dotinthesky | Entries tagged with of montreal

Stephin Merritt, Obscurities, September 2011
I'm glad the Magnetic Fields weren't around when I was a teenager; they may have done permanent damage to my self otherwise. I came to them pretty late, at the start of 2001, via one of their most famous songs, 100,000 Fireflies. His songs feel to me like good American short stories, full of humour and pathos. He apparently likes writing them in gay bars, often creating paeans to the men in his life he loved and lost.

Yesterday, I got in my head that I should find some 6ths music on iTunes (one of Stephin Merritt's side projects) when I stumbled upon this new release of B-sides and little known tracks. I was completely surprised to find that Rats in the Garbage of the Western World is a Magnetic Fields song. In the 90s I used to tape record a radio show every Wednesday night in Montreal called Solo For Two Voices, broadcast by students in McGill University. The presenters were frequently stoned and hardly ever told listeners what they were playing. I have so many much loved songs from that period whose authorship are waiting to be discovered, and this was one of them. Listening to it again reminds me of walking through Montreal's snowdrifts on freezing days, a rucksack with university books on my back, heading to my solitary semi basement flat or a café to meet friends and chain smoke the day away.

So I went and bought the whole compilation last night just on the strength of that track. But who cares? It's Stephen Merritt - of course the whole thing is good.

Current Mood: nostalgic
Current Location: Mile End, London
Current Music: The Magnetic Fields - When I'm Not Looking, You're Not There | Powered by Last.fm

Sissy A is trying to convince

wink_martindale and I to move to Toulouse. She's on her way there this month, to join her boyfriend and work long distance for an architecture company in Montreal. Rent for a two-person flat is around 500 euros. Jobs for those who speak cranky French but fluent English are available. But I could also just take out a loan and be a student for a year; learn French really well for an eventual job; wash some dishes... so tempting. No temping.

I go back and forth on this idea of doing a MA in Portuguese Studies here in London. Really, what kind of job am I guaranteed afterwards? Will I have to return to admin and bite the bullet until my loans are paid off? Or would I do well enough to become a researcher, or perhaps work for a Brasilian organisation? I know I should just take a deep breath and be courageous but I keep remembering the years after I graduated from university and my History and English Lit degree's mystifying quality.

Only one more week left at work. Since the snow, Regent's Canal has been all mine. Thank God I haven't slipped and broken anything! I love walking down it at night, past the barges that line the canal by Victoria Park, their engines running and the air smelling of burnt wood. That's what I'll miss the most when I (most likely) return to commuting downtown.

Current Mood: confused
Current Location: Mile End, London
Current Music: M83 - Skin Of The Night | Powered by Last.fm

Big Ben during EH Benjamin Ealovega_MG_64
Originally uploaded by Earth Hour Global

Since Kevin and I were staying home last night, I suggested we switch off everything for Earth Hour. I wanted to see what we would do for an hour without TV, computers or music; and I wanted to see what London looked like from our eleventh floor windows (I was hoping/assuming that many lights would go out.)

London didn't look that much different. Some of the buildings in Canary Wharf were dark, apart from the airplane warning lights on their roofs. Big Ben and the House of Parliament are beyond our field of vision so we couldn't enjoy their switch off. I had no idea the BT tower was participating so I forgot to check.

We stayed in the bedroom for most of the time, listening to a hand crank powered radio that Kevin got as a present from his father. Suzi Quatro's radio show on BBC2, where she interviewed one of Blondie's members and played classic rock. I was reminded of the ice storm that hit Montreal in 1998 and plunged the city into darkness for nearly a week. Nine months later, baby boom...

Current Mood: good
Current Location: Mile End, London
Current Music: Suede - He's Dead (live)

The Facts Behind the Helsinki Roccamatios, by Yann Martel

Yann Martel, The Facts Behind the Helsinki Roccamatios, 1993
This is a collection of four short stories (in large font, double-spaced, to make the book appear longer than it is) written by Martel before he became famous for his Booker-prize winning novel The Life of Pi. Four short stories that he got published and praised for when he was just starting out as a fiction writer - the kind of collection that fans of the writer might want to check out, but which isn't really an essential read for anyone else.

