Categories
serious business

New Snow: the maligning of a sacred song

 

The Director began singing “Dingle Bells” upon seeing new snow this morning. When I corrected her she said, “I know but ‘Ding Ding’ go the bells.”

Categories
road scholar

Fragments of the world, cowboy edition

banjo

“Gonna need to stop for a squirt of gas,” I said, sheepish.

Gas was more expensive than in the US and for me, every centime counted.  In my emails to Banjoman, Fritolay and Genome Project, my riders for that Tuesday morning, I harped on like I always did, no matter if someone was a repeat offender of mine or someone totally new: “NO Canadian money.  It’s $40 US only, which you can get at the ATM when we stop for gas in Vermont.”

You never knew which fragment of the world would be showing up for a lift, and more importantly what currency they’d try to pin on you.

But there I was stopping for gas in Montreal, and I could really use some capital input.  I turned to Banjoman.  His lips were red and supple.  I wondered if he wore kilts in his spare time.

Categories
montreal

All the Banjos of Canada

In which I posit that Canada is a special repository of Banjo players and why Steve Martin should set up camp here, pronto.  The movement fluxes and farts.

But this latest pop up of banjos in modern recordings promulgated by Kate McGarrigle and her kids using her playing of banjos (and other pluckers) in their recordings. Some videos below.

Sean Lennon is a personal friend of Rufus Wainwright, which is why I include the OWS video.

But Feist makes use of el banjo-o in some of her songs too.

click for more

Categories
montreal

A Day in the Life, Starving Artist edition

Ouvert

We just came back from a trip to Montreal where we had yet another meeting with more creative types who are doing things we want to be doing.  It was kind of fruitful but not in the way we’d hoped.  Prospects of money in the future, peut etre, but nothing put into our pockets that day.  Sometimes the life of a starving artist involves something beautiful and smokey, and sometimes it’s just a conversation.

I don’t know what it is about Montreal and creative life but the door is definitely not opening to us.  I find this weird because the Director had the life but had to step back due to …needing to do drugs with other delinquents in order to do business.  Now a new crew’s in town and they’re more into the perfect cup of coffee than snorting something which is great, but the Director does not know these younger people.  And creatives is still all about who you know in addition to what you can do.

So after the meeting we did what we always do.

Categories
reading

Evening Readin glist

What to read next

My brother’s speech pattern involved attaching a G to a word beginning with L.  So that if the sentence were thus: “I love you” it would come out as “I glove you.”  His dog Lulu was funny enough without the nickname of GluGlu.

All of which means that this evenin’s reading glist is dedicated to him.

Genomes and Ethiopia:

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2012/06/120621130645.htm

Adrian McKinty’s latest tome:

http://adrianmckinty.blogspot.com.au/p/in-morning-ill-be-gone.html

Ha ha a bra and kitchen sink: what is sexiness

http://jezebel.com/what-is-sexy-exactly-absolutely-anything-1446619602

 

Categories
reminds me of my dog

Chive talkin

image of chives and brown leaves
Really, I cannot be bothered.

 

It was during our days of hunger when I walked, solo, past Victor. “I heard about your dog,” he said. “I loved that guy. I’m sorry.” He and his wife were planting more stuff in their front yard.

They were always doing something in that yard.

Categories
serious business

Evening Reading List

Tonight’s reading list if I can take a break from my electronic version of farm work.

Trying this to encourage myself not to read first thing in the morning when I am at my most productive, most candy corniest.

 

http://arstechnica.com/science/2013/10/for-shame-trolls-defeat-scientific-american-popular-science/

http://www.salon.com/2013/10/13/ted_talks_are_lying_to_you/

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2013/oct/14/independent-epitaph-establishment-journalism

http://adrianmckinty.blogspot.ca/p/sirens.html

Categories
reminds me of my dog

Thanks, Canadia

 

It’s well past summer.  The leaves blinged red and orange and gold and are now curled up masses the color of paper bags on the ground.  Or so I heard.

I missed the seasons by not having a dog to walk.

Instead I was looking through the window outside whenever I wasn’t staring at another screen.

The sun’s setting earlier now.  The gnarled scrubby pines pretending I don’t see them, as though someone yelled out Freeze in a game of Tag.

In Canadia, I saw things thanks to my dog.  There’s a common saying around here:

entre chien et lou.

For that time between – when the sun is setting and the night is pushing its way through.  It’s half empty and half full, the glass.  Between a dog and wolf.  Thanks Canada.

Categories
serious business

Rejected jokes

Rejected jokes / joke by a drive-by employer.

(I thought it should be kept in preserves.  Kept preserved.  Preserved in jelly.  An aspect of jelly.  Aspic.)

image of mechanic smoking a cigarette

Honk if you love Jesus…Jesus Henderson, we mean!   Our Employee of the Month offers salvation to your car’s transmission.  You can find him underneath various hoods on weekdays…and underneath various barstools some evenings.

 

Categories
food (if marginally) road scholar

Buying Bread in Braunschweig

brot

How hard could it be buying bread at a bakery?

My rideshare dropped me off in the city centre of Braunschweig, West Germany. It was 1987.

Eva said this driver’s exchange service was the cheapest way to get to see Andrea, our mutual friend, though it was a good chance that the driver would not speak English.  I was ok with this, though it seemed weird that strangers would offer to drive strangers in their car.

A few days earlier, I had met up with Eva from the train from Amsterdam, gotten lost despite her pitch-perfect instructions, but yet still ended up meeting her in Frankfurt.  She was waiting at the station, cigarette in mouth, hands on hips.  She had lost weight since I last saw her, but then again so had I.

We had a beer at the bar in the station, me forty minutes in Germany, and I pounded the bar like the guy next to me had done and I also ordered, “Ein alt, bitte.”  I imitated the way he did it, using the only talent I had, mimicry, for good.