Bonne St.Jean/ Hooray for Baptist Day!: A Quasi Rant.

One of the many, many benefits about living in Quebec is the existence of the St. Jean Baptiste holiday, aka today. Maybe I just like it so much because, as an ex-Ontarian, I tend to forget about it until it's actually upon me, and an unexpected holiday in the middle of the week feels like manna from heaven. Or maybe because it inevitably leads to some kind of franco vs. anglo dramz that entertains.

This year was the English band controversy. If you're not reading this in Quebec, you've probably missed the whole dumb ting, so here's the rundown. A couple of bands slated to play at one of the many SJB shows were English, which meant they sang in English (gasp!) and so were summarily disinvited. This, of course, led to a minor media kerfuffle which led to them being reinstated.

Now, I did see Lake of Stew when they opened for the Sadies and John Doe, and I liked them fine. For the first song. And then I realized that I was in for a whole set of bluegrass songs about NDG, which I really thought only had enough material for half a bottle of Jack Daniel's and maybe a quarter of a bluegrass song, but no matter. So I wasn't particularly invested in seeing their performance as a victory for anglo rights or anything.

But I did think this whole controversy was frigging stupid. Nations like Canada or Quebec are made up piecemeal of a bunch of different cultures and grafted onto the boneyard of colonialism. Trying to govern them so they're monolithic and legislate them so they're monolingual (or at best, bilingual), is a dangerous mix of ignorance and reactionary tribalism. And kind of a losing bid anyway.

So my solution for this bullshit next year is to have a St. Jean Baptiste's day concert where everyone sings in any language but French or English. Portuguese, Yiddish, Swahili, Arabic, Italian, Ukrainian, whatever. Go nuts. It's not going to save the world, or even accomplish much in the way of moving past identity politics. But hopefully it will scramble the brains of folks like the Association Culturel Louis-Hébert so much they won't be able to mount an effective response, and Quebec news can get back to getting worked up over road conditions.

Monty, Je T'Aime

First of all, sweet holy hell it is humid in Montreal. Not only that, but it hasn't been sunny in days. It's like I'm being steamed to death in a pot of sadness. Blergh.

Second, my brother brought his special lady friend to visit Montreal today. Apparently, I was in charge with convincing her that it was an awesome city and she should totally want to move here right now. I hope she forgot all about the little falling out Montreal and I had a few weeks ago, when I was angrily cursing Montreal and planning on leaving it in a big wheel. I'm not certain how well I did, but I hope the combo of delicious honey chocolates and the D&Q store reeled her in.

I always find it strange showing off a city to a visitor. I feel like I should come off as being more cool than I really am, the kind of insider who knows where the best espresso place/venue/sock store is hidden. But, I am only human. I go to McDonald's sometimes, I usually get my coffee from the closest place to work and I'm as often at home watching episodes of Spaced as going to a show. But I do know a few good places and, like my ever-dwindling store of anecdotes, I'll exploit them for all the cred I can. Mwa ha ha.

Forever 21

Oh God, it was either the mechanical bull or my friend's couch, but I feel like I've been put through a food processor. It doesn't hurt as much if I bend my arms and tilt my neck at just the right angle though.

So, things I learned last night and this morning: The bad thing about being in your early twenties is that you treat your body like shit and make silly life choices. The good thing about being in your early twenties is that you're not old enough to be ashamed about coming into work wearing the clothes you had on last night and with a freight train rumbling through your head. Woo. Ow.

Back to Box

The good news: I finally found a place to live. I've been waiting to move out on my own for a while. I like my roommates well enough, but at some point you just want to be able to walk around naked, drinking juice from the carton and watching "Commando" at will in the living room. Finding an apartment within walking distance of my new job, which is sort of on the cusp of becoming the Plateau, proved... distressing at best. All the decent places have been carved up by hipsters with their lederhosen and their adorable haircuts, and after seeing one too many cramped shacks priced to move at 800 freaking dollars, I gave up walking to work and/or being trendy.

After tossing my leggings in the garbage, I headed out to Verdun and Hochelaga/Maisonneuve. I've liked living in Pt. St. Charles, but it's way too residential for me right now. I need stores and restos! Well, I found a place out by the Frontenac metro station, almost where Hochelaga/Maisonneuve begins. So, those stores are going to be the Salvation Army, and those restos are going to be strip clubs, but that's kind of awesome. I'll have a 2 bedroom apartment with lots of light all to myself and my cat, and am prepared to learn French or at least valuable swear words to get people to back off.

