This post has been Postponed tooooooooooooooo ... now

The word "postponed" is coming up way to often lately. I've been chosen to be on a team for a new contract that was supposed to start today, but it's been postponed for a month. This contract couldn't have come at a better time, because my company ain't doing that great and I really need some new work. Working this particular client also means long-term work, which means that I could be working there for up to two years if I play my cards right (ie: I don't sucker-punch the president of the company because he's taking to long to photocopy his secretary's bum).

But the word "postponed" also came up today because the Book Launch I was supposed to get in Quebec city has been pushed off. It seems there's a book fair going on in Quebec city this coming weekend and the bookstore owner doesn't have enough staff to run the store and be present at the fair. So he's suggested to postpone the book launch until September and coordinate it with a school tour.

Overall, not going to Quebec city on Saturday is a good thing because I'm leading a public ritual for Bealtane that night (for Montreal Sabbats) and it's a bit risky to be so far away from Montreal (2.5 hours east).

But all is not lost! I am speaking with the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec and they might be interested in putting together an evening of storytelling to promote the book (old Quebec city boy does good).

Still, I was disapointed today. I moped while playing WoW. I really need things to go my way now. Where is that good luck breeze?

Pillow Fumble

We were lazing in bed this morning, but I was pretty much awake. Ms. Carotte needed some more Zzzs, so I decided to get up and let her sleep some more.

Me: "I'm keeping you awake, aren't I?"

Her: "Maybe... zzzzz"

Me: "I'll just get up and let you sleep."

Her: "No, no... You can keep talking. I can still sleep and keep listening to you."

Me: (chuckling) "Sure... Why should today be any different?"

Newton: the Dark Cat Returns

Sometime late last year, I took a couple of photos of my cat Newton. Yes, I one of those owners who takes cutsie pics of his pet as if it were some kind of substitution for children. Just be glad that slide carrousels are going out of style.

I caught Newton between expressions which made him look a bit demonic. Then, as I clicked from site to site, I found the My Cat Hates You website. So in January, I sent the website a photo of Newton and hoped for the best.

Four months later, Newton has risen to a super-star of Evil! Click here to see his demonic side that I live in fear of every day.

Men in Retreat

Last weekend, I went to a spiritual retreat for men. No, I wasn't out fishing. No, I wasn't looking at stereo equipment. No, I wasn't out buying a car. I was at an honest-to-goodness Men's Retreat organized by the illustrious Pagan Owl of Ottawa.

We were supposed to be 30 guys, only eight of those people turned out. It kinda threw the scheduled events out the window, but the time spent was more organic (No, we weren't smoking pot) so we just flowed from breakfast to discussion to preparing for the evening's ritual to supper and so on. I had hoped for more spiritual discussion and development, but just having a weekend with other pagan men was strengthening on its own merits.

But we weren't entirely without the ladies. Our youngest, a goth in the making at the tender age of 15, was tempted away by the daughter of the owner of the land (Whispering Pines in Ontario). This is why we don't have women at a Men's Retreat. They are too distracting!

Saturday night was clear and a bit chilly, but being way out in the country, we could make-out most of the stars in the sky. It would have been more star-filled if the moon wasn't so bright. Fortunately, Rick decided to bring his telescope to add to the star-gazing activity.

I had never used a telescope to look at the moon and I was amazed at the detail you could make out. You could clearly see every crater, every mountain range, every boulder on the moon's surface. I brought my digital SLR camera with me and by adjusting the manual focus, I was able to use the telescope to take close-up photos of the moon.

You can see these photos at my Photoblog. Rick (being an avid astonomer himself) was so amazed at the quality of the photographs that he submitted them for review to the Sky and Telescope magazine (an American astronomy publishing company). Wouldn't that be cool: my first published photos!

Sorry for the long silence folks. Life is finally starting to pick up again, so I'm hoping to have more to say as the days get filled.

Culture Costs

We had our Tristan and Iseult show this evening and it was a beautiful night of storytelling. Melanie Ray was outstanding and mesmerizing as she told this story of action, adventure, and tragic romance. I had never heard the story in its entirety before, so this was a real treat.

