Back to the Old Dublin
I really meant to behave last night, really I did. But the Old Dublin was packed to the rafters with people, just like it was in the old days. All my friends were reasonable and left early. I'm sure they're doing a little triumphant dance this morning, gloating over my present troubles. How else can I explain this constant thumping sound in my noggin?
But before I go and make more tea, I just want to give a shout out to Aleya and Michelle who promised me they would take a gander at the blog today. I started telling them a fine Irish tale, but we got separated before I could finish it.
Tea... tea.. tea...
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Look Raist... Bunnies
If you don't know what that means, you won't understand why:
You are Raistlin Majere from Dragonlance.
You smirk, torment and look dashing in black
velvet. Ultimate evil magic powers are an
additional bonus.
Which Cool Evil Guy Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Ahh... the old Dragonlance series. I have many of those from my science fiction days. I keep hoping someone will make a movie based on that series.
If you don't know what that means, you won't understand why:
You are Raistlin Majere from Dragonlance.
You smirk, torment and look dashing in black
velvet. Ultimate evil magic powers are an
additional bonus.
Which Cool Evil Guy Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Ahh... the old Dragonlance series. I have many of those from my science fiction days. I keep hoping someone will make a movie based on that series.
Parade Day 2004
As it is tradition with my Montreal Posse, we went out on Sunday to watch the parade and enjoy the company of thousands of Irish Wannabes (pronounced wah-NAH-bees). As our meteorological luck would have it, we had another lovely sunnyish day (for the fifth or sixth year in a row by my reckoning).
Kensington and I met up for brunch at a friend's place in NDG and then headed down to Ste. Catherine's street near Crescent to meet up with Aengus and Drew. The parade itself was okay, with lots of bands and hastily constructed floats. But there's something about having kids with you (Aengus' son and Drew's son) that makes it alot more fun.
After the parade was done, Kensington, Drew, and I followed the parade out to get to the Old Dublin pub. For Kensington and I, having a pint at the Old Dublin is a bit of nostalgia. Back when the Old D was the only pub in town, we spent many an evening there listening to Brendan Nolan play ("Seven Old Ladies!", "No!!!").
We actually spent more time at the Old D than I expected, but that's because we ran into the vivacious Angelica. She was being hailed as the queen that she was by a troupe of American firefighters (some from New York, some from New Hampshire). They had just spent the last few hours marking their territory around Angelica, so they were none too pleased about having two hot Montreal men show up, which pleased me to no end.
At one point, Angelica sat at a booth and invited Kensington and I to sit with her. Almost immediately, the claws came out of these Americans and a couple of them lumbered their way to us. "Who the fuck are you to sit there?" one of them growled (let's call him Biff).
Angelica waved them away with a royal swish of her hand "They're with me guys. They're with me."
They obeyed her, but only grudgingly. But Biff stayed there and swayed uncertainly, pointing a finger at me. "Well don't get comfortable in that seat. And by the way, FUCK YOU!"
It's amazing the amount of judgement that can happen in a split second. Here I am, sitting in my favorite watering hole that I've been visiting for over ten years, being addressed by some yahoo who has been here all of three times in his life, telling me to watch my step. I don't mind telling you that if Biff decided to take me down, it would be no contest. He's a firefighter. There's no way I could take him. I'm not sure I could even take a librarian suffering from a head cold.
But here he is, challenging me. What do I do? If I piss him off, the whupping I'll get will put me in the hospital. But if I don't react in the right way, Biff will be in my face all night trying to provoke me. A rumble in the Old Dublin is a bad scene anyway you cut it.
So my split second decision was made. I squared off against him, looked him in the eye, a leveled a finger back at him "No man, FUCK YOU."
I could feel Kensington tense up next to me, I could see surprise in Biff's eyes. His buddies stopped what they were doing, waiting for his reaction and their cue. The moment hung there between us while Biff mulled it over in his mind. Then his hand shot forward and stopped in mid-air, wating.
"Good answer," he said. I shook his hand firmly and he lumbered back off towards the bar. I looked at Kensington who rolled his eyes.
It's a guy thing. It may sound stupid and infantile to many of you, but it's how men relate to each other. We can fight against it in the interests of social grace, but you can't completely wipe out the male instinctive response.
Then again, maybe I just need to get beaten up to remind me of the risks I take sometimes.
