Sissy Sarah deserved a few cocktails - she just finished reading from her book "What Gloria Wants" at the International Festival of Authors in front of what felt like 9000 11-15 year olds who clearly weren't big fans of being pulled into a book reading. I would have crapped my pants and run for the hills. Sarah looked like she was having the time of her life - the kids were begging her to read more by the time she told them she was done. No exaggeration here either, they were literally begging. She might as well have pulled an elephant out of her ass, it was a magic moment for any adult who witnessed it.
And since we're on the topic of fawning over artists who make art fun, accessible and experiential - it's time to give a very, very tardy shout-out to Scotiabank for creating what ended up being one of the most exciting nights I've ever had in Toronto - Nuit Blanche. Just as I thought the night couldn't get more thrilling, boom, there would be another cool experience around the corner and my heart would start racing again.
I wish I had taken better pictures, for example, of this Kiss look-alike guy emerging from the fog sculpture. I now completely understand why rockstars want fog and smoke and fire stuff in their videos, frankly, I think it should be mandatory. No fog, no video - zero tolerance. Nothing is more fun than tooling around in fog hearing people shriek like 6 year olds while sloshing about in mud, it's my new favourite activity. Mud and a fog machine are now on my Christmas list, I hope Santa understands that I'm willing to compromise on the mud consistency, but the volume of fog is critical to my ability to work, rest and play.
I saw this doggy by the window of a restaurant on Queen west the other day. It kinda looks like he's approving the liquor license doesn't it? Have the LCBO reassigned this role to a non-union pack of Jack Russels? And if so, I wonder what they're making per hour...The dog looked a little forlorn, like he's telling his owner, inside, munching on something buttery, that he's going to pee all over the stylish trendsetting European carry-all basket if said owner does not move his/her fat ass and spring him from the vehicle. Maybe I'm deflecting...
And now it's definitely time to get back to work. You're almost caught up blog - there's truly a lot going on over here, but I've been drinking too much and can't remember most of it.
So sorry bloggety blog,
I've been a remiss recorder. I thought I'd catch you after my Birthday a few weeks back.
Mooey fun. Tired of playing Julie McCoy the cruise director, I spammed a couple of dozen friends I hadn't seen in some time and told them I'd love to meet them for a beer at the Gladstone - show up if you can, don't worry if you can't, any way we cut it, I'm not phoning all over town looking for a table that accommodates 5-25 people and changing that reservation 13 times as friends book and cancel. Friends came, friends drank, laughter ensued... we left to visit the lovely Esther at Addis Ababa to share massive trays of Ethiopian food and dance it up to my friend Len's band, The Fabulous Quitters. V. good times. I love it when a spam plan comes together, especially on my Birthday. Several friends blessed me with some great new tunage - Jolie Holland and Regina Spektor have been playing full-time here since.
Pal Ang got us tickets to the John Prine concert the following night. I forgot how great John Prine is live, I don't know how I forgot, I think it's cause I've only got him on cassette and Jesus, when was the last time I pulled out my cassettes?
Had a hot date with my Godson Tommy Tomato the next day.
Soccer playing, truck races in the park, bubble-blowing fest - c'mon, dates just don't get better than this. Okay, yah, they do, but the g-rated ones don't. I don't think I've ever met a child with a sweeter disposition than Thomas, I'm so glad he's religiously bound to stirring my gin and tonics when I get to Shady Acres.
Film Festival madness here in Toronto...Toronto plays host to so many awesome festivals, you really have to pick and choose where you'll invest your time and money wisely. I'm a Hot Docs gal myself, a fantastic festival where I generally catch dazzling documentaries that I'll never get the chance to see again. The ass-crunching time to see a couple of docs a day is like a vacation for me. I usually opt out of the insanity of TIFF, waiting hours for tickets and lurking to catch a glimpse of celebrities isn't quite my bag, I love seeing the movies, but I'm patient, so I wait until the films hit release.
There are two films featured in this year's festival that involve two very wonderful people that I can't wait to catch however...
First, "Manufactured Landscapes," a documentary by Jennifer Baichwal and Peter Mettler following one of my very favourite clients and people, Ed Burtynsky as he photographs, well, everything. These are all smiley, unpretentious, visionary people who deserve what will hopefully be, rave reviews. Cue link to info: http://www.cbc.ca/arts/tiff/features/tiffcanbuzz.html
Cue one of Ed's photographs of a shift change at the world's largest shoe factory in China...
