The summer clothes are stuffed in a dark corner of the closet and Lady Gravity pulls everything down once November starts. Degrees are swept below the porch with the leaves of frightened trees. Layers are added to the staircases, the shrubs, the bed and our little brittle heads. We rub our hands together to produce some kind of magic, if not at the bus stop, under hot water or in the stench of the sleepy heating devices.

Pedals are slowly left to settle with cobwebs and dust as we reach for our monthly passes. Squeezed into the middle of the crowded bus, we attempt to grab a secure fixture, pushing our arm through puffy coats and yards of scarves. We sweat in silence. Despite the biting cold we’ve just escaped, we feel sleepy.




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Labels: beard, graphic journal, mood

Montreal,

did you forget something? Not the old furniture. You left that out on the curb. That tacky purple blazer? You passed it on to the Salvation Army. What about Bonsai? The cat?

There's a curb for that.


For some reason, some people find it perfectly acceptable to leave their pets behind when moving to a new location. Some leave them out on the street but some Montrealers leave them in worse condition: locked up.

There are many organizations that can help you find a home for your unwanted hairball. All it takes is a little time and effort. I know that sounds like a drag when summer has finally dropped some sunshine on our shallow faces but all you need to do is pick up the phone and drop off the little guy or girl in a better place.

Labels: beard, concern, links, love, montreal

After all the heartache, I promised myself I would never eat another apple. There are other fruits in the garden.

One night, miss Holder tempted me out of the garden and into the jungle. The natives were wild, colourful and shared drinks and dances in a manner of ritual. She showed me the dance floor, it was everywhere around us. From side to side my head turned. My hands as birds and then like fish. To the front my left leg, soon gone to the back. Steps close to the fire, steps far from the shore. From side to side my heart flew and stopped on you, standing still like the trunk of a tree.

Your hair and clothes messed up with the night, your beard barely hiding your smiling lips, you kept breathing. Ignoring what had just fallen from the sky, you kept breathing like you were waiting for me to stop you with a bolt of lightning. My dance got slower, my eyes steady on the mark. I studied your language, I moved into mine.

Andre kept stepping forward. From side to side my head turned, only to return to you. Peter showed me all the tricks he was carrying in his bag. A quick look and you had disappeared. Wanted. Returned a few sparks before I could pronounce you missing. Tell me, who are you? Say anything you want over the noise that is not your voice. What’s your name? James. Sweet James, you are beautiful. From side to side the compliment fell, like my blood pressure. I disappeared.

With the sound of the river flowing to my ears, green grass between my fingers and blue eyes above my nose I found myself smiling. Who are you? Sweet James Grieve had come to save me. From under your coat, you pulled out a white flower. Before I could pronounce my love, you put it under water. From the river, you lifted the gift that would water my mouth back to life. A shiny red apple.

Labels: alarming truthness, beard, discovery, love, musical, notice the sign, secret

One of my favorite moments of any week would be the moment I hear Jonathan Goldstein speak from my radio. Not only is his show entertaining, but his voice is like that of the shy friend you had in secondary 2. It is no secret that I love the CBC radio broadcasts. In fact, I will even offer up that I only listen to that station and that station only. The dial on my old Sanyo stereo (with the amazingly mysterious AMSS!) has never turned since I have settled in my Montreal flat, back in May.

I listen to Daybreak when I get up in the morning so I can hear audio clips from Maher Arar's stand and to the political play du jour, for Pierre Landry’s cultural spot and to see how many layers of clothing I should wear before stepping out. Then, at other random times, I flick on the switch to listen in on whatever is playing while I paint, cook or tidy up. But never while I write. I cannot write and listen to the CBC at the same time, it is impossible.

As I was saying, Jonathan puts out a great show called Wiretap and I want to share with you this small pleasure of listening to his hilarious improvised sketches, stories and my personal favorite, his perfectly timed tongue-in-cheek telephone conversations. Even his guests are spot on.

Click here to hear a 26 minute long broadcast of “The Gentleman's Guide to Grooming” with John Hodgman, author of “The Areas of My Expertise,” an exercise in literary parody.

Also, a little visual bonbon, click here to see an amazing animation of "Joseph's Coat" written by Jonathan Goldstein, and animated by Gregor Ehrlich. It's Paint that flies across your screen like play doh on skates.

Labels: beard, echo, hair, phone, radio

Labels: animation, artwork, beard, humans, magic, random, smile