My drink needs a straw
And then I gotta get ahold of my agent
But I’m off in Iowa openin a mall
You were broke, I’d been fired

(chorus)
I don’t feel very safe
You always used to always treat me like a special case

The offer offer looks good
Sellin’ garbage to trash
But do I disappoint them or the ones that catch me?

Entertainment’s a lifetime callin’
They’ll always be watchin as long as you’re fallin’

(chorus repeated many times)

The qualified ideal that you gotta be patient
They’re running your seasons right now in Malasyia

(chorus repeated many times)

April 30th, 2008

Up (and) coming

All Idle Tigers fans (and fans-to-be, and fans-in-law) should be at Cameron house this Thursday for the Spirit Salon album launch! Shameless groupie that I am, I’ll push a little more:

a SPIRIT SALON SPECIAL: Idle Tigers album launch
with Pants and Tie and Katherine Sheng Morrison
Thursday, May 1, 2008 at 9:15pm
The Cameron House
408 Queen Street West (Queen and Spadina)
Toronto, ON

Another thing that’s coming up at some point is the release of the new issue of UofT lit mag *echolocation*. The website is no longer being updated, but if you go here you can see a picture of how the cover will look, which I think is pretty dreamy. Of course, I’m biased because said cover contains my short story, “The Weatherboy,” among other gems and treasures. Things don’t much run on schedule in the echolocating world, but allegedly it’ll be available in the next few weeks. I’ll keep you posted.

My girlfriend was insulted by a futurist artist
RR

April 7th, 2008

Musical Notation

To clarify my previous post, in which I mention that Mark Everett is 75% of The Eels–Everett writes and sings all the songs, as well as performing on various accompanying instruments. Other accompaniment has been provided by various others over the years, including the ever patient Butch, Mr. E’s Beautiful Orchestra, and currently, a young man referred to as The Chet. The Chet is extremely good in fulfilling demands of being an entire back-up band, singing and playing the piano, drums, guitar and saw, sometimes more than one in a single song. Still, he is a supporting player, and though one of two, is still somewhat less than half the operation. In my opinion.

In other music opinionating, I have a hip-hop recommendation, which given my general tastes and the colour-scheme around here, you may find surprising. Yes, there is the bias of friendship involved in this recommendation, but having listened to Koko Bonaparte‘s tracks with extreme care to make up for my untrained ear, I am pretty sure that they are amazing. I realize you will (and should) take that with a grain of salt, but I’m nearly positive. Check her out for yourself!

Rich men wanna be king
RR

April 5th, 2008

Brilliant Abundance

Suspecting I might feel somewhat bereft after the glamourous events of earlier this week, I scheduled myself an onslaught of friends and fun in the surrounding days. It worked pretty well, due to the brilliant abundance of Toronto’s friends and events, both. Some highlights

Basia Bulat at Lee’s Palace, on the autoharp, accompanied by ukulele, viola, and banjo.

Charles Foran, Pico Iyer, and Chuck Thompson on three very different travel experiences (SARS in Hong Kong, visiting the Dali Lama [can you believe that website exists?] and commercial vacations) at Harbourfront.

Greek bulgurand vegetables and endless good conversation at Kerry’s beautiful new home.

More good conversation about Special Topics in Calamity Physicsat book club (shh, book clubs are not lame unless the people in them are. And the people in mine are awesome).

Delicious dinner at Sushi Island, which included delicious unagi, which is strangely thematic since afterwards we went to see The Eels at the Mod Club. Another theme of the week could tie in with the above Calamity Physics, since the opener of the evening was not another band but a short documentary about Mark Everett’s (the man who is 75% of the Eels) father, Hugh Everett the unjustly ignored physicist who developed the theory of parallel universes. The movie was ok, I’m not much one for theoretical particles, but the Eels were so amazing–the saw solo! The carpets! Mr. Everett was in fine fine voice, and stellar drumming, and, oh, I really liked that show.

So this is why I say my city is brimming with brilliant abundance. Although now I am very tired. I will briefly drop in at Lindsay’s spring party, and then I think things will get a little less abundance for a while.

Riding a red line / no where

March 25th, 2008

You might wanna

…come see a bunch of writers, including me, read tomorrow night at the Exile Quarterly/Exile Editions Launch: 7:15, the Dora Keogh Pub, more info at the link. High hopes for fun and literature abound.

Other fun upcoming is the Idle Tigers show at The Embassy on Saturday, 29th of March as part of the Pitter
Patter Festival. I hear the Tigers are going to be up quite late in the evening, so if you can’t make that, you can always just pre-order the record, The Spirit Salon ahead of the May 1 release date and feel giddy with anticipation. I did, and now I do.

Also, it was both sunny *and* warm this morning, a rare combination. Hooray!

So pay my way into Graceland
RR

March 18th, 2008

I like

Am I ever going to get it together to review something? This is the extremely small question of the hour, which I mainly ignore. Until then, here are some things I’ve been uncritically enjoying.

