we put our feet just where they had to go

Our final days grow ever darker, but win­ter feels far away when I turn on the A/C in the car as we set off on the scenic route. It’s strange to think I’ll never be here again. I do my best to take my time, to remem­ber the smell of every wooden house and twirl of hair and cozy wind. This was never a way for me to escape my life back home, only a jour­ney I knew I needed to take.

But the nov­elty of grey hair and almond eyes has long run out, and now I’m just a man, try­ing to find out where he belongs.

fountain

A mask that smiles.

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take me somewhere nice

It’s night, and a gen­tle song begins on my bed­side speaker. Until this point, I’d always won­dered who’d be the first to hear this song with me. Whose breath I’d feel on my body as the melody got lost in the dark­ness along with our inhi­bi­tions. It wasn’t a song I’d been sav­ing, only one I never had the chance to share until I found myself here, explor­ing the open fields and windswept moun­tains and towns in between.

Sarah and sweater

 

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The willing suspension of disbelief

The stars are clear out here. A train runs through the cen­tre a few times a day, blar­ing a horn as a warn­ing to peo­ple who may be going from build­ing to build­ing by cross­ing the tracks. It’s a tiny vil­lage in a snow­globe, only the snow hasn’t come.

I haven’t been around this many peo­ple in years. I’ve long won­dered what it’d be like to live this life one more time. To have rit­u­als and the­atre plans and reg­u­lar friends. None of this is real, of course, but I don’t mind pre­tend­ing if only for a lit­tle while.

girl in dorm room

Girlcave. Fucking awesome.

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this same flower that smiles today

I find myself resigned to someone’s care. It’s not an easy kind of con­trol to relin­quish, but lately I trust as lit­tle as pos­si­ble in the future and do my best to go along for the ride. As the old poem goes; be wise, strain the wine, or as Zorba would put it, “DON’T BE DELICATE”. I didn’t plan on liv­ing for­ever anyway.

On a cold night, we keep the only promise made, one of those small won­ders that still make me believe. I fit some­where between needs and wants, tem­po­rary relief and long-term side effects, class and home­work, nib­bled lips and bit­ten tongues.

in a field

 

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a well-watered place

The fall is hold­ing out against the win­ter, trees clutch­ing bright leaves before the chill breaks their grips. It’s won­der­fully warm among such colours, and we walk in the val­leys of Appalachia to take in the smell of moun­tain air as rus­tic hands around us work live­stock and soil. In old Aramaic, Damascus means “a well-watered place”, a fit­ting name as the rain soon grows too heavy to be explor­ing the tiny town, pop­u­la­tion 981.

looking over a bridge

 

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small world

The drive to Toronto is get­ting eas­ier. It’s my only chance to really lis­ten to albums nowa­days1, not to men­tion the com­fort of see­ing famil­iar towns on the way, like the names of sub­way stops you can’t help but mem­o­rize as a child on the way home from school. And in a way, so many years later, Toronto still feels like home. Getting there is a jour­ney, but the peo­ple always make it worth it.

My patience tends to wear out about a quar­ter way in, when it becomes hard to main­tain a rea­son­able speed. It’s a test of whether I can drive safely to see how far I’ve grown as a person.

I fail every time.

Toronto view

The view from Alex’s down­town apart­ment. You can eas­ily tell Yonge Street apart from how brightly it’s lit.

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  1. Editors in both direc­tions this time, cause any­thing I lis­ten to nowa­days is Antje rec­om­mended. []

France, Day 9: Paris

My time here is com­ing to an end, and I start to won­der more and more what the prac­ti­cal­i­ties are of me mov­ing here. Karin asked if I miss any­thing about home (before already giv­ing me one answer, my cat). I thought about it, and decided that I do miss days in my paja­mas where I sat around doing noth­ing, and the smell of my guitar.

creme caramel

 

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returns

The only thing I bought in Britain was this tea can­dle shade of the London sky­line, found in a shop filled with baubles and knick knacks where Mike and Emma took me. They had a feel­ing it was my kind of thing. Funny to think that they knew me so well already in those three days. I love watch­ing the shad­ows dance across the shade in warm colours.

I went through an entire spec­trum of emo­tions there. Through all the won­der and excite­ment were still moments of weak­ness, gid­di­ness, sad­ness, and inse­cu­rity, because there are things you can’t escape by fly­ing to the other side of the world.

I’ve since set­tled back into my old life. The trip didn’t change me, not in any epiphanic way at least. It was more of an affir­ma­tion of myself and the way I’ve been see­ing things.

There were so many times that I was far out of my com­fort zone, thrust into inde­pen­dence, push­ing my lim­its, and that forced me to be objec­tive to keep my wits about me. In those objec­tive moments were objec­tive views of myself, where I began to under­stand that I was respon­si­ble for every­thing that was hap­pen­ing. For all the mem­o­ries and expe­ri­ences and footage and friendships.

