Oh my god, everything sucks. Not really; it's pretty much limited to first-world problems around here, but morale is low. And what boosts morale faster than transcribing the lyrics of popular music? Transcribing the lyrics of angry popular music (note to anyone baffled by the above: I occasionally enjoy writing down the lyrics of a song I like while I listen to it. It forces me to really examine each word; a song that I still love after I've done this is lyrically unimpeachable).
I started with Destoyer, but in the end I didn't want to post the whole song because when you *do* think a lot about the lyrics, some of them sound pretty psychotic. So I'll just post the best verse, and suggest that you watch the video above and not overthink the lyrics, because it's pretty catchy, and also I used to live next door to where the video was filmed.
And arrows are pointed
And the archers delighted
Oh the thrill oh the smell
The shit I've been put through
Let angels to no one [I think I have that line wrong, but the principles of the game preclude looking it up]
Well I hate you and your blood
So don't make a goddamn sound
Well I'm comin' well I'm comin'
To your town
I ended up doing The Stills' "In the Beginning" which is vaguer but still wrathful. Also, I can't find a good video for this, but you can hear it off their CBC3 page.
This story ends in bloodshed
The face I love
The city I'm from
Well the persons I've met
The persons I've let down
But our hero never turns around
It's nice to see you're moving on
I know hard to carry on
And it's just never what it was
Oh in the beginning
In! the beginning!
And how did this start
And when did we begin
In a ball of fire and stars and soot [I think I have that line wrong]
And that brings me here now
Well my heart's caving in
A tornado whips it round the poles
And it's --rainin'
Oh!
It's nice to see you're movin' on
I know it's hard to carry on
And it's never what it was
Was in the beginning
Well in! the beginning!
[bridge]
In a ball of fire
In a ball of fire
[do do do do do]
In a ball of...
[do do do do do]
Anyway, in case you didn't pick it up, I totally love The Stills, and I feel their stoic deadpan guitar-fuelled rage is exactly in keeping with my own. Hope this has been a good pitch for them--you don't even have to listen to their music exclusively when you're angry!
RR
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
It's come to my attention...
That some young Canadian musicians took K'naan's Waving Flag song, possibly the most perfect song to play on the radio in a good while, and made a slightly less good version to benefit victims of the earthquake in Haiti. I thought this idea was genius when I first heard about it, because it's such a great song about personal empowerment and strength, but a little hazy on the details so it could conceivably work for lots of things (full disclosure: I don't know what it was originally about). They added some specifics anyway ("out of the darkness / in came the carnage"--oh, dear) and a rap bridge (yikes) but it is kind of cool to hear all those voices rising together at the end. So I recommend you buy the less good version, because it's a good cause and a song that you really can't wreck. It's sort of a superhero song, so maybe it can really do a lot of good for Haiti--look what it did for soccor.
That Rover Arts posted a nice review of the Journey Anthology 21.
That Bonjour Brioche in Leslieville is wonderful. Crowded on the weekends, but seriously, any carb in the place is probably gold. And waitress sometimes talk to each other in French.
RR
That Rover Arts posted a nice review of the Journey Anthology 21.
That Bonjour Brioche in Leslieville is wonderful. Crowded on the weekends, but seriously, any carb in the place is probably gold. And waitress sometimes talk to each other in French.
RR
Monday, March 8, 2010
That's what I like
The song with my favourite lyrics ever turns out to be cowritten by Sam Shepard, which of course does not make it any better, but does sort of up the interest factor in Shepard for me. I've only read the occasional New Yorker story by him--does anyone want to recommend what play to start with?
Sunshine on tulips! The ones on my dining-room table look like this and are absolutely splendid.
The weather this week! Yesterday was perfect wandering around weather and I hope that's what you did. And now, we don't have to panic, because the rest of the week will be nice, too. But then next weekend, it's supposed to be 5 or 6 degrees and snowy, which makes no sense. But we have five glorious days until then.
Taco King at Danforth and Donlands. I'm linking to a largely negative post because it's all I can find--but most of those people didn't eat there, just looked at the pictures through the window. I think it's great--cheap fast Mexican food that does not come out of a box, bag, or tube (ie., no cheese of the whiz variety). After a lovely delivery experience (embarrassingly, me and my dining companion ordered so much they gave us three forks--we thought at those prices the portions would be small but they weren't) I went on Saturday to see the establishment. They grill the chicken in front of you and apparently the tortillas are homemade, and everything's a wicked good deal. Let's not let prejudice taint a good thing--just because the owners and some of the staff are Asian, doesn't mean they haven't learned to do Mexican food extremely well! I'm scared it will close because so many restaurants in that area do, and I'll be back to Moe's Southwestern, which is actually good too, but I'd rather have local indy than big American chain if I can.