The first story, which takes the name of the collection, is the best one. It's about two friends who decide to deal with a virus (AIDS) that is killing one of them by playing a storytelling game. The last story, of a grandmother who knows how to build magical mirrors, is also quite good - I read it out loud to my boyfriend and had him in stitches. The other two were alright, but forgettable - one of them was a long structure gimmick that had no meaning; and the other floundered around in the telling of a musician's tale of anonimity and undiscovered genius (maybe how Martel felt about himself before he hit the big time.)

Current Mood: okay
Current Location: Mile End, London
Current Music: The Damned - Eloise

Leave a comment and I'll give you five topics to talk about in your journal.

sushidog gave me these:

Boys
BOYS! Summa-summa-time love, summa-summa-time love. Boys, boys, boys. What can I say, I started liking boys as soon as puberty hit. Unfortunately, I was part of a large group of boys that only liked girls. Then I fell in love with a singer who seemed to like boys but chose instead to be celibate for the rest of his life - it seemed at the time like a good idea. Then someone took me to a gay club in Montreal and my mouth hit the floor at the quantity of gorgeous men filling up the rooms. I never looked back. And now I have a boy of my own. We wander the streets of London and when a cute boy goes by we sigh: *boys*.

Incidentally, if you ever need to move your office, look no further than Ward Thomas Removals. Not only are they brilliantly efficient, their team is made up of all those hot Ozzies and Kiwis that come over to England for work experience and find their rugby muscles and friendly smiles appreciated and needed. Diamonds are a girl's best friend; boys are a boy's.

Being a long way from home
Is tough. When I returned from Brasil in January, I tried to convince Kevin that we should live at the farm with my mom and brothers. Kevin didn't like the idea but, with each passing day, he's warming up to it. The latest plan is for us to leave Britain for one year - a sort of sabbatical - and stay with my family. He could dedicate himself to his illustration and I could help with the running of the guesthouse and sort out my legal situation in Brasil, which is a mess right now. London is a sort of home, but so is Brasil. And my uncles and aunts are like parents, my cousins like siblings. Years are speeding away and I'm losing all that time I could be spending with them. They ask after Kevin - they know about us. With Kevin there with me, I'd be less afraid of growing bored from their sedate pace of life. I could write a million books from the comfort of our hammock.

Gossip
Every writer is a gossip. Every longterm LJ user is a gossip - we are here because we enjoy sharing stories about ourselves and others. The ones that don't like that sort of thing gave up their journals a long time ago. Asking after someone's well being is gossip. Hanging out with a friend will eventually lead to gossip. We learn from the world through gossip. We can't resist a good story, an enthralling cliffhanger - we seek that from those closest to us, and we take pleasure when we find it unexpectedly. Thousands of years ago, when we were still picking fleas from each others hair after a long day of hunting, we developed language through gossip (I'm sure of it). Something dramatic had to be informed (so-and-so wasn't hunting tigers as they should; they were swimming in the river) and thus gossip was born.

Cooking
I should do more of this. I eat too many ready-made soups and sandwiches. I've developed a bad habit of bringing kebab home on Thursdays (Kevin loves it.) But I'm a great cook - I've got the patience and attention to detail down to a tee. I make the best burek in the world. Doubtful? Come over and try for yourself (especially if you are a *boy*).

The environment
Depresses me. I look at my brother and friends who have children and I worry for all the problems they'll have to deal with - the diminishing natural resources (bound to cause wars), the exploding population, the way people don't give a shit about anything. My tower block's elevator is a testament to our species' impending destruction - all that garbage thrown on the floor each day says a lot about what the people here think of their "environment". When I'm feeling more positive, I remember science and all its recent giant leaps. I place my poker chips on them and hope that the nerd shall overcome.

Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Location: Mile End, London
Current Music: Morrissey - When Last I Spoke to Carol

What a miserable day! London couldn't look uglier, with its chilly drizzle and grey skies; everyone already looks pale and haggard, as if they've been enduring Winter for months. In a primary school's playground I saw two little boys get into a savage punch up. At work, I wanted to punch one of our freelance artists and throw him down the stairs. I took half of the day off but everything went wrong, everyone needed me, and I had to be the first rat to jump the office's ship for my own sanity's sake.

