To the EAST!

Hippies do it best. Over this past weekend, I've come to revisit the lifestyle I just recently got a hardcore taste of in Tennessee. A bud here in Montreal had this 36 hour party to get to in the Eastern Townships... and I've got a car. It was a dangerous mix. So I invited the girl I have a crush on and she brought her girlfriend. Oh the antics!!

Everything went uphill from there. Had I not lost my tin of Burt's Bees lip balm, I'd say the weekend was PERFECT. Crush and I swam through bottles of hard, hard alcohol (though not liquor). 11.1% Blithering Idiots were chugged, 13.5% Merlot was pounded, and we chased all that good shit with 8.6% Boris Bold tall boys. So we got so hammered by the time the djay threw on Punjabi MC we had no qualms 10 minutes later when the djay again threw on Punjabi MC!!! That's how drunk we were. But did it make a difference? No, because everyone there was zooted on MDMA and even crush's girlfriend was given psychadelic juice at 8am before she hit the hay. Sunday was one massive hangover in paradise.

On the drive back the girls hit the lake. And then we stopped at A&W and I got the highlight of the trip. Me and crush were going apeshit over my iced tea in a chilled A&W rootbeer glass/mug.

Is it any wonder I'm sitting here in front of this laptop on the verge of a major depression now that that happiness is over. It was literally the best trip of my whole entire life.

Alright, anyway, it's off to the Jazz Fest to try and recoup some sanity in good music. Apparently, a Rocksteady show is beckoning the friend who brought me out to the East. Fingers crossed it'll be good.

Oh Canada!

I love Canada! Canadians? Not so much, but oh Canada; I'm pretty fond of thee.

The first of July was Canada Day. The Old Port of Montreal threw a massive dance party with fireworks and shenanigans. It blew my mind. It was so much more fun than the lousy Macy's 4th of July fireworks thing on the East River. At the end, the MC told the crowd exactly where and when we could find them again: July 1st, 2010. The energy was over flowing and everyone waved their Canada flags. I was happy.

So I walked over to St. Catherine's and saw the Jazz Festival in full swing. St. Catherine's was closed to automobile traffic and the whole area was one big Jazz promenade with free live performances too. And the music was nothing to scoff at. It was great! The weather was great. Montreal is a great town. But the people here are a little less than great. I was alone. Even though this was Canada's independence day (or something similar) and Montreal has actually become a jazz festival, I couldn't convince anyone to go anywhere with me.

In Brooklyn I'd have any number of kooks willing to run around to all corners of the city for the corniest of fare. Here, Montreal has AMAZING things happening, all within walking distance, and everyone seems to be avoiding me.

But I love you still Canada. Wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life here. All I really need is you.

And I've come all the way from America to swoon over an American lesbian. Have I hit rock bottom? Almost. Almost.

Okay, so a few nights ago, I'm walking home from St. Jean Baptiste Day (a whole 'nother story) all half drunk at 3-something in the morning when I come across not one, but TWO skunks! The first one had it's rear... reared and ready to spray. The second, a couple blocks later, was frightened to bits when it saw me and looked very sketchy. Why are skunks soooooo scared? They've got barely any predators. And they can hardly see. What's there to frighten these crepuscular chickens?

So St. Jean Baptiste Day is like the national fete of Quebec. It's their sort of Independence Day. That day I hit a bar-b-que and a bridge burner party in Mile End. Fun and drink and crazy, crazy happiness were in abundance. I got invited to an "after party" where I drank warm Carlsberg beer too. All this to walk home and scare the living nightlights out of some skunks.

The story, apparently, is that Quebecois celebrate St. Jean Baptist then protest Canada Day by making everyone move. Like some cacaphonous symphony, everyone's lease in Quebec ends on July 1st, so everyone is so busy moving and not so busy feting. AND!!!! Everyone has to bring their own stoves and fridges and washers and dryers into their new abodes. CRAZY! I am crazy about this town... and this one terribly cool gal who likes other gals. Help me.

Computing is the new Prohibition

Sorry folks, I spilled beer on my laptop. I'm now sans computer. I will be minimizing my presence on these here Internettings for the forseeable future. Once I am able to fix my doohickey, however, I may just be chock full of half interesting anecdotes to recount.

Until not so soon...

2 Live Roo

Bonnaroo! Such an epic start to my summer of 2009. Manchester, Tennessee in mid June is like Mecca in the year 600 or so.