I've worked with Ed for a few years now, and though most of my exciting work on his TED Prize wishes is complete, I'm always thrilled when he dreams up a new project for me to work on with him, cause frankly, I just dig hanging with him, his studio band members, and his family. There aren't enough words to describe the deliciousness of any one of these individuals or the whole crazy lot of them together. It's pretty simple really, Ed is good, and he has, very fortunately, attracted even more goodness around him. See the movie, will ya? And if footage of my fat ass running around at the TED conference in a blind panic or aforementioned footage of my fat ass hustling Chinese Journalist visas for this shoot with a raging flu made it into the film, please turn your eyes away - you may go blind.
Cue photo of us setting up for Ed's TED Prize.
The second film is "Everything's Gone Green." This is my friend Chris Nano's first time producing a feature. Coincidentally, I first met Chris at the beginning of this project, and he had just returned from a meeting with Douglas Coupland, where Mr. Coupland had excitedly shown Chris the new book he had just acquired called (wait for it...) "Manufactured Landscapes" by Edward Burtynsky. How very, very tiny this world truly is...Anyhoo, Chris Nanos? Also a big ball of goodness. I adore people who are have that magic combo of insatiable curiosity, sincere interest, love and enthusiasm, and never-ending focus for everything they choose to work on - this is Chris. He too, is highly down to earth but very visionary and tenacious. I would lurve to work on a project with Chris but if that never happens, I'm quite happy to sit back and admire his work. This film contains zero scenes of my fat-ass; go see it and know that you will not be blinded:
http://www.playbackmag.com/articles/magazine/20060904/everythingsgonegreen.html
Cue irrelevant giant blueberry mascot..
I live in a 100 year old brownstone with an echo chamber we like to call the fire escape. When my building portion of the neighbour rolecall consisted of one cat-lady, one war veteran with styrofoam padding coating every inch of his walls, and three social recluses who spent inordinate amounts of time at their mothers' houses, the fire escape was a charming place to arrange chairs in a choo-choo train formation for small social gatherings. Neighbour turnover has brought far younger folk to the building however, and now many of these twenty-somethings have monopolized the fire escape. The echo chamber factor means I can hear every single conversational tidbit exchanged within a 10 ft parameter from my office, which would be great, I'd be all over this if they were talking about anything interesting. But no. The gay actor singing Celine Dion covers I can take; the single mom with the lovely lilty British accent telling her kids to bugger off, I'm down with as well; the new idiotic blonde with the Dorothy Hamill cut, I'm seriously close to hurting.
She showed up at my door tonight at 6pm, asking for "the other woman she was dealing with before me." "Pardon me? I don't believe we've met yet, who are you looking for, maybe I can help?"
"I need that other woman that I was talking to..."
"Are you looking for the superintendent?"
"No, like, I need the other woman who takes care of, like, the building and things, is she still here?" (looking behind me).
"Um,could that be the superintendent who lives another floor down? She's just downstairs."
"Oh, like, she's on the main floor.. Right, the first floor (realizing she's on the second)..." and she leaves.
I kid you not - I should have taped the whole damn thing... I thought "Clueless" was a fictional movie.
Now she's exercising equal care with the English language out on my fire escape "So, like, then I, like, say 'What do you expect me to do?' - I mean, like, I can't be responsible, for, like, that."
Oh God, oh God, oh God, my "Hooked on Phonics" tape is rolling over in its 8-track player... Can I arrest her for violations to Oxford Dictionary? Make it stop...ahhhh, sweet relief, I think it's winding down...doh! that was just a pause so she could collect her thought... "like, what's he thinking? Like I can't, like..." There's a dog howling outside - it's like effing Grammy-award-winning music in comparison.
Word rage. Big time. What to do, what to do...
If you could write a book about anything, what would it be about?
After watching Phyllis Diller analyze perfect staging for a stand-up comedian in the documentary "Wisecracks," I started to wonder about how other staged environments affected audiences' reactions to performers. How do you design intimacy with an audience in a large space? How do you stage for maximum audience interactivity with a lecturer? A clown? A chef? I'd love to write a book exploring the effects of staged environments on both audience and performer.
Today's mascot is definitely this wind-up fish. This perfect stranger gave me the fish last Friday night after he overheard me talking about my camping trip. Nice, I really dig the fish, it's gotten a lot of air time on my toy-playing circuit though I haven't named him yet. Whad'ya think of Sharkey? My toy shark may get pissed...maybe Bill, yep, Bill sounds about right. Here's Bill swimming in my bathroom sink.