RR
Sunshine on tulips! The ones on my dining-room table look like this and are absolutely splendid.
The weather this week! Yesterday was perfect wandering around weather and I hope that's what you did. And now, we don't have to panic, because the rest of the week will be nice, too. But then next weekend, it's supposed to be 5 or 6 degrees and snowy, which makes no sense. But we have five glorious days until then.
Taco King at Danforth and Donlands. I'm linking to a largely negative post because it's all I can find--but most of those people didn't eat there, just looked at the pictures through the window. I think it's great--cheap fast Mexican food that does not come out of a box, bag, or tube (ie., no cheese of the whiz variety). After a lovely delivery experience (embarrassingly, me and my dining companion ordered so much they gave us three forks--we thought at those prices the portions would be small but they weren't) I went on Saturday to see the establishment. They grill the chicken in front of you and apparently the tortillas are homemade, and everything's a wicked good deal. Let's not let prejudice taint a good thing--just because the owners and some of the staff are Asian, doesn't mean they haven't learned to do Mexican food extremely well! I'm scared it will close because so many restaurants in that area do, and I'll be back to Moe's Southwestern, which is actually good too, but I'd rather have local indy than big American chain if I can.
RR
Friday, January 22, 2010
Bits
I have no major theme or connective tissue for today, just a little things I've been thinking of and would like to share with you. Please do not attempt to take them as a whole; they certainly do not come to more than the sum of their parts. I'll try to visually separate everything on the page for you.
--------------------
I like rules. Maybe more than a so-called creative person should or is expected to, I enjoy being told what to do. I gleefully tell potential employers that I take direction well, and I really mean it. My friend P calls this my desire to "outsource my thinking," and she's spot-on--I appreciate it when someone will bother to form a plan or opinion where I have none--saves me the trouble, and provides the illusion of an ordered universe. Obvious, this won't work well with things that matter a lot to me (ie., my writing, my clothes, what I'm going to eat), but I am really appreciative of advice (or imperitives) on such low-stakes issues as where to put the butter dish, when to send thank-you notes, and where I may wear my hat.
Yep, I'm an etiquette junky. When I was a tiny, I somehow picked up the Emily Post Book of Etiquette a great aunt had given my mother for high-school graduation (in a much much different edition than pictured here). And I've been a lifelong devote to her newspaper columns, and now the family (there's dozens of'em) have a website. Lately, when I've been feeling blue or harried or as if the world just weren't up to the white glove test, I've been turning to the Post family's Etiquette Daily blog, and it's been making me feel better. I thought I'd share my story, and the link, in case it might make you feel better, too.
--------------------
Kerry Clare wrote this amazing post I think you should read, called Escape the Ego. Don't be alarmed by the fact that it seems to be about a book called Eat Pray Love--I'm not sure what that is either, but I'm wary enough of the title that I'm not going to Google you a link (sorry!). Anyway, the post isn't really about that book--it's about why we read, and write, and what happens when we do. And it contains this beautiful paragraph:
"...I read, I think, to break it down and enable me to see the world in miniature, as manageable. Which, however conversely, is to be able to look at the big picture and regard it all at once, perhaps for the very first time. Fiction is a study in the hypothetical, a test-run for the actual. An experiment. What if the world was this? And we can watch the wheels turn and this bit of sample life run its course to discover. And I don't mean that literature is smaller than life, no. Literature is life, but it's just life you can hold in your hand, stick in your backpack, and I'm reassured by that, because the world is messy and sprawling, but if you take it down to the level of story, I am capable of some kind of grasp. Of beginning to understand what this world is, how to be in it."
To which I say, yes. Also, wow.
--------------------
Paul Quarrington has died, another hard blow in a rough week for CanLit. I hadn't, in truth, read much of Quarrington's work, but I was a big fan of his live performances--a great reader, a great speaker, a surprising good singer (I saw his band, The Pork Belly Futures play in Winnipeg because I was all alone and it was either that or stare at my hotel-room wall--and they were brilliant!!) He had a wonderful big warm presence, and an off-the-cuff joy in performing. I actually went to so many Quarrington events, and just ran into him randomly at so many litsy things, that he started smiling and saying hi to me, even though he had no idea who I was. I was in the process of working up the nerve to introduce myself, and now I am not going to get to do it. Which is sad. But I will be reading the books.