And sud­denly, I real­ized, I like me.

fourth show

It was a small open­ing set for a vernissage with a theme called Rumour Has It, fea­tur­ing forty artists in a bike store in Hintonburg.

Jesse had the set list planned around the whole rumour theme, and we started learn­ing the songs when I showed up for rehearsal. But I only found out we were play­ing that night when my cal­en­dar alarm went off to say the show had started. I thought we had an extra day at least to prac­tice, but due to a time zone bug in Google Calendar, the show was instead hap­pen­ing in two hours.

fourth show

Jesse’s dad with his trusty old Martin.

I wasn’t ready at all — men­tally or musi­cally — and if I’d have bailed if didn’t have so much respect for Jesse, only because being under-prepared really isn’t my style. It was worth it just to be a part of what must be the world’s first father-son cover of Piece of Me Britney Spears any­way, which ended up being a great closer for the set. I don’t think I’d be exag­ger­at­ing if I said the four peo­ple watch­ing us rocked their fuck­ing balls (and respec­tive tits) off.

France: Day 3, Chartres

It’s been a great pace so far. No plans, no sched­ule, no goals, no stress. I didn’t want to cram a bunch of activ­i­ties on this trip; I’d much rather take it easy and enjoy myself, so I can absorb as much of the cul­ture as possible.

People would ask me if I was excited to come here, and I couldn’t say that I was, prob­a­bly because there wasn’t any­thing spe­cific I felt com­pelled to see. Sure, I’ll prob­a­bly end up vis­it­ing some of the touristy, must-see sites in Paris, but more impor­tantly, I want to live the life, to be a local for a while.

girl buying bread

The defin­i­tive image of France: a young girl dressed smartly in cha­peau and tights waves to the baker, who comes from around the counter to hold the door for her as she leaves the store. Of uncor­rupted inno­cence, sim­ple rit­u­als, and fresh bread.

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France: Arrival

Getting here was most cer­tainly the most gru­el­ing trip I’ve ever taken. From door to door, it took me 21 hours to travel almost 6000km, car­ry­ing with me nearly 90 pounds of lug­gage (which isn’t that much of a stretch from my body weight).

I was mainly focused on mak­ing it safely and with all my stuff, so tak­ing pho­tos wasn’t a pri­or­ity. Traveling alone is cer­tainly a lot more dif­fi­cult than with a com­pan­ion, because you can’t leave suit­cases with some­one and do some­thing quick like walk down a street to find a sign, or go to the bathroom.

talking to a pigeon

Giving a pigeon a stern talking-to. Birds are brave here.

At Gare Montparnasse.

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third show

Jesse sent me an e-mail this morn­ing, invit­ing me to play a few acoustic tracks on his set tonight at the Elmdale Tavern in Hintonburg. Naturally, I couldn’t say no. I got to his place early, and in the four hours lead­ing up to the show, we worked out the arrangements.

The venue was nice and cozy, with the front tables only a few feet from the stage (which was barely ele­vated itself). There was no kitchen but a bar and a pool table in two main rooms, and this fact meant the place lent itself to peo­ple com­ing to watch some­thing, instead of social­iz­ing and talk­ing over it, as it com­monly hap­pens in a restau­rant or pub with live music.

Self-portrait at 29 10/12

Waiting for sound check.

I wasn’t ner­vous the entire night until the minute up to the very first song; I was doing the main chords and it would have been painfully obvi­ous had I made a mistake.

And since we were unam­pli­fied, we came off the stage and stood at the tables, with Jesse rest­ing his glock­en­spiel on the front-most one. It made the audi­ence all the more vis­i­ble — and me all the more ner­vous — so I just kept my eye on Jesse for tim­ing and vol­ume cues to take my mind off it.

But with a lit­tle more time, expe­ri­ence, and prac­tice, we nailed every track. Also included was an appro­pri­ately spot­lighted group high-five after the Videotape-Write Protected-VCR med­ley, which is cer­tainly the most dif­fi­cult piece (on my end) due to the fact that I’m play­ing the vamp that leads the tran­si­tion between each piece and the tim­ing is really tricky to get down. I also noticed that I kept strum­ming my strings habit­u­ally to make sure I was in tune to avoid the dis­as­ter that hap­pened last time.

A tall, dark-haired gen­tle­man with a cig­a­rette in his hand said, “Good job, buddy. It sounded great.” as I was walk­ing by to load gear in my car. It was a nice lit­tle acknowledgment.

second show

I was sup­posed to hang out with Jesse last week­end. We were going to jam and talk and throw around ideas, and I was really look­ing for­ward to it because we always seem to be doing some­thing when we’re together instead of just chillin.

See, it’s right here on his sched­ule, between Floors and Dinner.