Ten years ago, on this day, I went to see the Cowboy Junkies play live in Montreal. There's one video on YouTube, from that same tour, but filmed in New York. I can't remember if they played this song at the gig, but I do know they were wonderful and, afterwards, they came to the foyer to meet their fans. (I was long gone by then.) Some friends came with me, others agreed to meet me afterwards at Cafe Sarajevo, where a gypsy band often played, the drinks were fairly affordable, and the nibbles were great.

That was the night I met Kevin. I'd invited his boyfriend at the time, Matthew, who was someone I had a lot of friends in common, to come along and bring whoever he wanted. I'd been told 6 months before by my friend Helen that Matthew had this boyfriend who "would be just perfect for you - it's a shame they are dating!" That was Kevin, and he sat all night beside me, laughed at my drunken jokes and generally made a great impression. Him and Matthew's relationship ended a few days later - for unconnected reasons.

I bought an EuroMillion Lottery ticket on the way home. 100 million pounds up for grab this Friday. I figured that this would be the one day I get all my numbers right... or wrong. Kevin gave me a copy of David Lynch's book Catching the Big Fish. I swallowed pills and took a bath listening to classical music an hour ago, with just one candle for company. Kevin is now home and is doing The Guardian's crosswords. There aren't enough lightbulbs in this flat; my eyesight feels tired.

I apologise for today.

P.s. Thank you again lovely

rag_and_bone for buying me a paid account on LJ! I promise not to terrorise (too much) your flist with my polls. :-)

Current Mood: blah
Current Location: Mile End, London
Current Music: Guillemots - And If All...

1. Reply to this post and I'll assign you a letter.
2. List 5 songs you like that start with that letter.
3. Post them to your journal with these instructions.

sarcaustick's choice was 'F', so in no particular order:

The Cure - Friday I'm in Love
Some people consider this single to be one of The Cure's weakest ones, but I still like it and never get bored of hearing it. The album 'Wish', where it comes from, reminds me of being 18 in Hong Kong, falling in love with my best friend (who adored The Cure), wearing baggy T-shirts with Robert Smith's face (I still have one of them, which I use as a pyjama top), having long hair and just generally being a clueless teenager.
Belly - Feed the Tree
I immediately fell in love with this song when I first heard it on Hong Kong's MTV channel. This is another track that reminds me of being in high school, sunny afternoons when we'd go to Repulse Bay Beach or Stanley Market after class, listening to my walkman on the bus ride home, watching the merchant ships circling Hong Kong island from my bedroom window. Belly were everything I wanted from America that didn't involve grunge. The song still sounds great today.
Gene - For the Dead
Gene were one of my favourite bands from the Britpop period. They ticked all the Morrissey-influence boxes, but they were mellower, less bitter than Le Moz. I wrote some dodgy poetry for a high school creative class based on one of their songs. I showed it to my girlfriend and her best friend and they claimed I was a great poet. Now I know they were just humoring me. When I moved to Montreal to attend university, they played a gig that was virtually empty. We sat at a table right by the stage and it felt as if the band were playing just for us. The drummer stared at me the whole night and gave me the creeps.
Visage - Fade to Grey
During my first year of university, I became friends with a group of Canadians who weren't too keen on Britpop. They preferred the B-52's, The Violent Femmes, Beastie Boys, and other music that had never floated past my orbit before. One weekend night, we discovered a club called Lezards, on Rue Saint-Denis, that played only new wave and old-style punk. The clientele were mostly older folk in 80s fashion, strung out on drugs, or queer alternative kids. It was heaven. I lost interest on Britpop and fell head-over-heels in love with the bleepy side of the 80s.
The Sugababes - Freak Like Me
During my first years in London, I listened to the radio a lot. I didn't know many people, and because Kevin worked at a comic book shop during the weekends, I'd sit in our kitchen logged into Livejournal, wasting my time on LJdrama.org until he came home from work. I remember hearing this song for the first time on Xfm and being completely blown away by its pop knowingness and perfection.

Current Mood: clogged
Current Location: Waterloo, London

I show you the streets of Montreal at night. All the shops on Rue St-Denis are closed and the sidewalks are empty. The second-floor windows, however, tell a different story: they are alive with the flickering shadows of people dancing; the music reaches us. We walk north, towards the Plateau.

