[out of season]

And here I thought it was time for Montreal's Jazz Fest -- oh wait, it is, I'm just not there yet. Usually, every year I manage to transform the event into my unofficial vacation, I'm not complaining 'cause I have work, I just feel litterally out-of-place -- at the moment anyway. I'm not the biggest jazz enthusiast, the atmosphere makes the festival anyway, but I do enjoy the odd laid back blues jazz now and then. They tried to tie-in a lot of acid jazz/dub acts back in 2002 but there were complaints from many jazz purists, damn shame (which led to a very bland 2003 festival on that front, hopefully it'll pick up again). DJ Shadow cancelled his appearance this year but at least I still get to see Cat Power on Sunday (solo at that). As soon as the Little Italy festivities die down, I'll head on out to the Jazz Fest, might get that spirit back once I get there. It's hard to describe but I really rely on it. Ugly-up-close-dangerously-honest photos are in this year (says me). The ugly aging busted up smoker in black, shoulders pretending not to bear an overbearing weight of souvenirs and stress. What a wreck. I'm sure children assume I'm the personification of walking exhaustion -- I swear I'm still optimistic. Smoking better not be prohibitted on the Festival premises this year, I swear I'll find a way to spread plenty of other lesser-known second hand poisons on site, no malicious intent, just a friendly reminder (either that or I'll cross-dress and hit on elderlies, I mean -- wouldn't you?). My natural reactionary thoughts I guess. Things are commonly more black or white than gray. There are easy answers to many "supposed" though questions, I mean, isn't it obvious why the 60's generation french-québecois culture has an enermous aversion for Catholicism? If you blame them then kill yourselves, you are worthless human beings and you just add to the problem. So hey! See y'all at the Jazz Festival (search for exhaustion, rain or shine).

The Fatigue Show 4 [01]

It was at an e***** party in 2001, where I played a few songs, a songwritter for Isabelle Boulay (that's not saying much right there) called out to me from the crowd as I had just finished a part -- in an attempt to mock me and increase what little stature he shared with the crowd by shouting out: "that's it??" with an insulting grin and I argued "yeah, that's exactly it, not that you'd understand". It was a very important lesson and I need to make sure I remember it next time. Will it be the "fabled" Fatigue Show 4? I hope so, and it'll happen there too if I don't compromise, but at least I'll be genuine. It is worse when I compromise, trying to add in a few crowd-pleasers just to soften the blow -- I'll leave that up to some of the musicians with which I'll share the stage, 'cause they can pull it off. I get the comments often, it's a tag called "depressing" but it is in fact a love for sad songs. Though it might bring you down, it is a testament to one's darkest feelings fueled by music. There's beauty in this expression, and if you're not willing to understand that (perhaps even identify with it) then it'll be a sad night on the horizon for you I'm afraid -- you might only show up in order to support some friends of yours and that'll be your loss -- and for those of you who might give "understanding" a shot and get past the automatic colorless front the music generates (especially mine), you'll have my thanks no matter how it turns out for you. In any case, we'll meet outside afterwards where I'll be filling my lungs with my habit and the city's habits, don't forget the other poisons, just sneak out some scotch for me and all will be fine.

220606

Broke! It's building up but not as much as I had anticipated -- I usually prepare (financially) for "July", the Jazz fest and one hell of storm of contracts before the two-week vacations that follow. Not sure how I'm gonna pull it off this year, blame it on my late invoices, but I'll be there anyway. We got an early glimpse of summer in Montreal a week-end ago, what it really is; a few nights on outdoor terrasses and just walking around the city at night (I also did an outdoor duet near St-Elizabeth with an old street musician, that's the kind of anecdote you come to expect out of the city). St-Laurent had its festival, the street was closed and as we walked back up the street after closing time, it was near chaotic -- this city has no intention of falling asleep at 3am. Which is why afterhours work. We were attracted by the pull of an escalating riot in progress. It would make sense to have a last call at 4am followed by an hour of non-alcoholic service. Bar and club owners accross town have been demanding it for a long time now, I second that. Montreal's post-3am activites have become very unappealing to me, then again I don't dance, I don't do any drugs (I think) and I try not to be intimate with strangers (on that note, I'm not a voyeur either, I find it difficult to maintain a conversation with someone in a private late night environment while people around me are "f*cking", but that's just me... and 2001 was a long time ago, there is nothing elite about these kinds of secret lounge parties). I used to love June, it just hasn't felt right these past few years -- is it me or it feels as though our summers are slowly extending past September now?

interfere with lovers [04]