------------------
And so ends another miscellaneous week. Hope this finds you well!
RR
--------------------
I like rules. Maybe more than a so-called creative person should or is expected to, I enjoy being told what to do. I gleefully tell potential employers that I take direction well, and I really mean it. My friend P calls this my desire to "outsource my thinking," and she's spot-on--I appreciate it when someone will bother to form a plan or opinion where I have none--saves me the trouble, and provides the illusion of an ordered universe. Obvious, this won't work well with things that matter a lot to me (ie., my writing, my clothes, what I'm going to eat), but I am really appreciative of advice (or imperitives) on such low-stakes issues as where to put the butter dish, when to send thank-you notes, and where I may wear my hat.
Yep, I'm an etiquette junky. When I was a tiny, I somehow picked up the Emily Post Book of Etiquette a great aunt had given my mother for high-school graduation (in a much much different edition than pictured here). And I've been a lifelong devote to her newspaper columns, and now the family (there's dozens of'em) have a website. Lately, when I've been feeling blue or harried or as if the world just weren't up to the white glove test, I've been turning to the Post family's Etiquette Daily blog, and it's been making me feel better. I thought I'd share my story, and the link, in case it might make you feel better, too.
--------------------
Kerry Clare wrote this amazing post I think you should read, called Escape the Ego. Don't be alarmed by the fact that it seems to be about a book called Eat Pray Love--I'm not sure what that is either, but I'm wary enough of the title that I'm not going to Google you a link (sorry!). Anyway, the post isn't really about that book--it's about why we read, and write, and what happens when we do. And it contains this beautiful paragraph:
"...I read, I think, to break it down and enable me to see the world in miniature, as manageable. Which, however conversely, is to be able to look at the big picture and regard it all at once, perhaps for the very first time. Fiction is a study in the hypothetical, a test-run for the actual. An experiment. What if the world was this? And we can watch the wheels turn and this bit of sample life run its course to discover. And I don't mean that literature is smaller than life, no. Literature is life, but it's just life you can hold in your hand, stick in your backpack, and I'm reassured by that, because the world is messy and sprawling, but if you take it down to the level of story, I am capable of some kind of grasp. Of beginning to understand what this world is, how to be in it."
To which I say, yes. Also, wow.
--------------------
Paul Quarrington has died, another hard blow in a rough week for CanLit. I hadn't, in truth, read much of Quarrington's work, but I was a big fan of his live performances--a great reader, a great speaker, a surprising good singer (I saw his band, The Pork Belly Futures play in Winnipeg because I was all alone and it was either that or stare at my hotel-room wall--and they were brilliant!!) He had a wonderful big warm presence, and an off-the-cuff joy in performing. I actually went to so many Quarrington events, and just ran into him randomly at so many litsy things, that he started smiling and saying hi to me, even though he had no idea who I was. I was in the process of working up the nerve to introduce myself, and now I am not going to get to do it. Which is sad. But I will be reading the books.
------------------
And so ends another miscellaneous week. Hope this finds you well!
RR
Tuesday, December 15, 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.
Monday, November 23, 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
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
Tuesday, November 17, 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
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
Saturday, October 24, 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
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
Thursday, October 22, 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
--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
Saturday, October 3, 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
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
Tuesday, September 29, 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
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
Tuesday, September 1, 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
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
Saturday, July 25, 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.
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.
Tuesday, June 2, 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
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
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Genki days
If there's one thing these two weeks in Japan have taught me, it's that even the few words of vocab in Japanese I have learnt may not actually be valid in context. Be that as it may, I am pretty sure "genki" means merry and happy and fun, and the past few days of celebrating my birthday (what, I'm celebrating all month, right? I mean, how often does one turn 31?) have definitely been that. Starting the morning of the 23rd (I was born at dawn, but not in this time zone) in pictures:
We leave at dawn for the Tskuiji fish market. The only time during my trip that I have worn eye-makeup. Just seemed appropriate.
The outside of the market. Very intimidating, but very exciting.
Fishmongers and longshorefolk ride through the market on these little motorized carts. They move fast, they are loaded with fish and ice that has to be somewhere pronto there are nolanes or laws that they subscribe to, and they hate tourists.
Beautiful fish (there are a dozen similar pics, on Facebook because of the upload problem and because not everyone finds fish as poetic as I do.)
