October 15th, 2007

Name Dropping

And *another* thing that I’m behind on is shout-outs to the various people I know doing amazing things, to the extent that I’ve missed calling attention to things you probably would’ve liked to know about, or maybe did anyway, like Idle Tigers at Sneaky Dee’s last night, which I missed but heard was wild and cosmic (and cosmetic) or the the launch of the Descant Fashion Issue last Wednesday at the Gladstone. The Fashion Issue is double-cool, both because I love clothes and because it contained the work of talented Rose-coloured amiga, Lindsay Zier-Vogel. In fact, it *still* contains said poems and you should really go and get yourself a copy, because the thing is enormous and filled with wild and wildly diverse takes on fashion. Something for everyone, I’m sure.

Something else I did not completely miss the boat on is the wonders of Ms Kerry Clare now sharing additional brilliance on the Descant Blog on her favourite and best subjects, literature and life. Kerry was kind enough to invite me to accompany her and her husband Stewart (hmm, don’t think he has a web presence I can link to, so you’ll have to take my word that he’s delightful) to the launch, which was nice because it made me feel *in the know*, plus Stewart and Kerry are good company.

One last thing (that I can think of) if you feel like continuing to embrace the cultural scene with people I know, is the fundraiser this Saturday at the Now Lounge for Curtis Saretske’s debut feature film, Gun In the Woods. There will be music, raffles and probably a lot of other people whose names would be worth dropping. Also, Curtis’s movie!!! The tag line is: “It’s about love. It’s about jealousy. It’s about murder.” Deets below.

Sat. Oct. 20, 2007. 8pm
Now Lounge, 189 Church St., Toronto
$15 at the door

With friends like these, I don’t need to accomplish anything myself, really, do I?

They crash and burn / they burn and fade so slow
RR

September 25th, 2007

Wanna Play?

On-going group project, Kerry, Val, John, and me so far, to find songs about the radio. Why do I care so much about the radio? Unknown. Play with me anyway!

“Video Killed the Radio Star” by the Bugles
“This is Radio Clash” by the Clash
“Radio Nowhere” by Bruce Springsteen
“On the Radio” by Regina Spektor
“Sh*t on the Radio” by Nelly Furtado
“Radio Radio” by Elvis Costello
“Radio Free Europe” by REM
“Boys on the Radio” by Hole
“Radio Ga Ga” by Queen
“Are You Out There?” by Dar Williams
“Do You Remember Rock’n’Roll Radio?” by The Ramones
“AM Radio” by Everclear
“Transistor Sister” by Freddie Cannon
“Catch My Disease” by Ben Lee

They play me on the radio
RR

Idle Tigers at the Boat

Why yes, that paragon of brilliance and insantity, The Idle Tigers (don’t bother with the link right now, it’s being difficult, this is just here for future reference) will be making his onstage debut this evening at The Boat in Kensington Market, round about 9:30, which as we all know is *very nearly* my bedtime, yet I am planning on being there, because that’s what a good show it is going to be. You should come, too!

too much of nothing / could make a man insane
RR

PS–It has just occurred to me that the “Idle Tigers playing at the Boat” could be an elaborate set-up to make a joke about this book. But it probably isn’t.

September 23rd, 2007

Weekend in quotes

“[Cheryl Ruddock] builds and then buries layer after layer of colour, image, and idea.” –Minnie King on the fix temporal exhibit at Xe Xe Gallery

“Eating the bones is easy; fry them crisp, tear bread. Eating the bones is something no one does now. There is no step between stopping bone-eating and stopping herring-earting. No one eats herring in the other houses. They eat boiled ham, peanut butter, cheese slices not sliced from anything.”
–Kathleen Winter, “Eating the Bones,” boYs

“If you never say your name out loud to anyone / they can never ever call you by it.”
—Regina Spektor, “Better,” Begin to Hope

RR

September 3rd, 2007

Weekend Summation

–What blue blue skies!
–Tequila Bookroom has a rooftop patio that is gorgeous. Did you know that? I didn’t know that.
–I bought patent leather shoes. They are very shiny.
–Kim(berly) came to visit and she has been in the sun so much this summer that she is blonder than ever. Lemon blond, Barbie blond, it’s insane. And she is also well and charming as ever, and the visiting cat adores her.
–Oh my goodness, the weather was so gorgeous–sunny and warm, but with a coolish breeze and at any hour the sun seems to be on a tilt. I guess this is what they mean by Indian Summer. Is that expression still acceptable, political-correctness-wise?
–I also bought a $98 sweater for $24. That makes it easier to accept that sweater-weather is coming.
—High School Musical: the Concert lacks exposition.
–Long weekends are nice.
–What are we celebrating on Labour Day again?

