Tuesday, I decided that I could only hide out in my room playing Online Boggle for so long. For one thing, I was starting to imagine possible Boggle grids in my head. Then coming up with fantasy grids, grids that would allow me to spell seven letter words with ease, or specially themed grids. I had to admit that I was clearly going nutty, and decided to head out with my camera to the
Oratoire St-Joseph, as decided by my
roommate's boyfriend. Unfortunately, by the time I decided to leave I couldn't find my lens cap. I was not leaving unless I got some pictures from the whole thing, so I took even more pictures of Oliver in between ransacking my room for the tiny little plastic thing. So, not only had I become a Boggle-playing crazy cat lady, but I had become a well-documented Boggle-playing
crazy cat lady. Whatever, Oliver is crazy photogenic. Thankfully, I found it eventually, and headed out. For those of you non-
Montrealais, the
Oratoire was built in honour of
Blessed André Besette, at the foot of Mont Royal. It has the largest copper dome beside St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, and it looms above the surrounding Cote
des
Neige neighbourhood. Pilgrims crawl up its (many, many) steps hoping to be cured of their afflictions, and there's a special chapel lighted by
votives and watched by the crutches of those who have been healed. I need to take the tour
guide's words for the last bit, because being a non-Catholic I chickened out of actually going in,
preferring instead to photograph exteriors and such. I always feel weird being in religious places or events, particularly when I'm not a member of the faith. So, some other time I'll have to drag my Catholic
roommate down as my guide. I got some decent, if dull shots of the place. It still feels like winter here, with all the snow we've been getting, so I'm getting a little sick of everything having that grey, muted patina of winter.
My next goal was to get a decent shot of the big cross on Mt. Royal. Here's where things started to go
embarrassingly wrong. It's important to remember that, as its name implies
, it's a
GIANT METAL CROSS ON A HILL. Because, I could not find that big iron cross on a hill. There are signs, with arrows, on the paths that will supposedly direct you to that big cross. I followed the signs. The first one even had distances- 0.8 km, it said. "Well, a bit of a trek," I said, but nothing extreme. Why, I walk that far from my apartment to
McGill each day." So I walked. And walked. Avoided joggers. Avoided power walkers. Was nearly trampled by a gang of people pretending to cross country ski with poles but without skis, but I continued walking. I followed the signs, and I followed the arrows, until another sign had a distance marking on it: 1.7 km. Why? Where did I go so terribly wrong? I should have let the
faux skiers get me. The cross is visible from St. Urbain, and yet I could not find it. Please send help, and perhaps a compass. However, the day was not a complete write-off. I saw a fox on the hill who came pretty close to me, although none of the other walkers looked as impressed. I'm guessing that foxes are probably like pigeons on that mountain- chummy and used to humans. Here's Rabies Fred the fox, next to his favourite beer.
And then I went to see
Grindhouse, since I was damned tired and it was late. I'm the odd person who likes Robert Rodriguez better than Quentin
Tarantino. I think Rodriguez does what he does with a little more verve- I never feel dull after watching Desperado or From Dusk 'Til Dawn. I do have to admit, if only grudgingly, that
Tarantino has had a profound influence on film, particularly American film, since the early nineties. But so much of
tha
t influence is confined to things I'm a little sick of in movies. Crime dialogue that's too clever by half, crime dialogue about pop culture, and shots of people's damn feet, for example. Which is why I ended up liking Planet Terror a lot more than Death Proof, and not just because I'm a zombie freak. Planet Terror is zippy, and has Rose McGowan with a gun leg. Death Proof has some amazing stunt work, and Kurt Russell is well-used, but any part not involving cars is rather dull. Still, three hours of fun, particularly the fake trailers. Please make either Hobo With a Shotgun or
Machete real movies, film powers that be. I love Danny
Trejo.
And, one of my good friends got herself a boyfriend and is being all cute. It's so nice when good
things happen to good people, isn't it? Hopefully there's some of her magic left to spread around.
crazy cat lady. Whatever, Oliver is crazy photogenic. Thankfully, I found it eventually, and headed out. For those of you non-Montrealais, the Oratoire was built in honour of Blessed André Besette, at the foot of Mont Royal. It has the largest copper dome beside St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, and it looms above the surrounding Cote des Neige neighbourhood. Pilgrims crawl up its (many, many) steps hoping to be cured of their afflictions, and there's a special chapel lighted by votives and watched by the crutches of those who have been healed. I need to take the tour guide's words for the last bit, because being a non-Catholic I chickened out of actually going in, preferring instead to photograph exteriors and such. I always feel weird being in religious places or events, particularly when I'm not a member of the faith. So, some other time I'll have to drag my Catholic roommate down as my guide. I got some decent, if dull shots of the place. It still feels like winter here, with all the snow we've been getting, so I'm getting a little sick of everything having that grey, muted patina of winter.
, it's a GIANT METAL CROSS ON A HILL. Because, I could not find that big iron cross on a hill. There are signs, with arrows, on the paths that will supposedly direct you to that big cross. I followed the signs. The first one even had distances- 0.8 km, it said. "Well, a bit of a trek," I said, but nothing extreme. Why, I walk that far from my apartment to McGill each day." So I walked. And walked. Avoided joggers. Avoided power walkers. Was nearly trampled by a gang of people pretending to cross country ski with poles but without skis, but I continued walking. I followed the signs, and I followed the arrows, until another sign had a distance marking on it: 1.7 km. Why? Where did I go so terribly wrong? I should have let the faux skiers get me. The cross is visible from St. Urbain, and yet I could not find it. Please send help, and perhaps a compass. However, the day was not a complete write-off. I saw a fox on the hill who came pretty close to me, although none of the other walkers looked as impressed. I'm guessing that foxes are probably like pigeons on that mountain- chummy and used to humans. Here's Rabies Fred the fox, next to his favourite beer.
t influence is confined to things I'm a little sick of in movies. Crime dialogue that's too clever by half, crime dialogue about pop culture, and shots of people's damn feet, for example. Which is why I ended up liking Planet Terror a lot more than Death Proof, and not just because I'm a zombie freak. Planet Terror is zippy, and has Rose McGowan with a gun leg. Death Proof has some amazing stunt work, and Kurt Russell is well-used, but any part not involving cars is rather dull. Still, three hours of fun, particularly the fake trailers. Please make either Hobo With a Shotgun or Machete real movies, film powers that be. I love Danny Trejo.