You tell me you don't want to go to Club Bitch in your outfit. I show you a side street, with stores that sell slightly more extravagant clothes. In a shopping gallery, I peer into one store and see a shirt that would look great on me. I point it out to you but you are not interested; you'd rather flick through the clothes rail someone forgot outside the shop.

Some of Montreal's supermarkets stay open 24-hours. We go into one, and while waiting in line to pay for something, your song "I Want It" comes on the radio.

Back on the streets, heading back to Club Bitch. The free weekly newspaper Mirror, which can be found in every bar and street corner, is packaged this week as an orange juice carton. I'm surprised to see they are using a photo of Ryan on its cover. I drink some of the orange juice and it tastes good. I wonder if Ryan has kept a few cartons at home as souvenirs. I wonder if I should take some cartons home with me.

Current Mood: silly
Current Location: Mile End, London
Current Music: David Arkenstone - Sister Moon

My friends Ry-ry and Jim are visiting us. They arrived Tuesday and leave tomorrow morning. This is a video they recorded for the Global Dancing viral video series:

I didn't know this, but a girl I know from Canada (currently living in Chicago) started this "craze". Her video is here. Soon, the video was spreading around the world, like this one done by her sister (a good friend of mine) in Toronto, and this guy in Istanbul. If I were to make one, it'd have the Big Ben in the background. Why don't you make one too? :-)

* SPECIAL BULLETIN: hello, this is Ry-ry from Montreal - let's see those tushes in action. *

Current Mood: chipper
Current Location: Mile End, London
Current Music: Ry-ry's 30th bday mix to me

Cher Amis Bonjour!! J’ai décidé d’écrire un post en français. Qu'est ce que vous pensez de ça?

Dans quelques jours, je vais critiquer le roman Suite française, écrit par Irène Némirovsky. Je sais que je ferai beaucoup d'erreurs; pouvez vous m'aider avec quelques erreurs de grammaire?

Il faut que je pratique souvent l'écriture en français si je veux habiter au Canada un jour. J'ai besoin de parler à quelqu'un aussi...

Current Mood: timide
Current Location: Waterloo, London

I'm not leaving the flat today.

I spent the morning playing video games (X-Men, mostly because it's like Heroes by proxy) and reading. I started E. M. Forster's Maurice and it looks like I'll be finished with it by tonight. Chocolates, coffee with dollops of Bailey's and a chicken pie also featured. We have run out of milk and I need to think of a way to trick Kevin into going to the cornerstore. He's a Leo so it's all reverse psychology when I want something done.

I took the stereo into the bathroom with The 6ths' "Hyacinths and Thistles", poured some Muji milk bath salts in the hot water, lit a rose and sandalwood candle, turned off the lights, stripped, made sure my half-mug of Bailey's and ice wouldn't tip in the bath, and luxuriantly slid in. I like listening to music in the bathtub. I like the way it echoes and seems played just for myself, recorded in an echoeing chamber. Nothing gets lost, like it so often does in a London living room invaded by the street's constant sounds.

Other great suggestions for the bathtub: Lou Reed's "Transformer", The Raveonette's "Lust Lust Lust", The Moody Bitch Mix and The Magnetic Fields' "69 Love Songs vol.3". Strangelove's "Time For The Rest of Your Life" is too intense for such a small space and will depress you. The second time I read Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" was in the tub (two lie ins); and I've also watched Scream 3 in the tub (this was in Kevin's uni apartment; I moved the TV until it snuggly fit the bathroom's entrance.)

I want to be buried in a bathtub. But I don't want to be drowned in one, or electrocuted (as Kevin seems to think is my fate everytime I sneak the stereo in there.)

X-post to

bathtubz, the best community in Livejournal, natch <--- sooo 2003.

Current Mood: clean
Current Location: Mile End, London
Current Music: ABC - The Look of Luv

Greetings from Canada!

Two hours after arriving at Kevin's farm on Christmas Day, snow began to fall. Since then, I've read murder mysteries, eaten far too much chocolate, visited old friends (and played videogame with their children), and I'm now in Montreal for the New Year.

Canadian Boxing Day sales + British pound = crazy shopping spree.