As it is tradition with my Montreal Posse, we went out on Sunday to watch the parade and enjoy the company of thousands of Irish Wannabes (pronounced wah-NAH-bees). As our meteorological luck would have it, we had another lovely sunnyish day (for the fifth or sixth year in a row by my reckoning).
Kensington and I met up for brunch at a friend's place in NDG and then headed down to Ste. Catherine's street near Crescent to meet up with Aengus and Drew. The parade itself was okay, with lots of bands and hastily constructed floats. But there's something about having kids with you (Aengus' son and Drew's son) that makes it alot more fun.
After the parade was done, Kensington, Drew, and I followed the parade out to get to the Old Dublin pub. For Kensington and I, having a pint at the Old Dublin is a bit of nostalgia. Back when the Old D was the only pub in town, we spent many an evening there listening to Brendan Nolan play ("Seven Old Ladies!", "No!!!").
We actually spent more time at the Old D than I expected, but that's because we ran into the vivacious Angelica. She was being hailed as the queen that she was by a troupe of American firefighters (some from New York, some from New Hampshire). They had just spent the last few hours marking their territory around Angelica, so they were none too pleased about having two hot Montreal men show up, which pleased me to no end.
At one point, Angelica sat at a booth and invited Kensington and I to sit with her. Almost immediately, the claws came out of these Americans and a couple of them lumbered their way to us. "Who the fuck are you to sit there?" one of them growled (let's call him Biff).
Angelica waved them away with a royal swish of her hand "They're with me guys. They're with me."
They obeyed her, but only grudgingly. But Biff stayed there and swayed uncertainly, pointing a finger at me. "Well don't get comfortable in that seat. And by the way, FUCK YOU!"
It's amazing the amount of judgement that can happen in a split second. Here I am, sitting in my favorite watering hole that I've been visiting for over ten years, being addressed by some yahoo who has been here all of three times in his life, telling me to watch my step. I don't mind telling you that if Biff decided to take me down, it would be no contest. He's a firefighter. There's no way I could take him. I'm not sure I could even take a librarian suffering from a head cold.
But here he is, challenging me. What do I do? If I piss him off, the whupping I'll get will put me in the hospital. But if I don't react in the right way, Biff will be in my face all night trying to provoke me. A rumble in the Old Dublin is a bad scene anyway you cut it.
So my split second decision was made. I squared off against him, looked him in the eye, a leveled a finger back at him "No man, FUCK YOU."
I could feel Kensington tense up next to me, I could see surprise in Biff's eyes. His buddies stopped what they were doing, waiting for his reaction and their cue. The moment hung there between us while Biff mulled it over in his mind. Then his hand shot forward and stopped in mid-air, wating.
"Good answer," he said. I shook his hand firmly and he lumbered back off towards the bar. I looked at Kensington who rolled his eyes.
It's a guy thing. It may sound stupid and infantile to many of you, but it's how men relate to each other. We can fight against it in the interests of social grace, but you can't completely wipe out the male instinctive response.
Then again, maybe I just need to get beaten up to remind me of the risks I take sometimes.
Monday, March 15, 2004
Attn: Comic Book Gurus
I was reading an article about the Golden Age Sandman that made me want to read this series. I was briefly introduced to Wesley Dodds via Jack Knight (Starman). The character has since then stayed with me and I've always been curious to know more.
I took a trip over to the comic shop to empty out my bag and asked them if they had any trade paperbacks from Gaiman's Sandman series. I was directed to a couple of trades that they had left, but flipping through the book, there was no mention of Wesley Dodds. It was someone other pasty-faced guy (Morpheus?). Drat.
Searching the Net, I found that the only part of the Sandman series that does deal with Dodds was called Sandman Midnight Theatre. Can any of you Comic Book Gurus confirm that this is the Wesley Dodds/Dian Belmont storyline that I'm looking for?
I was reading an article about the Golden Age Sandman that made me want to read this series. I was briefly introduced to Wesley Dodds via Jack Knight (Starman). The character has since then stayed with me and I've always been curious to know more.
I took a trip over to the comic shop to empty out my bag and asked them if they had any trade paperbacks from Gaiman's Sandman series. I was directed to a couple of trades that they had left, but flipping through the book, there was no mention of Wesley Dodds. It was someone other pasty-faced guy (Morpheus?). Drat.