Tuna butchery.
Delightful sushi breakfast. As it turned out, I was not at all weirded out by eating raw fish and wasabi at 9am. Very happy to, in fact.
Birthday monorail (to Odaiba).
MeSci--the Museum of Emerging Science (it was great, but all my interior photos such; perhaps I can sum of the experience with "robot-POV simulation").
Odaiba beach frolic. I love being 31.
Cake buffet. Cake on one's birthday is very important.
Eating cake for supper. Life as it should be.
On to the 24th. Ben and his friend Ichiro, and a whole lot of other people, at the Tokyo Dome to cheer on the Giants (down with the Kobe Buffaloes, although they did in fact win in the end).
Gosh, the fans were amazing and intense. They sang the "hip-hooray" song for the final half hour of the game. Intense and tuneful. I sang too--it wasn't that hard to learn. You just sub in each player's name as the line-up bats. In fact, it works with my name too: "Hip-hooray, hip-hooray, hey Rebecca, hip-hooray." We sang that so many times I though I felt my teeth start to realign around the words. Probably not really though.
More singing. Ben and his friends Yuka (left) and Miu sing "Ring of Fire" in a kareoke box.
So ends this installment of pictures, although I fully intend to keep celebrating the birthday until the end of May, or possibly all year. Thanks to all who sent greetings--and if you sent me a card before I left Canada, please know that it is here with me in the small birthday shrine I have built in my room. Man, I love birthdays!!
Hip-hooray
RR
We leave at dawn for the Tskuiji fish market. The only time during my trip that I have worn eye-makeup. Just seemed appropriate.
The outside of the market. Very intimidating, but very exciting.
Fishmongers and longshorefolk ride through the market on these little motorized carts. They move fast, they are loaded with fish and ice that has to be somewhere pronto there are nolanes or laws that they subscribe to, and they hate tourists.
Beautiful fish (there are a dozen similar pics, on Facebook because of the upload problem and because not everyone finds fish as poetic as I do.)
Tuna butchery.
Delightful sushi breakfast. As it turned out, I was not at all weirded out by eating raw fish and wasabi at 9am. Very happy to, in fact.
Birthday monorail (to Odaiba).
MeSci--the Museum of Emerging Science (it was great, but all my interior photos such; perhaps I can sum of the experience with "robot-POV simulation").
Odaiba beach frolic. I love being 31.
Cake buffet. Cake on one's birthday is very important.
Eating cake for supper. Life as it should be.
On to the 24th. Ben and his friend Ichiro, and a whole lot of other people, at the Tokyo Dome to cheer on the Giants (down with the Kobe Buffaloes, although they did in fact win in the end).
Gosh, the fans were amazing and intense. They sang the "hip-hooray" song for the final half hour of the game. Intense and tuneful. I sang too--it wasn't that hard to learn. You just sub in each player's name as the line-up bats. In fact, it works with my name too: "Hip-hooray, hip-hooray, hey Rebecca, hip-hooray." We sang that so many times I though I felt my teeth start to realign around the words. Probably not really though.
More singing. Ben and his friends Yuka (left) and Miu sing "Ring of Fire" in a kareoke box.So ends this installment of pictures, although I fully intend to keep celebrating the birthday until the end of May, or possibly all year. Thanks to all who sent greetings--and if you sent me a card before I left Canada, please know that it is here with me in the small birthday shrine I have built in my room. Man, I love birthdays!!
Hip-hooray
RR
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Classics in a narrow category
This morning in the shower, I firmly decided that MTA by the Kingston Trio is the best song ever written about public transit (and that was before I realized there was extant video footage of a performance, or of anything that happened in 1959, which only makes it better).
But then I wondered, who exactly are they beating out? *Are* there other public transit songs? Many about planes, that one about the submarine, but subways and intracity buses? Streetcars?
I came up with the bit about the crosstown bus (double decker!) in the Beatles' "A Day in the Life" and of course The Weakerthans "A Civil Twilight but...is there anything else? There must be!
Play this silly game with me, even if only in sympathy that I have nothing better to think about in the shower in the pre-dawn hours!
Why I'm always remembering you
RR
But then I wondered, who exactly are they beating out? *Are* there other public transit songs? Many about planes, that one about the submarine, but subways and intracity buses? Streetcars?
I came up with the bit about the crosstown bus (double decker!) in the Beatles' "A Day in the Life" and of course The Weakerthans "A Civil Twilight but...is there anything else? There must be!