After a day of provocative speakers and partying at IdeaCity 2005, I sat down with a group of new and old acquaintances for a beer and conversation about inspriration and whatnot. Well, really, it was far more about the whatnot than the inspiration. One of the graphic designers at the table had just started working on his own after several years of designing for a television station that will remain nameless - the job demanded a daily regimen of pumping out a wackload of designs quickly, and he discussed the merits of quality vs. quantity. The conversation expanded to apply the same principles of quick and slightly dirty vs. focused and perfected to a number of other topics - which is better? After a few more beers, and a lot more expounding, the designer concluded that there was a lot more merit to getting the job done fast; clients will end up editing all your really incredible, profound ideas to match what the competition has already got out there. Sadly, I couldn't disagree, although my main client at the time was a notable exception, in fact, I was at the conference because he had given me his ticket. So we talked about that - if everyone's getting fast and dirty, how do we get the new, truly original stuff? At which point, the designer cut in "Well, maybe shallow is the new deep." We all took a moment of silence to think about that - by God, he was right, and Sweet Chewbacca Costume, the phrase sounded like butter rolling off our tongues as we repeated it.
Naturally, the more we talked, the more we confirmed the genius of this revelation in all its applications.
"Should I read 5 Harlequins or one No Logo?" - "Shallow is the new deep."
"4 hot-dogs or 1 small piece of fois gras?" - "Shallow is the new deep."
"Do I go for the life-altering experience or 4 fun parties?" "Shallow is the new deep."
It made a whole lot of sense...at the time.
Cue fish out of water shot...
Now, not so much.
My generalist resume used to attract a lot of employers, I do a lot of stuff very serviceably, I have a lot of experience in a range of areas and I can work alone, with a team - whatevah, I always find something to love about any job, as long as there's a lot of new challenges and I get to flex a bunch of skills. On advice from a recruiter and every employment site I look at these days, it's in my best interest to divide that resume into several separate ones that focus on a specialty set of skills.
Makes sense, it's really a matter of execution now which I find really challenging. I'm not sure why, I can market and promote virtually anything but myself.
On Friday, I sat in on a carpentry consultation between two friends I hooked up to discuss design of a potential coffee table. It's going to cost some big bucks but it will be exactly what my friend wants, an heirloom piece, and one of a kind. But there was a lot of waffling on what the piece should look like, my friend had no issues about spending the cash for the quality but he was pretty unsure about what he wanted until he saw it. And he just hadn't seen it yet. I questioned whether this is an investment he should be making right now, but he wants to go ahead. I've lived in my apartment for a long time and during that time, I've gone through at least 4 different coffee tables. What I have now isn't ideal, but it works. It's taken me at least 10 years, though, to know what I'd want in one of my most used pieces of furniture - and if I had the cash, I could finally, after a decade, tell a furniture designer exactly what I'm looking for.
Last night I talked to a friend who just ended a long relationship with his really wonderful girlfriend. I was confounded by the break-up, they were one of the couples I admired most, each of them delicious on their own, and while I had never questioned whether the two combined was better, it was a whole lot more of a very, very good thing. I thought the split was because she wanted to live elsewhere, getting back together was simply a matter of geographical compromise. But no - the split was because the relationship wasn't quite what they were looking for. This has got to be one of the most torturous decisions a person ever has to make - do you stay in a relationship because it's good enough and try to make it the best it can be? Or is it better to be on your own than settling for less than your ideal?
Maybe deep is the new shallow? Less is the new more? Maybe I'm just getting older and hyper-selective...
I'm now officially late for my hour of panic.
I hate missing this session, it's a fab way to kick off the day:
8-9am - Do dishes, feed cat, make coffee, read e-mail, check bank balance.
9am-9:15am - Wince and wimper.
9:15am-9:17am - Freak-out and check outstanding invoices.
9:17am-9:19am - Gaze at stack of bills and realize it's bigger than stack of outstanding invoices.
9:19am-9:25am - Seize. Drink more coffee.
9:25am-9:36am- Dance break. Panting.
9:36am-9:47am - Look for obscure freelance work. Realize no one needs an official condiment taster.
9:47am-9:53am - Seize. Drink more coffee.
9:53am-9:55am - Make list of everything I was supposed to get done yesterday.
9:55am-9:58am - Make list of everything I was supposed to get done in last 16 years.
9:58am-10:00am - Try to schedule everything that was supposed to get done in the last 16 years into the next 47 minutes.