Searching the Net, I found that the only part of the Sandman series that does deal with Dodds was called Sandman Midnight Theatre. Can any of you Comic Book Gurus confirm that this is the Wesley Dodds/Dian Belmont storyline that I'm looking for?
Saturday, March 13, 2004
Visual Confusion
I was just going through the MSN news (or "The World According to Bill" as I like to think of it) when I noticed this picture. It was link to an article on the top 10 dog names (slow news day, I guess).
Now I'm sure this is just me, and I think this is supposed to be a dog, but I can't see it. All I can make out are the legs, but what kind of nuclear accident transformed this hound into the misshapened horror it was when this shot was taken? I'm trying to analyze the orifices in the head to get some point of reference, but it's not working. Does anyone else see a dog's head, or am I having issues with my mother again?
Speaking of confusion, this game confused Toast a while back. It reminds me of that Wesley Save the Enterprise Again episode of Star Trek where everyone gets addicted to a virtual headset game. You're not quite sure why its so addictive, it just is. I've play the game a few times and gotten as many different results.
My confusion knows no bounds, as usual.
I was just going through the MSN news (or "The World According to Bill" as I like to think of it) when I noticed this picture. It was link to an article on the top 10 dog names (slow news day, I guess).
Now I'm sure this is just me, and I think this is supposed to be a dog, but I can't see it. All I can make out are the legs, but what kind of nuclear accident transformed this hound into the misshapened horror it was when this shot was taken? I'm trying to analyze the orifices in the head to get some point of reference, but it's not working. Does anyone else see a dog's head, or am I having issues with my mother again?
Speaking of confusion, this game confused Toast a while back. It reminds me of that Wesley Save the Enterprise Again episode of Star Trek where everyone gets addicted to a virtual headset game. You're not quite sure why its so addictive, it just is. I've play the game a few times and gotten as many different results.
My confusion knows no bounds, as usual.
The Results are In
It's official: we're a hit! We didn't sell out the hall, but we had an audience of about 130 people, which according to Mike Burns, is a bit of a record in this town (you're usually lucky to approach 100 people). The crowd was enthusiastic, attentive, and responsive. After the evening, I spoke with many people who really enjoyed the show, and what was even more impressive was that many people there had never seen a storyteller before!
Nothing really went wrong that night. Unfortunately, we weren't able to tape the evening 'cause the caretaker didn't know how to work the sound system. We were lucky to just get the microphones to work. Fortunately, the Unitarian Church hall is designed for acoustic quality, so everyone could be heard, microphones or not. The stories flowed well, the music was fun and energetic (thanks to the Agincourt Trio!), and the crowd was with us all the way.
After the show was done, a few of us went to the Orchard for pints. I was bouncing off the walls with adrenaline, but a pint and a half later, I was crashing. I had to beg off early (I almost never do that) and headed home. As I was leaving the pub, a gentleman stopped me, thanked me for the great show, and confessed that when I finished my story (an adaptation of Wilde's Selfish Giant), he had a tear in his eye.
I made grown men cry! Score!
It's official: we're a hit! We didn't sell out the hall, but we had an audience of about 130 people, which according to Mike Burns, is a bit of a record in this town (you're usually lucky to approach 100 people). The crowd was enthusiastic, attentive, and responsive. After the evening, I spoke with many people who really enjoyed the show, and what was even more impressive was that many people there had never seen a storyteller before!
Nothing really went wrong that night. Unfortunately, we weren't able to tape the evening 'cause the caretaker didn't know how to work the sound system. We were lucky to just get the microphones to work. Fortunately, the Unitarian Church hall is designed for acoustic quality, so everyone could be heard, microphones or not. The stories flowed well, the music was fun and energetic (thanks to the Agincourt Trio!), and the crowd was with us all the way.
After the show was done, a few of us went to the Orchard for pints. I was bouncing off the walls with adrenaline, but a pint and a half later, I was crashing. I had to beg off early (I almost never do that) and headed home. As I was leaving the pub, a gentleman stopped me, thanked me for the great show, and confessed that when I finished my story (an adaptation of Wilde's Selfish Giant), he had a tear in his eye.
I made grown men cry! Score!