I hope you are doing well. My e-mail is on my userinfo in case you need to reach me. I'm here in Montreal until Tuesday or Wednesday then we return to Ottawa. We are hoping to visit Toronto for a few days before catching our plane back to London on the 9th. Things are up in the air and I'm just drifting on a holiday cloud.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Current Mood: happy
Current Location: Montreal, Canada
Current Music: Ryan announcing dinner is ready

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single gay man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a boyfriend.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a gay neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding friends, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their queer friends.

Not all that Mr. Ollie, however, with the assistance of his female friends, could ask on the subject was sufficient to draw from the gossips any satisfactory description of Mr. Kevin. They attacked the rumour mill in various ways; with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all; and they were at last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour Lady Helen. Her report was highly favourable. Mrs. Melissa had been delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively hopes of Mr. Kevin's heart were entertained.

In a few days Mr. Kevin returned Mr. Ollie's visit, and sat about ten minutes with him in a coffee shop. He had entertained hopes of being admitted to a sight of the young gay man, of whose beauty he had heard much; but he saw only a pale brasilian thang. His lady friends were somewhat more fortunate, for they had the advantage of ascertaining, from a neighbouring table, that he wore a blue coat and rode with black boots.

An invitation to the movies was soon afterwards dispatched; and already had Mr. Ollie planned the courses that were to do credit to his housekeeping, when an answer arrived which deferred it all. Mr. Kevin was obliged to write an essay the following day, and consequently unable to accept the honour of his invitation. Mr. Ollie was quite disconcerted. He could not imagine what business he could have writing an essay so soon after their meeting at the cafe; and he began to fear that he might be always flying about from one place to another, and never settled as he ought to be. Lady Helen quieted his fears a little by stating the idea of his being able to attend a movie during the weekend; and a report soon followed that Mr. Kevin was indeed able to attend the cinema. The female friends grieved over such a large number of days before the date; but were comforted the day before their date by hearing that, instead of watching a romantic comedy, they would be attending Bride of Chucky.

The evening altogether passed off pleasantly for the two queer boyz. They returned therefore, in good spirits to Cote-des-Neiges, the condo where Mr. Ollie lived, and of which he was the principal inhabitant.

Current Mood: dorky
Current Location: Driffield Road, London
Current Music: Classic FM

Kevin and I have booked our tickets to Canada.

We leave on Christmas Day and arrive back in London on the 10th of January. It will be a white Christmas, of sorts. I'm looking forward to seeing snow again, the in-laws, and the good friends who still live in Kanuck Land.

Unfortunately, we won't have any time to visit Toronto. If any friends from there, reading this, happen to be in Ottawa or Montreal around this time, please let me know. Let's plan a get together.

moonlightjoy, see you at Unity!

Current Mood: excited
Current Location: Driffield Road, London
Current Music: Happy Birthday mix CD, by Silke

Columbine-style shooting unfolding in Montreal.

When I was a student in Montreal, I took a course in Dawnson College. I called a friend on Sunday, Dagmara, and we talked about Kevin & I moving back to Montreal next Summer. She told me she had enrolled in a few technical courses and was going part-time with her work; Kevin just found out from our friend Ryan on MSN that one of her courses was in Dawnson. Ryan is calling her home and trying to check she's ok.

On a gut level, I feel that she's fine. But I still want to be sure.

Current Mood: worried
Current Location: Driffield Road, London

* Once in a while, the usual rumour ran the school's cafeteria: a new ship was in town. Sometimes you outstripped the rumour by seeing the sailors wander down the city's packed streets before anyone else, their "plain" clothes making them look so alike: tight jeans, buzz cuts, fitted shirts or T-shirts tucked in, pristine sneakers. At night, they descended upon Wan Chai, looking for Cantonese hookers and alcohol. To their surprise they would find themselves sharing clubs and bars with us, teenage gweilos who also liked a bit of cheap booze and a good time wherever ecstasy tabs were easily found.

* She called my phone to tell me she wasn't waiting by the bookshop but by the longbar. When I saw her, she was sitting beside a mother and her child, waving at the baby. In the crowded supermarket, I confessed that I was reading a trashy novel called "Labyrinth". Kevin and I made her watch Twin Peaks' pilot episode that night because she'd never seen it. I wanted to take her to Elbow's Cafe, just on the other side of Victoria Park, but the weekend was far too fast for us.

