Happy Parade Day!

I feel so weird celebrating St. Patrick's Day on the 13th when the 20th is the Sunday closest to the actual St. Patrick's Day. Don't these people believe in tradition?

I'm told the reason behind it is that next Sunday is Palm Sunday, so that wouldn't have worked out. I'm not sure I'm comfortable mixing religion in with St. Patrick's day...

*waggling eyebrows in a sarcastic way*

So enjoy yourselves on this day where everyone can be as Irish as they'd like to be. I really hope that the clouds part and let a little sunshine in before the parade starts today. It really makes St. Patrick's Day feel like the first day of spring and I think we all really need to feel that nowadays.

And for your amusement, here's a little video that Aengus sent me. Please don't bother soapboxing me on how Guinness has commercialized this holiday: I've already heard it.

Same-sex Storytelling

We're starting to get calls by people interested in the Tristan & Iseult show being held on March 24th. I've faxed flyers to all the local media, but I need to follow up with some phone calls. We need to get at least 60 people in those seats to make ends meet, so I really hope we get a good turn out.

I got a call today by a fella who said he was very interested in the show, but wanted to know if the only show being done was at the Unitarian Church. I told him it was a one-night only show, so he replied he wasn't interested because "I find that the banner they have is in poor taste."

Puzzled, I asked what he meant by that, and he replied "They have a banner out front that says that they support same-sex marriages and I find that is in poor taste."

"It's not the Unitarian Church that is putting on the show," I replied. "We're just renting the hall for the show."

"That doesn't matter," he returned. "I don't want people like that making money if they support such a thing."

Wow. I've never... just... Wow.

Houston: The Book Has Been Launched

We had our book launch last night at Hurley's pub and it was a tremendous success. Our rough head counts came up with a crowd of 50 people and the room was filled to capacity (with about a dozen people sitting in the room next door). We even managed to sell a few books and made some interesting contacts for future storytelling gigs. Fingers are being crossed as we speak.

Aside from the bagpipe player not showing up, the night went without a hitch. Our invited tellers held the crowd spellbound (when Mike Burns was telling his stories, I remember thinking that I had so far to go before I attained his level of skill) and they were a great addition to the evening.

Zimmerman and I performed admirably, although I found the strength of our performance increased as the night progressed. Zimmerman told the story of Hodja and the Sack (my request) and he was dead on. When I told the story of The Hall of Wonders (Zimmerman's request), I tapped into something that I always quest for, but rarely attain: being in The Zone. If I haven't blogged about The Zone yet, I really need to.

The crowd was fantastic too. They were with us every step of the way, present for every detail in the stories. It's a storyteller's dream to have a crowd like that and I'll remember that night with great affection.

So I must offer heartfelt gratitude to everyone who showed up and shared the evening with us. You all made that evening special.

Recycle Rage

PSA: Make sure you get your recycling out on time so that the recycle guy doesn't have to deal with you personally.

I just missed the recycling truck the other day, so I had to jog up the street to catch him. When I gave him my bin, he snarled at me that I hadn't sorted the recyclables properly. Then he blasted me for trying to slip a cardboard box into the recycling. With the look he gave me, I was sure he was about to clock me for it. He ranted and raved for a few seconds about how stupid people are with their recycling as he smashedg the bottles and tossed the cardboard box at my head.

I'm sorting my recycling better now and trying not to put things that don't belong. But if you cross the recycling guy, watch out: he's liable to take every frustration about every irresponsible recycler out on you.

Update:

Kudos to Stephanie for providing us with mucho gusto information on Montreal's recycling guidelines (comments can be edumacational!). BTW, Stephanie is a freelance journalist whose articles regularly appear in Hour:

Pamphlets on how to recycle are available at your local Eco-quartier or at the Coop La Maison Verte on Sherbrooke St. W. If you're not sure what gets recycled, call Access Montreal or your local Eco-quartier.