Get your head in the game!
RR

August 31st, 2007

If they were going to abbreviate something, why TGIF?

Isn’t it nice enough to spell out in full? Especially on a day when one has the leisure time to do so.

Mmm, a three-day weekend, haven’t had one of *those* in a while. No, that’s a lie, I had three days off in July, when I went to Ottawa. But travelling, while awesome, is not *relaxing.* This afternoon when I got home, I took a *nap.* I might take another one before bed tonight. We’ll see (there’s good comedy sketch floating around somewhere, about Ronald Regan, featuring a bedtime nap–think it’s on YouTube?)

Actually, tonight after I have digested dinner I’ll probably go the gym. I meant to go for a run in the glorious cool sunshine, but the nap and the dinner made it later, and the long shadows in the ravine at dusk freak me out. Plus the new gym is still new enough to feel fun. For one thing, it’s right around the corner, so I can go late in the evening, go spontaneously, not shower or change after, just lunge home. Gosh, this is boring.

Ok, the really cool thing about the gym is that they have televisions there, and if you bring your own headset you can plug yourself in and choose from 5 or 6 scintillating cable shows.

Now we know that Casa Rose-coloured is tv-free since the unfortunate incident that I actually didn’t witness but that broke my tv somewhere in 2004. And as for cable, it has never been a presence in my life. I grew up in a so-called dead zone (note: not a metaphor) where none of the cable companies are willing to run service. That’s right, “willing”. We used to think that they weren’t *able* for some reason, but it turns out that the population densitiy is just too low to make the initial investment in infrastructure worthwhile. It’s very annoying, but it probably made for a purer childhood.

I’ve almost never, for example, seen music videos. Not even at friends’ houses, as most friends who were close enough to share appliances also lived in the dead zone. We really thought that half an hour of *Video Hits* Sunday afternoons on CBC was as good as it got.

As I got older, I realized how wrong we were–at parties, in hotel rooms, other people’s houses, university residence. And of course, my folks did some sort of satellite fandango the year I moved out and got *everything*. The year I moved out, figures. But it’s hard to make it a priority, you know? So the gym is really my first chance to watch whatever I want (well, Much and some other version of Much) for as long as I want. Which as it turns out, is most of my cardio, which is bad news indeed for the *New Yorker* (hmm, note to self: *New Yorker* not person, cannot be offended nor miss you.)

Oh, and did I mention I go to a “women’s gym” where everyone’s fiftyish and monied and “concentrating” (so why did I choose it? It was the cheapest, strangely.) The only people young and even vaguely hip are the staff, who I guess set the channels. So when the permanent wave ladies stroll past me as I’m chuckling away at My Chemical Romance and those cheerleaders in gasmasks (brilliant–what’s that song called?) it makes me feel vaguely young and hip, too.

Also I’m getting lots of cardio in, which is good.

Also it took me nearly two hours to get from work to the doctor’s office today (it was a half day). BIRT this is not a TTC rant way-station. Hence, perhaps, the need for the nap.

I took a shuttle on the shock wave
RR

August 16th, 2007

This Linkable Life

I’ve realized that many of the blogs I admire have lots of lovely links embedded in the posts, which save me the trouble of Googling the books, music, events and information that they mention. Not that it’s not easy to Google, or that I really want to see a picture of *every* book cover or celebrity mentioned, but sometimes I do and it’s so *friendly* that someone’s bothered with the HTML to make my life just that much easier.

I’ve been really lazy with the links here, but that’s all about to change!!

As summer winds up, I’ve been a bit spinny with all that needs to get done, but many nice things are also afoot. I bought a couple new (to me, not to the world) cds to celebrate…well, to celebrate having money in my pocket, basically. I haven’t bought cds in ages, all part of my grad-school shopping embargo, so these are especially delightful. One is Get Behind Me Satan by the White Stripes, which is kickass, except I haven’t quite figured out what to do with it yet. It’s not running music, it’s not writing music, it mainly seems to be sit-and-listen music, which I don’t have tonnes of time for. It used to be proofreading music, when I discovered the White Stripes on the shared drive at my old work (that’s so Canadianese, isn’t it? “my work” as a place?)