Clearly, I like to leave the jogging and vitamins for far more moderate people than myself.
Daily blogging, also for the highly moderate folk; I applaud those of you who actually have this grown-upppy, moderation thing all figured out. I too, am hoping to figure it out, I think it's on today's to-do list in fact.
I'd check, but frankly, I have to empty a week's worth of idiotic musings that nobody needs to read out of my brain into the cyberspace vaccuum...not much time...and then there's the hour of panic to catch up on...
Here's what came in the mail yesterday from our friends at LifeMates:
Note torn edge indicating curiosity as to what secret message Life Mates had to share with me. YES! I am still single - they found me! Wheeee! How exciting - Is it a cheque? Is it a prize? Do I get a Brownie Badge for still being single? Have they appointed me Queen of the Singledome?
Apparently not. Actually, it's a letter trying to woo me away from the Singledome for a small sum of money. Well, actually, I don't know if it's a small sum of money, in fact, I'd guess it's a rather large sum of money. I dunno frankly, cause I'm not the least bit tempted to leave the Singledome unless Life Mates pays me large sums of money. I don't want to be wooed out, I'm non-wooable at the moment.
I mean, for the love of dogs (and I've dated a lot of them), why would I want to leave the Singledome? It's quite heavenly here. I make liberal use of its most important rule - go out anywhere you want, anytime you choose without reporting to anyone. I sleep in on weekends without anyone telling me I look like hell warmed over when I wake; I snuggle up to watch Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares at 10pm with a dinner that consists of dirty martinis, popcorn and Pez; I embrace friends from the Singledome who call with 9pm cocktail invitations or pop by with margarita fixings and nod understandably when I'm dressed in a smoking jacket and a Pat Benatar headband; I lipsync to the same Curtis Mayfield tunes 10 times in a row when I go for long walks along the beach; I make decisions according to my horoscope or a magic 8-ball. How can it be wrong when it feels so right?
And while Life Mates didn't say anything really damning about the Singledome, I can't help but feel like they're smearing its good name by trying to lure away my people. There aren't a lot of us, and very few of us who are celebrating or committing to the Singledome; leave us alone, let us enjoy our teensy sweet spot. I don't send notes to my coupled counterparts that say "Still Hooked up with that loser from Accounting?" or "Still Wanting to Smother Her in Her Sleep?" No. We go to your weddings, we go to your showers, we say "Awwww" when you get sentimental about your partners, when you celebrate anniversaries, Valentine's Day, and all the other coupley stuff - us certifed members of the Singledome,well, we're genuinely happy for you when you've fallen in love with another if that's what you want... shouldn't you be happy that we've fallen in love with ourselves?
It's high time the Singledome found its mascot, and after I get to my delayed Hour of Panic, the going will get shopping...
Technically, I'm not supposed to have a green bin. Us renting plebians, a mere 49% of the Toronto population, apparently don't need to compost...yet. I've politely asked the city if those of us who have garbage that is mostly compostable, could purchase a bin, and put it out with our fellow home-owning neighbours, they politely said no.
Now, I recognize the inherent problems with rogue tenants like myself flipping the bird to the city, securing their own green bins and expecting prompt pick-up of compostables - there would be 90 cajillion green bins lining the city streets, the green bin gods would have to spend ages at each apartment building trying to figure out who the hell violated the Green Bin act of '04 by sticking a shoe or a giant teddy bear in their vessel - stress, time, anarchy...
So my compost-rebel neighbours and I are quite discreet with our green bins. We sneak them out to the curb, strictly follow all the rulings of the Green Bin Gods and sneak them back in a timely fashion.
This morning however, I was rejected by the Green Bin Gods.
There sat my rotting fruit and veggie cores while everyone else's bin was propped up nicely empty on the curb. No explanation, no note, nada. I'm just left with a pile of crap wondering where I went wrong - A lot like dating really...
Today's mascot is definitely the Woodsy Owl. I miss him. How come I never see him anymore? He never calls, he never writes....
Recent Comments
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Rockr & Junkii said:
Oh my Gawd! The potato man near Fredericton! You know, since they put in the 4-lane between Moncton and Fredericton,... read more
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Lex said:
Composting... a lot like dating. Great tag line!!!BTW, they let this renter compost. And I know it wasn't my landlord's... read more
on rejection from the Green Bin Gods -
He's awesome. When we used to drive along the river to Fredericton, you'd know you were almost there when you... read more
on Potato