The rules are simple. Paper and smaller cardboard boxes on one side; milk cartons, juice boxes, metal and glass containers on the other. They accept every kind of plastic with a number on it except number 6. They also accept bread bags and plastic grocery bags. They love it if you put bread bags in plastic grocery bags. A good idea on windy days: load the heavier stuff on top of the lighter stuff - for instance put the plastics/metal/glass etc. stuff on top of newspapers and cardboard.

Containers should be rinsed so there's no food or other residue and so they don't smell.

For a list of Montreal recycling guidelines on the City's Web site, see: http:// servicesenligne.ville.mon...yclablesAng.jsp

What I don't understand is the pamphlet I have says they don't accept aluminum foil but take cans, pie plates etc. The French section of the Web site says they do, so long as it's clean.

Big cardboard boxes are supposed to folded down, tied with string and placed next to your bin.

The guys picking up the recycling are subcontractors and the trucks are set up so they put paper/carton on one side, glass/plastic/metal on the other. I understand they're paid per pickup.

Recycling from the Island of Montreal ends up at a sorting centre at the Complexe Environnementale St-Michel. It looks like a factory - the materials are dumped on the floor, machines sort them first then they whizz along on conveyor belts for hand sorting by employees. Forklifts push materials into bales.

What gets recycled depends on the market for materials.Recyc-Québec, the Quebec government department handling this, offers plenty of info (in French) on their Web site

http://www.recyc-quebec.gouv.qc.ca

Weird Dreams with Pincers

This morning, I woke up feeling guilty. I couldn't shake this horrible feeling of guilt, even after the dream was done and I realized it was a dream.

Last night, I dreamt that my friend Ceri had been magically transformed into a lobster and tossed into the river. Someone else had saved her from the river, gave her to me for safe-keeping, and said "Just hang onto her until we find the right spell to change her back."

For some reason, Ceri the Lobster was partially frozen, so I had to keep her in my breast pocket (she was a tiny lobster) so she would thaw out. Passer-bys would inquire as to how my friend Ceri the Lobster was doing and I would reply indignantly "She's a crustacean, I'll have you know!"

I went home to my apartment and put her in a bowl of warm water to thaw her out, but my mother had a bag of lobsters and she was preparing to cook them for supper. Even though I explained to my mother that this was really Ceri and not a lobster to be cooked, she kept trying to toss Ceri the Lobster into her pot. I re-pocketed Ceri and headed out to the park.

Once I got to the park, a friend invited me to play soccer, so I did. I figured some exercise would help raise my body temperature and help thaw out the lobster in my pocket. However, at the end of the game, I looked into my pocket and Ceri the Lobster was gone!

I searched all over the park, but I couldn't find her. Then her husband started phoning me and mutual friends started popping up all over, asking me if I had seen her lately. Just as I thought I couldn't take the guilt anymore...

... I woke up.

Disgruntled Acquisition Move

Seeing as how the voters on the upper East and West coasts didn't get Kerry into the White House, I think Canada should send delegates down to the movers and shakers in those states and organize a group-secession so that they can become part of Canada (territories at first, provinces later).

It's not such a stretch, is it? After all, we used to own much of that land in the first place. It was only a loan gone awry, so it's time we start reclaiming.

The problem is that we'd need someone a bit more charismatic as our leader to secure the deal. Would you abandon your Apple Pie heritage to join his Dodge Ball team? I wouldn't and I live here! That's a problem with the Canadian political system: we have a general disdain for everyone actively involved, but once they retire, respect begins to grow (or fester).

I think it has something to do with our national obsession with Heritage Moments. We prefer to look back fondly rather than appreciate currently (but we do also enjoy speculating cynically).

With that wee bit of historical real estate settled, I'd then give the natives New York state. It would amuse me greatly to see New York renamed to New Kahnewake.

The more I think about it, the more I think we need a King rather than a prime-minister.

Printed, Bound, and Stuck Together

The books are finally done and delivered (thanks to Relux), all 500 of them. We got them delivered to the house on Tuesday night, the books in one set of boxes and the CDs in another set of boxes. It only took a few hours to stick each CD at the back of each book.