On the other hand, Blood on the Tracks is all-the-time music. There’s nothing on this album that isn’t intensely hummable, funny and bizarre. Possibly why it’s often referred to as one of the greatest albums ever! I’m sorry it took me my whole life to listen, but whatever, it’s good. Unfortunately, Mr. Dylan is not the *nicest* guy in the world, and his tendency to be snarky is not so soothing in my current state of high anxiety. Nevertheless, I have taken to listening to “Idiot Wind” every morning before I leave the house. That can’t be good.

More links soon, promise promise.

You better take that diamond ring / you better pawn it babe
RR

June 4th, 2007

Challenge: punctuation and paragraphing

Well, there was this movie I seen one time. About a man riding across the desert, and it starred Gregory Peck. He was shot down by a hungry kid tryin to make a name for himself. The townspeople wanted to crush that kid down and string him up by the neck.
Well, the marshal, now he beat that kid to a bloody pulp. As the dyin young fighter lay in the sun and gasped for his last breath: Turn him loose, let him go, let him say he outdrew me, fair and square. I want him feel what it’s like to every moment face his death.
Well, I keep seein this stuff, and it just comes rollin in, and you know it blows right through me like a ball and chain. You know, I can’t believe we’ve lived so long, and are still so far apart. The memory of you keeps callin out to me like a rollin’ train.
I can still see the day you came to me on a painted desert in your busted down Ford and your platform heels. I could never figure out why you chose that particular place to meet. Ah, but you were right, it was perfect as I got in behind the wheel. Well, we drove that car all night, until we got into St. Antoine. And we stared at the Alamamo. Oh, your skin was so tender and soft. Way down in Mexico, you went out to find a doctor and you never came back. I would’ve gone out after you, but I didn’t feel like lettin my head get blown off.
Well, we’re drivin’ this car, and the sun is comin’ up over the Rockies. And well, I know she ain’t you, but she’s here and she’s got that dark rhythm in her soul. But I’m too over-the-edge and I ain’t in the mood anymore to remember the times when I was your only man. Ah, she don’t wanna remind me, she knows this car would go out of control.

Brownsville girl, with your Brownsville curls
Teeth like pearls, shinin’ like the moon above
Brownsville girl, show me all around the world
Brownsville girl, you’re my only girl

Well, we crossed the panhandle, and then we headed towards Amarillo. We pulled up where Henry Porter used to live. He owned a wreckin’ lot outside-a town about a mile. Ruby was in the backyard hangin’ clothes. She had her red hair tied back. She saw us come rolling up in trail of dust. She said, Henry ain’t here, but you can come on in, he’ll be back in a little while. And she told us how times were tough, and about she was thinkin-a bummin a ride back to from where she started, but she’d change the subject every time money came up.
She said, Welcome to the land of the livin’ dead, but you could tell she was so broken-hearted. She said, Even the swap-meets around here are getting pretty corrupt.
How far you all goin’? Ruby asked us with a sigh.
We’re goin’ all the way, until the wheels fall off and burn. Till the sun peels the paint, and the seatcovers fade, and water moccasins die.
Ruby just smiled and said, Oh, you know, some they just never learn.
Something about that movie though, that I just can’t get it out of my head. But I can’t remember why I was in it, or what part I was supposed to play. All I remember about it is Gregory Peck and the way the people moved. And that a lot of them seemed to be looking my way.

Brownsville girl, with your Brownsville curls
Teeth like pearls, shinin’ like the moon above
Brownsville girl, show me all around the world
Brownsville girl, you’re my only girl

Well, they were lookin for somebody with a pompadour. I was crossin the street when shots rang out. I didn’t know whether to duck or to run, so I ran. We got him cornered in the churchyard, I heard somebody shout.
Well, you saw my picture in the Corpus Christi Tribune. Underneath it, it said, A Man with No Alibi. You went out on a limb to testify for me, you said I was with you. And when I saw you break down in front of the judge and cry real tears–it was the best acting I saw anybody do.
And I’ve always been the kind of person who doesn’t like to trespass, but sometimes you just find yourself over the line. Oh, if there’s an original thought out there, I could use it right now. You know, I feel pretty good, but that ain’t sayin’ much. I could feel a whole lot better, if you were just here by my side to show me how.
Well, I’m standing in line in the rain to see a movie starring Gregory Peck, yeah but you know it’s not the one that I had in mind. He’s got a new one out now, I don’t know what it’s about, but I’ll see him in anything, so I’ll stand in line.