* We spent the turn of the millenium pushing a car up Saint Domingo's mountain, our feet caked with cow shit, cold rain running down our backs, the night so dark that the only thing we could see were the pine trees caught by the headlights. Then, once we had reached the top, we crammed inside the car and opened the bottle of champagne. we smoked some pot and laughed at our miserable new year's as the rain showed no sign of abating.

* Friday night and everyone from school has plans. Even my brother has gone out with his skateboard friends. I sit in my bedroom, surrounded by cheap paperbacks, computer games and a good-for-nothing TV. I have a million hours to kill and the worst company of all: myself. I haven't discovered The Smiths yet. My parents sit in the living room with my brother Nicholas and his nurse, watching television. I don't wish to join them, but I give breaks to my solitude by walking past them on my way to the kitchen.

* It's my birthday and all my friends have been asked to dress as superheroes. I am Superman and my brother is Spiderman. Another Superman arrives, taller and stronger than me, then a couple of Spideys too -- costumes from the same supermarket I'm sure. When Bianca arrives, wearing a red polka dot dress, I rush to explain away her embarrassment at having forgotten the theme, how she didn't fuck up, how there is a heroine out there, printed on a comic page, wearing the same dress and saving the world.

* The first apartment I lived on my own. A semi-basement beneath Mechtilde, the landlady with a large collection of books on Hitler. When the ice storm hit Montreal, the stairs leading to my door became a slide. I broke one of my suitcase's wheels sliding to my door after arriving from the airport. The city had been in darkness for weeks, with people sharing apartments in order to generate heat (the year of Montreal's baby boom). Mechtilde gave me boxes of chocolate in exchange for shoveling the snow off her entrance. And I, in turn, got Holly once to help me do the job. I told her it would be fun and she believed it. Then it was too late to back out when the shovel was already in her hands.

- inspired by

rag_and_bone.

Current Mood: nostalgic
Current Location: Driffield Road, London
Current Music: The Smiths - Hatful of Hollow

The guy who books my tickets to Brasil used to sleep with a gun underneath his pillow. I know this because his mother-in-law is my mom's best friend. I once had to spend the night in a hotel in Sao Paulo because he'd booked my connecting flight to Londrina the day after I arrived. I was very pissed off. We still use that travel agency because friendships are sometimes thicker than blood.

When I was a kid, my father would sometimes take my brother and I camping near the sea during Summer. We'd spend the whole day at the beach and, at night, I'd read Agatha Christie novels inside the tent until the mosquitoes got the best of me.

When I started smoking pot in high school, I'd make my best friends (Karla, Sue, Susannah and Janet -- yup I was the only boy) watch Siouxsie and the Banshees videos. I thought they were the trippiest videos ever; they laughed at Siouxsie and said she was Robert Smith in drag. I got my revenge when Karla was spooked by the skeleton dancing in the video for "Cities in Dust".

I did mushrooms for the first time in Janet's dorm room in McGill University. She played Abba and I felt like the music was coming to me from another planet. Then I cried during Tracy Chapman's "Drive".

When Kevin and I moved to London, we lived in hostels for two weeks. It was a week exactly after 9/11 and there was a young american student, Aaron, in our room. I still dont' know if he figured out we were a couple. He'd go jogging in Hyde Park in the morning, wear a shirt and tie to the theatre (which he would attend by himself); he was from Albuquerque, New Mexico, and he had native blood.

Current Mood: calm
Current Location: Delamere Terrace, London
Current Music: Uncut magazine mix cd - May edition

10. Trainspotting - Soundtrack
9. Belle & Sebastian - The Boy with the Arab Strap
8. Dubstar - Disgraceful
7. Jamiroquai - Travelling Without Moving
6. Portishead - Numb
5. Garbage - Garbage
4. Cocteau Twins - Heaven or Las Vegas
3. Beth Orton - Trailer Park
2. Pulp - Different Class
1. Suede - Coming Up

Current Mood: nostalgic
Current Music: Accuradio - Brit Rock Station

Seven years ago, in Montreal, I went on a date with Kevin for the first time. We went to see Bride of Chucky. The cinema was almost empty but I didn't dare kiss him or try to sneak my arm inside his. Outside, I asked him if he wanted to come back to my place on Avenue Côtes-des-Neiges. In the elevator, I kissed him. In my apartment, I offered him orange juice in one of my azure glasses. I put on some Chinese classical music (which I'd bought that Summer on a trip to China to visit my brother and father) and we smoochied on the couch. I had the lights off, candles burning (how smooth am I?); I didn't have any curtains on my windows, only tall plants and one tree I'd bought to serve as a barrier for any telescopes. It was a clear and warm night. He didn't go home then.