So now they are ready for sale and we've already sold 15 copies (not bad for the first week). Our official book launch is on March 6th 2005 at Hurley's Pub at 7pm. We're going to have a 2-hour show with a few invited guests (Mike Burns, Jack Nissenson) and I'll see if I can get a couple of musicians to make an appearance.

I'm very excited about this new publication. We've been futzing with this book for months, so I'm relieved that it's finally moving into the next stage. I figure it'll take the better part of 2005 to sell them all, but I'm already speaking with Canada Council to help me with the next book.

The printer even gave us an extra 30 CDs (no charge), so we'll be using them to put together a press kit that we can send to festivals and get some new gigs. Wouldn't that be cool?

Very excited.

The Memorial

I attended Deniz's memorial last night and it really helped bring some closure to her death. Her mother and brother were there, as well as 150+ people whose lives she touched. Deniz sang in a choir that practiced every Thursday night (it seems that most of the choirs in Montreal all practice on the same night), so the choir sang during the memorial while family and friends shared their memories of Deniz (including an ambassador from the Turkish Consulate!).

There are two passages I want to leave you with before I bring this to a close. The first one was read during the memorial and the second was not read, but I remembered it clearly during the service. It describes Deniz's presence at that memorial so perfectly, I could almost hear her whisper it to me.

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Psalm 23:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. 2 He maketh me to lie down in green [1] pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. 3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. 4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest [2] my head with oil; my cup runneth over. 6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. [3]

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Do not stand at my grave and weep.
Mary Frye (1932)

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there, I did not die!
===========

Good night.

Is it that Age Already?

I've been struggling with this post for the past few days, writing and rewriting it, pondering, remembering.

I found out yesterday that I lost a friend over last weekend. Granted, we had drifted apart a few months ago, mainly over a difference of opinion, but I wished her nothing but a happy life. I kept reading her livejournal, was concerned over how much time she was spending at work, and I knew she could get through it somehow.

She was strong, smart, and beautiful. She had depth and substance. She was artistic and spiritual. She also had a difficult time communicating with people, so that might explain why we couldn't find that common ground. But even though we couldn't make that friendship work the way I had hoped, I knew she was a fantastic person and I couldn't regret the time I invested.

Deniz was good people and she didn't deserve to die at 27 years old, especially when a doctor she was suffering from nothing more than the flu (which was a misdiagnosis). I know I'm not the only person who basked in her smile and that's how I'll remember her best.

See you in the summerlands Deniz. I'll bring the Vindalou.

Hiss, Hiss, Spit

Newton's been acting up lately. I had a few people over last night for a meeting and one of them had been around three cats before coming to my place. Newton almost never hisses, but when she picked him up, he hissed at her. However, he was perfectly sociable afterwards.

Newton's a very social cat and loves people/attention. When I play with him, he may gently bite me, but never hard. However, I've come to the realization that it's because he knows me. If other people he doesn't know try to rough-house with him, he'll bite harder. I have to remember to tell people that.

Today, he got out of the apartment and into the basement. This shouldn't be a problem except that I share the basement with my landlord who has a couple of cats of his own. We've had incidents before and I can tell you, they don't get along.

So I went down into the basement to look for him. I could hear him hissing at something and then caught the flash of his eyes from beneath the stairs. There was a nasty growl coming from the other side and when I went to check, there was another cat poised to attack.

I knew better than to reach under the stairs for Newton when he's like this. I tried to coax him out, but he was completely freaked out. He was breathing hard, drooling slightly, and his tail was bushy (twice its original size). So I got some wet food in a dish and led him back upstairs. He's fine now, but still a bit skittish.

This worries me because Ms. Carotte and I have been thinking about getting a kitten. How is Newton going to react to having another cat in the house? I know there's a period of adjustment needed for both cats to get used to each other, but I don't want to end up with one cat who owns the apartment while the other spends his life hiding under the bed.