Highlights of this year's festival include a little known band called Hockey, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were sharp. The guitarist, Nick, either broke his electric guitar or it was out of tune for Maps. He ended up swapping instruments and they played the acoustic version. Then he broke his electric guitar at the show's end. TV on the Radio rocked the house. They started the set perfectly by going right into Love Dog. Phoenix is a band full of rock stars. They know what the fuck they're doing. Listzomania is also a very appropriate way to start a show. The lead singer ended the show crowd surfing (right by me). I missed the Crystal Castles who followed Phoenix (I hear their show was even better). Girl Talk finished up. CRAZY! Jessica Lea Mayfield autographed my t-shirt. The Heartless Bastards played a masterful Sunday afternoon set. Moe. rocked until 6 in the am. MGMT was packed to the gills. Booker T. made a fat white guy in the bleachers say "Damn!" And Vertigo made everyone shake like the Parkinson's ward during the '88 earthquake.

I got more shit to throw up here, but this is it for now.

Gone Phishing

Dearest reader. Your fearless egocentric blogger (that's me) is road tripping into the wilds of the US Interstate system and won't be back for well over a week. I intend to be 'off the grid,' as those of us in the know say, for at least a couple of those days.

Fear not, upon my return, I hope to whelm you with tales of forlorn love and skulduggery. Until such time, feel free to click on all the masterfully contrived links to the right.

Godspeed.

Staying outta trouble

So it turns out bike co-op volunteer is Papa Smurf. She likes to caution folks to "stay outta trouble." Such good stuff, she is. We hung out all day yesterday. We ended the day drinking a beer in the park, Boris Bold no less. And we chatted and laughed and made fun of things. I wish I were 23. I'd have asked her out. Did I just type that?

Yeah, yeah. And I meant it too. She's just so smurfin' cute and cooooool. She wanted like a hand shake or some shit when we left the park, but I gave her a big smurf instead. Seriously, she makes Montreal so much sweeter... and she's an American.

Alright, enough with the dreamy shit. Montreal seems to be in full festival swing. The Jazz Festival starts soon, and they've got a beer festival going right now. So as part of the beer fest, which you can assume I'm all about, I show up to hang out with this other chick. She's crazy, and a wreck. So I get there when the thing ends and we Metro it to her place for an indoor bar-b-que (that's how much of a WRECK she is). The beer fest, in case you're wondering (which, for obvious reasons, you weren't), was not warranting of my visit. They pour about 2 ounces of beer per $1 ticket. That's just highly inconceivable. I'd only ever go to check out drunk Quebecoise chicks. Anyway, the indoor bar-b-que was in a part of town called Snowdon or something. I live in a part of town called Verdun. Google Map it. In fact, Yahoo! Map it! Because, inevitibly, the metro closed on me and I had to walk that distance. With plantar faciistis, no less. Good thing I was sufficiently drunk.

Damn! I just wrote, to one of the most aloof human beings I've ever met (who is a teacher) that one has to be, in the classroom, more Hillary Clinton than Albert Einstein sometimes. In other words, I was suggesting she temper knowledge with diplomacy. Man, can I toot my own horn!

Alright. So I know I'm no good for anyone. I'm marginalized by weak self efficacy, advancing age, and a lack of charm. But I have a crush on a girl and it feels so good.

The Creature Feature

What a fiasco!!!

So I had my first shift as a bike cooperative volunteer. There's bound to be some sort of gaffe, right?

Of course I'm expecting NOTHING to run smoothly. Yeah, ideally, I'd be in this dimly lit room with a bunch of grease monkeys toiling away for a few hours and working those wrenches. I get there on time after sucking down a cup of coffee. I throw on an apron. People throw bikes up on the racks and know most of what they're doing. I point, nod, agree, etc, etc.

Then the problems strike. Women! They show up, they grab tools, and they go to work on their bikes. Problem? Yeah, they're all so cute. Wait. Wait! They're way cuter when they've got grease all over their hands and grit on their cheeks. It's problematic. It's Chernobyl. Free Tibet!

One of the volunteers is so super cute and mentioned something about me being cute (which was obviously her way of being funny), but super nice and it was all exactly what I envisioned of my trip to Montreal (see tags, below).

So, problem? Yes! Yes, yes, yes. So very, very troubling. I'd ask, rhetorically, for someone to shoot me, but Canadians don't wield guns the way Americans do.