Later that year, two good friends in Brasil, Andrea and Bruno, went on a first date to see Bride of Chucky too. They became a couple and I told them that the four of us were now Friends of Chucky. A few Christmas' ago, Karla bought us a copy of the movie on DVD. It hits the right note of matinee B-movie enjoyment and cheap horror thrills (with a good dose of biker humour thrown in). I like to watch it sometimes when I'm sitting at home with nothing to do.

I haven't seen Child of Chucky yet. I'll probably only see it if it's playing on television. Halloween is in a few days, plenty of horror movies suddenly in the cinemas. It's a chilly and gray Saturday but Goldfrapp is keeping me company, warming up my insides. Natalia and I saw her last night on The Jools Holland Show and decided that we want to scratch away and find out what's the crazy life she's led and hasn't let out. Afterwards, there was a terrible, but compelling, movie with the dumb guy from Friends, when he was still half-cute, about girls sent to a woman's prison. Bad movies are only truly good when you are stoned, which we weren't, so I went to bed.

Kevin comes back from Canada on Monday. I wish he were here today. Kevin, if you are reading this, I hope you have a lovely Saturday... and weekend too... and flight back home.

Love you very much.

Current Mood: happy
Current Music: Goldfrapp - Supahnature

Kevin called last night from a phone booth in Montreal. I asked him if they were already snowed under and he laughed; I wanted to say that it's cold in London, with leaves everywhere, but that would be a lie. I should have worn shorts to work today. This weather just ain't right.

Talking back and forth, Kevin reminds me of how great it would be if we could live in Canada again: we could find a cheap and spacious apartment in Montreal; he'd work with graphic design (or make more films), I could find some administrative job and study french part-time. Or maybe we could live in Ottawa, Canada's cultural void, and travel every weekend to Montreal (it's only a two-hour bus ride) for any gigs or parties. We'd crash on Ryan or Dagmara's floor, go to the Tam tams on Sunday's, go dancing in the village once in a while (with Josie, of course), and have breakfast at Chez Cora just before catching our bus home. As a last resort, we could try living in Halifax: the city is small, but it's where CBC is stationed, there's a fairly big university, and the people are nice. Also, Halifax is by the sea and has a really great countryside (we visited in 99, during the Awesome Blossom festival.) However, it would never cross our minds to live in Toronto: we dislike the place and we'd only live there if we were desperate and all our other plans had failed. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of Torontonian friends that I love, but the city itself annoys the shit out of me. Toronto seems to constantly be struggling to imitate New York, but there's nothing more to it than its bland and faceless core and its population of suburbanites who think they are the crème de la crème of Canadian society. When I lived in Canada, people used to say there was animosity between Montrealers and Torontonians. I think you can guess which side of the fence you'll find me on that discussion.

I'm thinking of getting the immigration ball running. If that doesn't work out... I might need to get married next Summer!!!! That would be the fastest way for me to get residency in Canada. From speaking to Kevin last night I got the impression that our plans to move to Ireland next year have been shelved. I better start enjoying my last year in London - doing all those things I should have done before - because it's probably my last one here.

I've got a Chav party to go this Saturday (where I'm the only person not allowed to dress like a chav - perhaps because I'm one?!), another birthday party at Casino Royale and a third birthday party during the day, at lunch time. I've been trying to come up with ideas for a halloween costume for the Chav party, but nothing seems to work. I'm also scared of taking public transport while dressed as an air hostess, so I'll probably have to resort to a more mild attire.

In half an hour, I'm taking my lunch break. I'm going to sit on a bench facing the Thames again and write a little more in my notebook.

When given the opportunity, goths like to dress up as chavs

Current Mood: hopeful

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Picos Gemeos

"Every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don't plan it. Don't wait for it. Just let it happen." - Dale Cooper, Twin Peaks

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