Play this silly game with me, even if only in sympathy that I have nothing better to think about in the shower in the pre-dawn hours!
Why I'm always remembering you
RR
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Sometimes
Sometimes, I become so upset at my teetering stacks of books and papers (commented one recent guest, "You're busy!" me: "Or should be!"), email queue and general failure of productivity, that I resolve to scale back on all frolic, forthwith. Which is of course the signal for an eruption of amazing frolicking opportunities amongst my friends and acquaintances. Thus, last night spent on the announcement of the Descant Winston/Collins poetry prize (congrats to all the long- and short-listers, and to Descant for the amazing bash) and later on guitar harmonies and silliness (I sure know the words to a lot of bad songs). And then today, between the yoga and the photo shoot and writing this very important blog post, I had amazing things planned, workwise...which didn't quite happen. And in a few hours, I have to go out for Mexican food!! How do these things happen?
Something, obviously, has to scale back. Don't worry, it probably won't be this blog; does a junkie ever get too busy to shoot up? I fear it's sleep.
Wake up
The house is on fire
And the cat's caught in the drier
RR
Something, obviously, has to scale back. Don't worry, it probably won't be this blog; does a junkie ever get too busy to shoot up? I fear it's sleep.
Wake up
The house is on fire
And the cat's caught in the drier
RR
Friday, January 23, 2009
Recs
Yes Man is a B-minus movie, but for some reason the music in the film is A++. The actual soundtrack album of the music that plays in the background of the film includes *nine* Eels songs, (including very annoyingly, *one* I don't have). In addition, there's tonnes of diagetic music that is way more fun to watch/listen to than the rest of the film. Go fig. But PS--are we offended that there is a band out there called Munchausen By Proxy? I think I am. If a band was named "Child Abuse," that wouldn't go over too well, and how is this any different? Their songs are so darn neat, though.
Desk Space is always awesome, but as a literary voyeur herself, Julie Wilson, gives particularly good desk-details.
You wouldn't think I'd like a blog called Brazen Careerist. In fact, I almost never care about the actual advice being offered, but the woman who writes it, Penelope Trunk, is a very good writer, very funny and generous and *fascinating* on the topic of her own life history, and also quite possibly the woman least like me on the planet. I *love* reading her blog.
I'm going to stop pretending I didn't break your heart
RR
Desk Space is always awesome, but as a literary voyeur herself, Julie Wilson, gives particularly good desk-details.
You wouldn't think I'd like a blog called Brazen Careerist. In fact, I almost never care about the actual advice being offered, but the woman who writes it, Penelope Trunk, is a very good writer, very funny and generous and *fascinating* on the topic of her own life history, and also quite possibly the woman least like me on the planet. I *love* reading her blog.
I'm going to stop pretending I didn't break your heart
RR
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
The Merriest
This has been my standard Christmas wish for some years, but it does still very much apply, and hell, it's worked for June Christy since 1961.
I'd like to fix this bag of tricks
And hand'em out with a fleeting greeting:
Smiles for the frowners
Saluts to the uppers
Boosts for the downers
May the day be the bowl-of-cherriest,
And to all, the merriest.
Hope you swing during the season
Hope the days go great
Hope you find plenty of reasons
The whole year long to celebrate.
Sun for the mopers
A laugh for the criers
Luck for the hopers
To the strange and the ordinariest
Me to you, the merriest!
Thoughts for the musers
A cheer for the winners
Breaks for the losers
To the beats and the debonairiest
Greetings like the merriest!
Hope there's oil under your rose vine
Hope you get that raise
Hope you hope everything goes fine
The next three hundred and some-odd days!
Friends for the loners
Songs for the singers
Grins for the groaners
Make the day nothing-can-compariest
At the most, the merriest!
RR
I'd like to fix this bag of tricks
And hand'em out with a fleeting greeting:
Smiles for the frowners
Saluts to the uppers
Boosts for the downers
May the day be the bowl-of-cherriest,
And to all, the merriest.
Hope you swing during the season
Hope the days go great
Hope you find plenty of reasons
The whole year long to celebrate.
Sun for the mopers
A laugh for the criers
Luck for the hopers
To the strange and the ordinariest
Me to you, the merriest!
Thoughts for the musers
A cheer for the winners
Breaks for the losers
To the beats and the debonairiest
Greetings like the merriest!
Hope there's oil under your rose vine
Hope you get that raise
Hope you hope everything goes fine
The next three hundred and some-odd days!