Brownsville girl, with your Brownsville curls
Teeth like pearls, shinin’ like the moon above
Brownsville girl, show me all around the world
Brownsville girl, you’re my only girl

You know, it’s funny how things never turn out the way you had’em planned. The only thing we knew for sure about Henry Porter is that his name wasn’t Henry Porter. And you know there was somethin about you, baby, that I liked, that was always too good for this world. Just like you always said there was somethin about me you liked that I left in the French Quarter.
Strange how people who suffer together have stronger connections than people who are most content. I don’t have any regrets; they can talk about me plenty when I’m gone. (Oh, yeah?) You always said, People don’t do what they believe in–they just do what’s most convenient, then they repent. And I always said, Hang on to me, baby, and let’s hope that the roof stays on.
There was a movie I seen one time, I think I sat through it twice. I don’t remember who I was, or where I was bound. All I remember about it was that it starred Gregory Peck. He wore a gun and he was shot in the back. Seems like a long time ago, long before the stars were torn down.

Brownsville girl, with your Brownsville curls
Teeth like pearls, shinin’ like the moon above
Brownsville girl, show me all around the world
Brownsville girl, you’re my only girl

The text above is not mine; I just transcribed that from the MP3 so that I could attempt to add punctuation and paragraphing without anyone else’s ideas impinging upon my own. Obviously, wherever the line breaks are, it’s a song and it’s not written like that, but I think it makes good sense as prose my way. And it is one of my favourite sets of lyrics anywhere ever (lyrics as a opposed to songs, it doesn’t work too well as a piece of music, I don’t think). 50 points if you can name the author (not too hard, given the style?) Hell, 25 points just for reading through to the end. I can see why it’s not everyone’s favourite.

Even the swap-meet around here are getting pretty corrupt (gosh, I love this)
RR

May 18th, 2007

Victoriana

The world is shiny leafy green bird-ridden and nearly the holiday weekend. I’m at work now, and I work tomorrow, but then I get taken to my favourite beachfront Lake Erie restaurant in the official kickoff to pre-birthday festivities, for both myself and Ms. Victoria. Yay! And the mailbox contained “Awake is the New Sleep” by Ben Lee this morning. And it was as catchy as the title indicates, despite the fact that Mr. Lee seems to thank his guru in the liner notes.

And in the valley today, it was an avian rainbow, with a cardinal, a Baltimore Oriole, too many robins to count and a pair of decidedly loved-up finches. Such brilliance as I trotted along. I think I’m starting to come up to speed for the summer months, although also this morning I baked bread and ate rather a lot of it, which isn’t helping my training. It’s funny, with running or writing or speaking or thinking, I’m never really sure how I’m doing, but when I bake good bread, I know it’s good. I can be absolutely positive, even if other people don’t want to eat any. This morning’s batch? Best ever. In my humble opinion.

The head can be a prison / And these are just conjugal visits

RR

May 14th, 2007

Maternality

I had occasion to hear my own singing voice this weekend, which is pretty rare. Normally I won’t sing unless the radio, karaeoke machine, or other voices are loud enough to drown me out. Friday night, however, I was babysitting for the divine Miss M., and she was sort of flipping out. Literally, actually–apparently she likes to flip back and forth in her crib to tire herself out at bedtime, but I didn’t know that and thought it meant she was angry. So I pinned her in my lap and sang, in my offkey warble, what I could remember of the good old multiverse lullabies. Sadly, I was only able to remember up until “cow” for “When I First Came to This Land” and only up to the band of angels for “Sweet Chariot.” And yet Miss M. was a wonderfully receptive audience, considering that she was a cranky baby, and I am a tuneless singer. Her head actually started to go heavy on my chest at one point, but when I tried to look to see if her eyes were closed, of course I woke her. Argh. Eventually I put her back in her crib and she fell asleep on her own.

A fun way to kick off the weekend of maternality, especially for one as unmaternal as myself. Those were, after all, the songs my mominator used to sing to me. In return, I made my mom some brunch (my dad, too). The food turned out pretty good, I think, but the housekeeping standards around my place have gotten pretty lax. I allocated only an hour pre-brunch to clean and, wouldn’t you know it, the phone rang just as I was contemplating getting out the mop. I only just managed to absorb the phone call and get food on the table. The nice thing about my mom is that she will always insist that she doesn’t notice any flaws in my person, personality or property, but after they left, I realized there were toothpaste spatters on the bathroom mirror. I’m pretty sure she noticed. But probably didn’t judge. Moms are nice. Really, it’d probably be only her and Miss M. who would ever enjoy my singing.

It was a band of angels / comin’ after me / Comin’ for to carry me home
RR