[tristezza dalla parte di sinistra]. Limited sharing; vague hints to very specific points -- I write/talk/sing like so, my eyes express themselves as such. I doubt anything major is ever revealed, I'm smart enough not to expose myself too much, nor would I ruin precious personal secrets and moments. Interfere with lovers was not meant to be a specific jab; it's a common situation (in that order) that happens to the majority of lovers, and that is why they've derived from their original appearance [ref: all the 2004 writtings], because sacred bonds (good and bad) must remain personal -- and lo behold the "compromise". I do see someone specific when I think of the intruder piece though no one knows who that might be, and I do see someone specific when I think of the three-to-two piece -- every other sympathizer can relate and attach their own characters to it, and apparently, that was the case. And no one cried fowl either. I often ask myself, where are the opposite prints? Why did a love lost spur art when love itself didn't (at least not in the public domain)? I've always been one to advise that sadness should be worn like a badge. All too often, one's entourage will easily dismiss one's emotions (or label them differently) based on different experiences. It is this shame that prevents most from screaming it out of one's system. It is unfair that I haven't illustrated the latter (in public domain). My artistic talents have, in every case, been generated out of sadness. Like an instinct; my most powerful palette. I think, for this collection (and maybe also the previous one) that I issued a warning. Make sure this doesn't happen to you, or something like that... it's not important really. I mean, the outcome isn't important. The loss is though, prevent that. I know I know sometimes it's beyond our control, of course I'm aware -- who do you came up with these prints? There was art, back when there was love. Yes, "past tense" here. I don't think that had to be public at all but I assume something similar and public might've eventually come from it but there were cogs in the machine that required the attention instead. There are songs out there, my own, that've captured glimpses of that era, though those, are harder to find now [note: "dramatic" actually is one of those songs]. And that was in its own way, "the latter" out in the open. Unfortunately, the opposite songs remain, not all of them, not the specific ones but some are still sung. It has come to my attention in the last year or so that I had predicted some early fears of mine, through music, that somehow came to pass. It strikes me every time. Just a few days ago, I remembered an old chorus line that had a really nice chord change, the lyrics went *** and I didn't catch on as I was rediscovering it, but it hit me like a knife as I sung it aloud -- it just hit me as I remembered it, and I swear I cried like a shaking wreck of a man. It was what I feared the most and I had already written it. The coincidence and the shear accuracy was absolutely overwhelming. I had a few moments to swallow it up and hide the outbreak of shaking and tears, but I swear, for a brief moment I was back in the eye of the storm, like that dark side is sometimes closer than it seems, like the fine line I try to manage with alcohol; it can hit you when you least expect it. My point is that such an intense feeling, one that has a substancial power/influence of you, has a tendency to be easier (wrong word here) to channel (evidently an attempt to be rid of it) -- and had love prevailed, a brighter palette might've been possible.

sharing my comfort zone

[Having trouble concentrating on writting at the moment -- you see, some soccer game (I presume) was just won and the local fanatics make it a point to drive around and make an orchestra of car horns to let us in on their celebration, useless/careless noise and exhaust polution aside, without wondering, mind you, if any of the residents actually give a damn. You can't stop fanatics from doing anything, but you could give them a pre-determined space to act out their "parades" where the general public would be warned of such acts; where they can expect it and be prepared, ultimately also less irritated. Harmless fun you say? In the past two hours, there has been three car accidents on my street corner alone. Now shut up, I'm ranting here.]

Where was I... ah yes, you see that image above? Yeah that was my week-end; a Radiohead week-end at Place des Arts (I'll get back to that in a minute), my attendance made possible by my long time friend and frequent collaborator Patrick, whom by the way plays in a band called Plajia (go see them now before they get too famous for your asses). Thank you my dear friend. I'm not cut out for reviews so I'll just say that it was even better than I could've imagined and leave it at that. However, "everything was not in its right place" so to speak, in some ways, everything "radiohead" to me was/is somewhat of a special bond I shared with my ex-girlfriend (it is, of course, only ironic that we should cross paths numerous times in a crowd of 3000 people... when-oh-when will my soul stop freezing as her gaze locks into mine?). So that took some getting used to, but nothing could really ruin such an experience, not even my powerful animostiy of "reunions", I guess honestly what really bothered me was that the PDA was one of my only safe/neutral spots in the city -- I've never publicly admitted this but there's a souvenir I shared there with a girl that I will leave nameless, somewhere in 2005 when for a bleak moment someone else managed to make my heart beat again (no -- you have no idea who she is, I barely do) but that was brief, something I did not pursue because I felt it was too early and well, ---- fuck this shit, fuckk it, you know how I feel, it's still too fucking early. Judge at will, I'm happy, are you?? Ask yourself that before going into an essay on my life and times (S**** softens up then goes boom, typical). Doooooo me that favor and ask yourselves that before you do, please please do. Now, I just need to own the spot again. That's all. I'll make it happen. On the other hand, what did make the evening(s) even more powerful and emotional than they already were was getting together with my friends after the shows, and seeing some nice familiar faces before and during also -- good friends, I love my friends (all of my friends who are reading this, who has shared radiohead with me during the week-end, you know who you are, I thank you for such a beautiful week-end, seeing you all there just added to the joy of it all). Hopefully I'll get to share this with other friends who weren't fortunate enough to see these two brilliant/perfect shows on some other occasion, I love you too! Everything in its right place, it's like the song, it's like a fragile post-panic moment that can only last for so long, you should notice when it happens and savor it. Damn, am I preaching? It's the horns outside I tell you, the horns.

bad change

[A follow-up on this post] : At first, I guess we were prepared to lose the yard, K****'s yard, C*****'s garden -- as they bricked up gradually loosing the view through an endless summer of thick construction noises, we were prepared for that. We just didn't know all that it implied back then. It hasn't gotten any better, the noises haven't stopped and the intruders now occupying the lost family space have little respect for the ones who gave up so much so that they could live there in the first place. I'm slowly contemplating action against them but I'm willing to let them settle in first and get the lay of the land before I dish out a few warnings. There is also major uncertainty with our current abodes, one that we have little control over... that said, I'm not taking my nest and these past six year's souvenirs for granted. It's an adjustment period for all concerned, I understand this, however I am still collecting cards with which to fight back when/if I get pushed to the wall. Things get very dangerous when a victim has nothing to lose.