Friday, March 12, 2004
Big Night
So tonight's the big night: The Irishman's Tale at the Unitarian Church of Montreal (5035 de Maisonneuve, Vendome metro) at 7:30 pm. I've been getting calls all this week from folks all over the city, asking about the show, where they can get tickets, and whatnot. It has the potential to sell out (200 folks). *crossing fingers*
If this works, I already have plans to do another benefit show for a bigger charity like the Montreal Children's Hospital, the Lakeshore General, or the Missing Children's Network. It would be great to be able to fill a hall like the Oscar Peterson (600 seats) and raise money to a good cause.
I just want to be able to tell stories to a larger audience. If we can draw in more people by making it a benefit show and raise some much needed funds, then all the better.
Wish us luck tonight! Oooh... I'm already getting the pre-stage jitters!
So tonight's the big night: The Irishman's Tale at the Unitarian Church of Montreal (5035 de Maisonneuve, Vendome metro) at 7:30 pm. I've been getting calls all this week from folks all over the city, asking about the show, where they can get tickets, and whatnot. It has the potential to sell out (200 folks). *crossing fingers*
If this works, I already have plans to do another benefit show for a bigger charity like the Montreal Children's Hospital, the Lakeshore General, or the Missing Children's Network. It would be great to be able to fill a hall like the Oscar Peterson (600 seats) and raise money to a good cause.
I just want to be able to tell stories to a larger audience. If we can draw in more people by making it a benefit show and raise some much needed funds, then all the better.
Wish us luck tonight! Oooh... I'm already getting the pre-stage jitters!
Thursday, March 11, 2004
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh
New chair has finally arrived. Bureau en Gros told me they'd deliver it on Wednesday night, but they were a no-show. They finally delivered it this afternoon and what a difference. Yay!
Now I just need to put my shelves together and find a place for them. No more books on the floor!
New chair has finally arrived. Bureau en Gros told me they'd deliver it on Wednesday night, but they were a no-show. They finally delivered it this afternoon and what a difference. Yay!
Now I just need to put my shelves together and find a place for them. No more books on the floor!
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Chairs
Mental note: those kneel chairs that are supposed to be better for your back will improve your posture while destroying your knees. Apparently, you're only supposed to kneel in this chair for a couple of hours a day instead of pretty much all day. Owie.
I'm getting my new chair delivered tonight along with a much needed set of bookshelves that I have suddenly realized I don't have space for. Must do some rearranging in my apartment.
Actually, none of my bookshelves seem to match. Does that add charm to my apartment or is it an assault upon the eye? I never know.
Mental note: those kneel chairs that are supposed to be better for your back will improve your posture while destroying your knees. Apparently, you're only supposed to kneel in this chair for a couple of hours a day instead of pretty much all day. Owie.
I'm getting my new chair delivered tonight along with a much needed set of bookshelves that I have suddenly realized I don't have space for. Must do some rearranging in my apartment.
Actually, none of my bookshelves seem to match. Does that add charm to my apartment or is it an assault upon the eye? I never know.
Sunday, March 07, 2004
Subconscious Blogging
I had a couple of strange, yet common, dreams last week. We've all had these types of dreams before, right? The ones where you find yourself at work or on the street clad in nothing but your boxers or less wondering "How the hell did this happen?"
One dream I had I was walking home from work and I when I got down to MacDonald and Queen Mary, I suddenly realized that I was wearing only my boxer shorts. I immediately jumped into a bush and tried to figure out how I was going to get home without being arrested when I woke up. The second dream was that I was at a costume party, and for some reason, I was wearing a sandwich board that looked like a playing card (a bit of Alice in Wonderland).
Both times, as I struggled to deal with these new situations in my dreamstate, I said to myself "I'm going to blog about this when I get home."
So here I am. Therapeutical blogging! Bueller? Bueller? Freud?
I had a couple of strange, yet common, dreams last week. We've all had these types of dreams before, right? The ones where you find yourself at work or on the street clad in nothing but your boxers or less wondering "How the hell did this happen?"
One dream I had I was walking home from work and I when I got down to MacDonald and Queen Mary, I suddenly realized that I was wearing only my boxer shorts. I immediately jumped into a bush and tried to figure out how I was going to get home without being arrested when I woke up. The second dream was that I was at a costume party, and for some reason, I was wearing a sandwich board that looked like a playing card (a bit of Alice in Wonderland).
Both times, as I struggled to deal with these new situations in my dreamstate, I said to myself "I'm going to blog about this when I get home."
So here I am. Therapeutical blogging! Bueller? Bueller? Freud?
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