Jesse's schedule

Unfortunately, I devel­oped my annual case of strep throat that day and had to stay away from everyone.

Then, on Friday as I was going back through our e-mail cor­re­spon­dence, I real­ized that Jesse invit­ing me to play ukulele meant play­ing a house party on Saturday. We met up about two hours before we were on and had a very quick rehearsal to work out some parts with­out Nic being able to back us up, as well as extra bits and pieces of songs I fig­ured out over the week. Being so rushed was prob­a­bly a good thing; it kept my mind off the nervousness.

Turns out it was an out­door gig play­ing to a group of hip­sters at a bar­be­cue, and we were open­ing. It didn’t go ter­ri­bly well. At one point in the mid­dle of Write Protected I screwed up the strum­ming so badly that we had to stop the song and restart, but we quickly picked up on a count of four and went on with­out another hitch. Jesse remarked that it was good prac­tice for next time, because prob­lems come up that you never think of when you’re in a new environment.

This time it was a tun­ing peg that some­how got knocked in the mid­dle of the set. I only dis­cov­ered this once the song had started — and I was the only one play­ing so I couldn’t stop. It must have been off by an entire semi-tone cause it totally messed up my senses and I had a hard time telling if I was even play­ing the right chords. It was also night by the time our set ended, and I had a hard time see­ing the frets, which only added to the confusion.

Note to self: strum once to before each song to make sure the instru­ment is in tune.

I did, how­ever, learn from the last show to bring a side-table to use as a step­ping stool. Usually, I sit when prac­tic­ing, but at the 160 Workshops show I had to stand; not being used to the pos­ture meant I was con­stantly adjust­ing the uke in the arm between verses and com­ing in late in the bar as a result. I brought a lit­tle Ikea side-table this time, and it worked really well.

Even with all the glitches, as rushed and under-rehearsed as we were, it was a fan­tas­tic time and a great experience.

The next set was in the base­ment, with a girl and guy look­ing like they were kids dressed up and pre­tend­ing to be Ziggy Stardust, singing to generic elec­tron­ica. And peo­ple were lov­ing it in their slow-nodding, hip­ster kind of way, although the weed and booze may have helped (Audra would later remark to me that it was hard to tell how into it peo­ple were cause of how cool every­one was try­ing to act).

I also missed see­ing a very drunk Tina cor­ner Jesse. I could totally see this being her scene.

Pizza with girls

Check out Audra sport­ing her styl­ish Hurley cap.

Jesse was being inter­viewed later that night and also wanted to stay to see Matt play, so the girls and I headed to grab a bite to eat. Audra bought us all pizza and drinks at a nearby pizze­ria, which had the BEST CRUST I’ve ever tasted.

Before the end of the night, in a good mood and feel­ing safe, I admit­ted to Em my crush on her boyfriend. She took it well.

On Being Tested For Syphilis

  • Doctor, with swab in hand: If you’re going to faint, faint back­wards, not on me. I had a 250 pound foot­ball player almost kill me once.
  • Me, hold­ing down my pants: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

Dinner With The Timmites

Thumbnail: Philly melt
Thumbnail: Quesadilla
Thumbnail: Ham tortellini
Thumbnail: Veggie burger
Thumbnail: Zoom H2

Tim was in town for a pre­sen­ta­tion this week­end, so a few of us went to din­ner at a restau­rant close to where he used to live. It turns out this place used to be called Drumlin’s Pub, which I knew from sec­ond year of uni­ver­sity, ohhh…seven years ago? I dis­tinctly remem­ber being in there once, doing shots at the bar1 while sit­ting next to an older guy who was over $30k in debt to OSAP, telling me to go after the big­ger girls cause they do way more “stuff”. On our drink­ing tours of the city back then, we would always try to find a place that served good, cheap wings, and Strongbow. If I remem­ber cor­rectly, Drumlin’s had hearty honey gar­lic, but no cider.

Now that it’s under new man­age­ment, it has a really generic name — like Sandy Hill Bar And Grill — though it makes up for this fact with much bet­ter pub fare. Such social oppor­tu­ni­ties are great for test­ing out the 360° sur­round capa­bil­i­ties of the Zoom H2 sound recorder I recently pur­chased as an invest­ment towards bet­ter sound pro­duc­tion in my videos.

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (ver­sion 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the lat­est ver­sion here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

In his defence, Tim was sur­prised to dis­cover that Jess has a new boyfriend, and was being (jok­ingly) self-deprecating about his sex life. Next at the table was Reagan2, who was asked about hers. Jess picked up the mic and pointed it at me, per­haps to shift the atten­tion away from Reagan and shield her from embar­rass­ment. Of course, it all plays out much nicer when you have a record­ing of it.

  1. Back then I drank with Iain, so it would have been tequila. []
  2. Note to self: pro­nounced “Ray-gun” []