Thom Bryce, of Free Biscuit fame, has a new play called *The Curative* being performed this week by the (pivotal)arts folks at the WriteNow! festival, in conjunction with three other plays that I haven’t seen, but if *The Curative* is a fair sample, are probably brilliant. (Warning: *The Curative* is not for the faint-hearted, in terms of both sex and violence. The word “chilling” comes to mind.)

The joyful music of The Choir Practice. I don’t know what I need more faith in, but this pretty music redeems it all.

Smoked tofu–it doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page, but it’s delicious (as tofu goes) and little known. Consider it.

Oh, and just to show I can dislike stuff, I didn’t think Lars and the Real Girl was very good, and, worse, gave a simplistic reductive portrayl of both women and the mentally ill.

But really, who am I to say?

You look so good with a gun / but that hat doesn’t suit you
RR

February 29th, 2008

Words for Real Life

I’ve got this storebought way
Of saying I’m ok
And you’ve learned how to cry
In total silence

We’re talented and bright
We’re lonely and uptight
We’ve found some lovely ways
To disappoint

But the airport’s always almost empty
This time of the year
So let’s go play on a baggage carousel
And set our watches forward like we’re just arriving here
From the past we left in a place we knew too well

From “Watermark” by the Weakerthans

January 13th, 2008

Weekends Are for Wonderful

I have to say that the Free Biscuit performances Friday night were nothing short of astounding! To say nothing of the fact that Steph and Mark built a *stage* with *footlights* in their living room. To say nothing of the delicious food, the collapsable flying disk printed with sex-ed websites that Matthew brought me, to say nothing of the absolutely brilliant performances. Oh, wait, I already did say something about that. For my own part, I managed not to fall off the aforementioned stage, forget (m)any lines or, you know, die, which if you are one of those unlucky enough to have listened to much of the fretting I was doing about this performance, seemed like a possibility for a while. I’m really sorry about all that fretting, guys–I’m pleased to say that not only was it not horrible, I’m positively delighted I didn’t fake a stroke in order to stay home (also a possibility at one point).

The wonders slowed down slightly yesterday, consisting mainly of the discovery that Penny is right about whipped cream being better than CoolWhip, and that strawberry shortcake can (sorta) be created in January, if all concerned have enough patience and active imaginations. Also the joyous revelation that a first draft of a story that I thought might never be done is in fact nearly done. The thing about me and my dire predictions is that I have such a wide margin in which to be pleasantly surprised.

More pleasant surprises: gentle giants of my university years, the band Pigeon Hole has seemed defunct of late (hence the lack of hyperlink there), have a four-song artist page on CBC3 (search the song “Similar Promises”). This is handy for the vast majority of earthlings who do not own a copy of the chom 97.7 L’esprit 2000 cd, which is where I get my Pigeon Hole fix! Enjoy!

And so, when you wonder about the *next* draft of that story, the mysterious angry muscle in my back, the piercing hour of fire alarm that almost made me cry yesterday (I react really badly to loud noises) (it’s really hard to make me cry otherwise) (don’t try), or any of a dozen other scary things that I have do, we can really do little but be grateful for weekends.

Gloria / I think they got your number
RR

November 27th, 2007

An open (love) letter to John K. Samson

It’s a funny thing: I also want to call requests through heating vents. I also sometimes find myself feeling like a float in a summer parade, or a girl in a Miss Somewhere sash. You seem to understand those things you shouldn’t miss. Also days that don’t like us, when all you want to do is drink and watch tv, though the sunlight demands action. You’ve got words for a lot of things I really feel have been needing words, like the 18 North Main and sinks full of bottles and cultery. I really think we could have a good conversation, if we were ever together in an all-night restaurant in a brand-new strip mall, killing time and communicating in questions. I’d like to ask you about the blinking snow in Winnipeg and whether wishing on the pop of a lightbulb actually works. I’d like to tell you that, if I believed in tears, I’d cry at hospital vespers. I think that you write music somebody could use. So, if we ever do meet, let the waitress put the chairs up, and we can talk about the weather, or how the weather used to be.

I’m so glad that you exist
RR

PS—John K. Samson is the lead singer and, more importantly, the lyricist for the wonderful Winnipeg band, The Weakerthans. Almost any song you could think of by that band, or Samson solo, will be an almost perfect poem or short story set to music. The above is a blender of some of my favourite lines—none of it’s mine except the pronouns and verb conjugations, in case there was any doubt.
PPS—It’s a purely *professional* love letter, of a striving writer to an admired one. John K. Samson is married to Christine Fellows who is actually a similarly brilliant lyricist, of lines like “A photo essay on a family in mourning / slightly perforated to better let the light in” “what’s good enough for chickens is plenty good enough for you and I”. Can you think of a better harmony?