The story of Tristan and Iseult has, over the years, been broken down into shorter individual stories and I recognized quite a few of them. It was great hearing them all linked together as a single epic telling.

However, we needed 60 people to attend to make ends meet. I had received 40 RSVPs and I had hope that the remaining 20+ people would just show up, but in the end, we only had 25 people in attendance. The missing 15 people either cancelled at the last minute or just never showed up. Drat.

I'd like to say that this will be the last big show we're putting on, but we have a largish charity concert taking place mid-May (for the Montreal Children's Hospital). After that, I think we need to focus our efforts on smaller, less expensive venues. We can't afford to keep running these shows at our own expense.

We need Canada Council monies to make this work. It's unfortunate to say, but promoting culture is not a money-making venture. To keep English storytelling alive, we need government support.

The grant applications are being filled out as we speak. Keep your fingers crossed.

The Principal's Office

I've been taking business trips back to my home town lately and, filled with nostalgia, I've strolled the halls of my old edumacational institutions. My first stop was to CEGEP St. Lawrence (Champlain Regional College) and I stopped in to visit some of my old teachers. Surprisingly, many of them were still there and have become slightly greyer in the foliciles than I am now (which isn't saying much really because the men in my family always grey prematurely).

My second stop was mostly for business: St. Vincent's Elementary. I was hoping to meet with the principal and try to get a few storytelling gigs at my old Alma Mater. I hadn't made an appointment, so the secretary said if I was willing to wait 15 minutes, the principal would be willing to meet with me.

Sitting just outside of the principal's office, I was momentarily overwhelmed with anxiety. I was taken back to a dark day in Grade 2 (1976) when the teacher caught me in some kind of misdeed (I can't remember what exactly), so I was sent to see the principal.

I remember feeling like I was walking the Green Mile, each step taking me closer to my doom. My mind was racing with excuses that would miraculously save me from the dire punishment that awaited me, but nothing was really coming to mind. I briefly considered hiding out by the jungle gym in the recess yard and hoped that the teacher would forget all about the transgression, but (fortunately) I didn't take the flight option.

I finally arrived to the secretary's office and said with a squeak "I'm here to see Mr. O'Connor". The secretary clicked her tongue, rolled her eyes, and gave me a firm look. "Sit over there and wait. You should be ashamed."

From my perspective as a 7 year old, Mr. O'Connor was a giant man. Tall, thin, unforgiving. These were the days when the principal's had the power to spank children and Mr. O'Connor had huge, paddle-like hands. Just the thought of this man rearing back to spank me was (usually) enough to keep me on the straight-and-narrow.

But in the end, I was spared a spanking from Big Bird (as we called him). He gave me a lecture in that booming voice of his and he bent down to give me a stern look in the eye. Extra homework and a call to my parents was my punishment.

And I was thinking about that day as I sat in the same seat just outside the principal's office. Sure, I was wearing a suit and tie and Mr. O'Connor had long-since retired. But I couldn't help but smile as I watched the kids march past me on their way to gym or for their drink of water, whispering to each other, hoping the teacher didn't catch them. Things haven't changed that much.

My meeting with the principal did bear fruit though. They've agreed to buy a few copies of the book for their library and I'm writing a proposal to do a few shows for the kids in April. It'll be great to stroll through those halls again and maybe...

I'll be able to stay for recess.

Equalizer

Whenever I get frustrated with seeing too many Beautiful People(tm) with their shiny cars, toned and buffed bodies, designer clothes, and rich lifestyle (where nothing seems to go wrong), I just head down to the Old Port of Montreal and watch these Beautiful People try rollerblading for the first time.

With newfound wheels on their feet, their balance, poise, and confidence goes skidding out the window. Hands outstretched and legs rigidly propelling them upward then downward, the blades are a great equalizer.

I laugh myself silly and feel no guilt. I may pop the occasional gummy worm in my mouth while I watch them make their wobbly way down the sidewalk, but that's the extent of it.

If that's wrong, I don't want to be right. Is it summer yet?

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.