Friends for the loners
Songs for the singers
Grins for the groaners
Make the day nothing-can-compariest
At the most, the merriest!
RR
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Admirable Words (II)
I wanna take a streetcar downtown
Read Dostoyevsky* and wander around
Drink some Guinness from a tin
Because my UI cheque has just come in.
Aw, where you been?
Because
Everything is coming up
Rosy & grey.
Yeah, the wind is cold but
The smell of snow
Warms me today
And your smile is fine
And it's just like mine
And it won't go away
Because everything is rosy & grey.
You've been under my skin for more than 8 years
It's been 8 years of laughter and 8 years of tears.
And I dunno what the future could hold or will do
For me and you
But I'm a much better man for having known you.
Yeah, you know that's true.
Because
Everything is coming up
Rosy & grey.
Yeah, the wind is cold but
The smell of snow
Warms me today
And your smile is fine
And it's just like mine
And it won't go away
Because everything is rosy & grey.
Well, I've been told that there's a sucker born every day.
Well, I wonder who, and I wonder who.
Maybe the one who doesn't realize there's a thousand shades of grey.
'Cause I know that's true, yes I do, yeah, I know it's true.
Yeah, I know it's true, how 'bout you?
They've been pickin' up trash and they're puttin' down roads
They're brokering stocks
The class struggle explodes
And I play this guitar just the best that I can
Yeah, maybe I'm not and maybe I am.
Aw, who gives a damn?
Because
Everything is coming up
Rosy & grey.
Yeah, the wind is cold but
The smell of snow
Warms me today
And your smile is fine
And it's just like mine
And it won't go away
Because everything is rosy & grey.
Well, I've kissed you in France and I've kissed you in Spain
(harmonica)
And I've kissed you in places I'd better not name
(harmonica)
And I've seen the sun go down on Sacre Coeur
(harmonica)
But I like it much better goin' down on you.
Yeah, you know that's true.
Because
Everything is coming up
Rosy & grey.
Yeah, the wind is cold but
The smell of snow
Warms me today
And your smile is fine
And it's just like mine
And it won't go away
Because everything is rosy & grey.
Yeah, rosy & grey!
--"Rosy & Grey" by The Lowest of the Low
*This is from the concert album, *Nothing Short of a Bullet.* On the studio album, *Shakespeare My Butt*, it's Henry Miller. Take your pick.
Read Dostoyevsky* and wander around
Drink some Guinness from a tin
Because my UI cheque has just come in.
Aw, where you been?
Because
Everything is coming up
Rosy & grey.
Yeah, the wind is cold but
The smell of snow
Warms me today
And your smile is fine
And it's just like mine
And it won't go away
Because everything is rosy & grey.
You've been under my skin for more than 8 years
It's been 8 years of laughter and 8 years of tears.
And I dunno what the future could hold or will do
For me and you
But I'm a much better man for having known you.
Yeah, you know that's true.
Because
Everything is coming up
Rosy & grey.
Yeah, the wind is cold but
The smell of snow
Warms me today
And your smile is fine
And it's just like mine
And it won't go away
Because everything is rosy & grey.
Well, I've been told that there's a sucker born every day.
Well, I wonder who, and I wonder who.
Maybe the one who doesn't realize there's a thousand shades of grey.
'Cause I know that's true, yes I do, yeah, I know it's true.
Yeah, I know it's true, how 'bout you?
They've been pickin' up trash and they're puttin' down roads
They're brokering stocks
The class struggle explodes
And I play this guitar just the best that I can
Yeah, maybe I'm not and maybe I am.
Aw, who gives a damn?
Because
Everything is coming up
Rosy & grey.
Yeah, the wind is cold but
The smell of snow
Warms me today
And your smile is fine
And it's just like mine
And it won't go away
Because everything is rosy & grey.
Well, I've kissed you in France and I've kissed you in Spain
(harmonica)
And I've kissed you in places I'd better not name
(harmonica)
And I've seen the sun go down on Sacre Coeur
(harmonica)
But I like it much better goin' down on you.
Yeah, you know that's true.
Because
Everything is coming up
Rosy & grey.
Yeah, the wind is cold but
The smell of snow
Warms me today
And your smile is fine
And it's just like mine
And it won't go away
Because everything is rosy & grey.
Yeah, rosy & grey!
--"Rosy & Grey" by The Lowest of the Low
*This is from the concert album, *Nothing Short of a Bullet.* On the studio album, *Shakespeare My Butt*, it's Henry Miller. Take your pick.
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