The bad news: Oh my God, I have to pack. I already junked a whole bunch of stuff, or at least farmed boxes of books out to my parents, but I still have SO MUCH STUFF. Like, I don't even remember *why* I bought some of the things, and I don't know how to get rid of them. I know we live in a decadent consumer society, but the sheer amount of my stationary is still ridiculous.
And, I'm moving on the 1st, so it's been impossible to get a moving truck and I don't get the day off, so it looks like I'm moving on the 4th and couch surfing until then.

12 Things About New York

1. It's so big people can only make sense of it in parts, so it seems like every area has its own name or ridiculous acronym.
2. The Strand Bookstore is like book Mecca, and you'll find biblio worshippers in every aisle.
3. The New York Public Library is so beautiful it will make you burn a TV and take out a book.
4. You always feel like you're in a movie, because about five movies were filmed where you're standing at any time and everyone will tell you about them.
5. For some reason, there's both a Hershey's and an M&M store in Times Square. Is the latter the Kosovo to the former's Serbia?
6. Not only does the city sometimes sleep, it seems to wake up late when you need a carrot zucchini muffin from Amy's Bakery really early in the morning.
7. It has some of the best food in the world, everything's so easy to find and buy that eating well is democratized.
8. The subway system feels at first like it was designed as a brainteaser to go with the Sunday crossword. But it makes a lot of sense quickly.
9. Getting out to the Statue of Liberty is neither free nor liberating.
10. The kids in The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler should have hid out in the Museum of Natural History instead. Then they would have been able to cuddle a stuffed jackrabbit.
11. Central Park is like wild jungle that's going through a Zen phase.
12. This city will win you over and make you want to sell a kidney for some New York real estate.

Bad Ideas, 5.6 or whatever

Note: This is one of those classic whiny and introspective blog posts. Flee now!

I'm not the kind of woman who gets really worked up about Web 2.0's (is that what the kids really call it? I'm a senior in the bod of a lazy grad) invasion of privacy. If anything, I think that the new social relations make the conditional aspects of the construct of "privacy" a little more visible. No, what bothers me is the esteem issues that result from the invasion of privacy. Not my own privacy, mind, but the privacy of other people. You know what you realize when you can peek into the lives of other people? EVERYONE IS COOLER THAN YOU. Or at least, I've found that they're cooler than me.

I think I asked for this nasty realization once I predicated my Internet stalking on feelings of pique. It's like as soon as I start feeling bad about myself, I just want to check and make sure the feeling is completely justified. If a girl alienated me with her non-stop condescension, but she's up to all kind of cool shit that my old friends think is really great? You can bet I'm jealous and resentful, even though I'm the one who totally asked for it by seeking her out. Which both makes me sad on my own merits, and increases the gap between her and my post-uni, spinning the old mental wheels, self. Particularly since I'm repeating Hall and Oates vids on YouTube while I scroll through her tweets for some reason. Other things that mock me: relationship statuses, photo albums from exciting places, and messages on a best friend's wall from an assy twatwaffle that proves they're still on speaking terms.

But, if I have any hope for my technology-driven future, it's this post. Not just because in writing it, I've admitted to myself that humans are more complicated than the simple roles I want to assign them, and that most of them (even Herr Ass) mean well at the root of things. Or because I feel really bad about feeling petty and resentful. It's because, at some point, Facebook and Twitter and everything else make you confront what's shared and human in other people's lives. In their exhibition you find yourself mirrored, if occasionally distorted. So, I will point my narcissism away for a night, hopefully a week, and try to move on.

And, yeah, I never did sort through those New York pictures. But I did go and see UP, which was worth it for its nonstop adorableness. The self-pity express has steamed out of the station for now. Tomorrow's post promises to use no first person at all to prevent a repeat.

Miles of Garter Stitch Before I Sleep

Okay, if I don't sort through the photos from the New York trip I went on two weeks ago, someone figure out a way to deliver a cyber slap to me through the computer. I deserve it. I've just been too tired for the arduous task of plugging the cord thingy into my computer... and then getting rid of all the fuzzy shots were I was cursing my dad's camera... and then hitting the upload button on Flickr. See, this is the kind of technological know how that has guaranteed I remain an arts student forever. But they will come, and I'll do a brief write-up of my miraculous time in the best city ever. Sorry Montreal, but you don't have the Strand or an amazingly byzantine subway system.

In other news, I finally got back on the knitting bandwagon. Unfortunately, it's just a series of mitered squares in garter stitch with tiny yarn, so I'm not sure if this project will finally put a tear in the general apathy that's blanketed my life lately. I'll post a picture once I finish a whole square, because then I'll have a better idea of how the colours are working together. Right now, I'm not sure if it's cute for baby or just right for Don Johnson circa Miami Vice.