Hero Worship

I'm going to see Leonard Cohen in June. That's really all I have to say.

Things are good. Work is improving. I'm about to start apartment hunting.

I'll write more later but, for now, I'm just going to relaxing and wade further into Ondaatje's Divisadero. It's quite good.

My Ipod Has A Genre Called Sarnia

In it, I have stuffed all the works I have by friends and acquaintances from the Chemical City. From veterans like Jim Chevalier to up and comers like the Chocolate Robots, it is a genre I visit often. It's not that the music does not hold up against the rest. It does so in fine fashion. I just set up the genre to make the music easier to find.

One always finds people who are quick to criticize Sarnia. There's a facebook group dubbing Sarnia the 'ghetto of Ontario'. Aside from the fact that, if Ontario had a ghetto, it would probably found on the opposite side of the province (but that's a topic for another day), I just cringe at this sort of talk because it is so short-sighted.

When I think of Sarnia, I think of the fact this supposedly horrible city shuts down its downtown core for a weekend every summer to celebrate the works of its artists and artisans. I think of the photographs and artwork that decorate my walls. I think of a place that still feels like a small town for good and bad reasons. I think of the energy exchange and wonder what other small city could boast a shop like that.

People are too quick to look downriver in Sarnia, towards the apocalyptic tangle of pipes and boilers that is the chemical valley. Their compass points to the darkness. If they turned around and faced upriver, however, they would see Lake Huron, one of the great inland seas, and a shoreline that is incredibly beautiful.

Sure, it's not that simple. I know that things in Sarnia are far from perfect. What amazes me is that so many people are trying to make it better, so many people are taking the time to create art and music and poetry.

Well, that's enough cheerleading for today. I've never been good with pom-poms and the like. Besides, it's time to head to work.

An Epistolary Confession

Dear Readers,

I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but I have a weakness for books of letters, especially those written by writers. It started with Steinbeck's A Life In Letters. I picked it up on a whim and have had a hard time putting it down since. It was a revelation. Even in such spontaneous scribblings, Steinbeck is a pleasure to read. The little details, the relationships, the observations - to this day, Steinbeck's book remains the gold standard as far as I'm concerned.

Which brings us to this past weekend and my spring cleaning / purge. The great thing about this is I dug up a number of books I nearly forgot about. Two of them were books of letters, one by a publisher and one by a writer.

The book by a writer is Evelyn Waugh's collection (The Letters of Evelyn Waugh). I've put it in the on deck circle, as it were.

The other book is Imagining Canadian Literature: The Selected Letters of Jack McLelland. I've spent the morning thumbing through it and I am amazed I did not give it more time the first time around. Richler. Cohen. Atwood. Layton. Purdy. This is CanLit in grand style. It's great to see these names become people. Of course, the fact that these are letters to and from a publisher means that it is not a complete love-in. That is one of the pleasures of the book, seeing the writers talk so candidly about their craft and the marketing of such. I'm thinking it may become one of my books for the Canadian Book Challenge (http://bookmineset.blogspot.com/2007/10/canadian-book-challenge.html).

In some ways, it saddens me. Reading these letters makes me realize just how poor a medium email is. And how lazy we've all become. Rather than deal in thoughts and emotions, we are quick to toss off cliches and smilies. Have we really become so important that we cannot take the time to say that we are laughing out loud?

What about those who are quick to jettison punctuation or capitals? It's fine when done right, but we are not all budding ee cummings. As such, what was once a bold and calculated statement becomes a testament to laziness and sloppiness. It tells the reader that the writer does not think enough of them to take the time to write a proper, thoughtful letter.

Ironically, this seems to happen most in the one place where it should happen least - the business email. How does one respond to a business letter that has a smiley in it? Or one that is so full of spelling/grammar errors as to be almost unreadable. The irony being that the worst offenders are often the highest up the corporate ladder.

I guess this has turned into a bit of a rant. I did not mean it to be. It's just that it bothers me. Where once we took the time to communicate, it seems now we just want to get the letter over as soon as possible so we can get back to the television or something.

There I go, tilting at windmills again. By now, you're probably getting bored of this. So I will wrap it up.

How are things with you, by the way? What's new? Read anything good lately?

So long for now,

Remi

More Spring Cleaning Fun

I was listening to an old mixed disc I made years ago, drinking a beer and wading through the boxed remainers of my life until now when I chanced upon a folder from the OAC Writer's Craft course I took nearly half a lifetime ago.

The writing was the same as all the writing I have found so far in my cleaning - touches of skill mixed with touches of pretension muddled with teenage angst and bravado. As Dylan sings, "But I was so much older then / I'm younger than that now".

Anyways, stuffed in the front pocket of this folder was an acceptance letter from York University. I never did take them up on that offer, though I thought of it. Instead, that summer, I worked for the military for a month and a half and then I hitch-hiked to Vancouver (strange travel suggestions are dancing lessons with god - k. vonnegut). I came back, took two morning classes, worked a combination of four jobs and then went to Laurentian the next year.

There's a part of me that wants to fill the forms out and send them in with a note apologizing for the delay and stating that I am ready now. Just to see what they say.

Strange

I've got Hockey Night In Canada on in the background. They're doing the national anthems. The singer gets most of the way through O Canada and stops singing, letting the crowd take up the song for a line or two. He then jumps back in and finishes it off.

I've seen this done at so many concerts that it's almost become a cliche. I have never seen this sort of thing done for the national anthem.

I guess I like it, though it seems a bit odd.

If a bomb was to go off in the hallway. . .

. . . I would be safe. My doorway is currently blocked by a barricade of full extra large garbage bags. Nothing short of an a-bomb will put a dent in that pile.

Now that I have guaranteed I will be working downtown for the foreseeable future, I've decided it's time to finally get off my ass and move somewhere closer/more interesting/less rundown. I put my two months notice in with the corporation that own the building and I have started the search for new digs.

While I will likely buy a condo somewhere eventually, I am looking to rent a place close to downtown for a while. I want to experience a downtown life that isn't bookended by hour-long subway and bus jaunts. I want to live near a neighbourhood bar again. I want to see more plays and bands and readings and all the things I pass on now because they are such a hassle to get to.

To make things easier when the time comes to move, I am reducing the amount of stuff in my apartment. Hence the garbage bags. I never really realized how much of a pack rat I was until today.

The books and cds, I can understand. While I have put a small dent in my library lately by donating two big plastic bins of books to the Barrie Public Library (most of them wound up in circulation, apparently), I will always have way too many books and cds. It's just who I am.

What I cannot explain is why I still have:
- games for Windows 95 computers
- worn out work clothes for a job I will likely never work again
- 10 chess sets of various styles and sizes (I'm parting with 6. I will explain why I still want 4 at some future date.)
- a Winnipeg souvenir spoon
- a game boy advance when I also have a DS
- a backgammon set with a "Chess Players Mate Better" bumper sticker on the side
- 2 sets of bedsheets I will never use again

The list goes on to include plenty of papers, trinkets and gizmos I will never need and, frankly, had not thought of in years.

I'm glad to be doing this. It's a hassle I have put off for way too long. Much like when I downsized my library, though, I find that it gets easier as you go. Once I start, it becomes a game to see how much I can get rid of. When I got rid of the books, I wound up slipping in some books that I really was not planning on parting with, simply because I wanted someone else to have the chance to enjoy them as much as I did.

I can't say today's cull has been quite as high-minded or quixotic, but I am feeling better already. The weight of my possessions had become too much. It's an odd notion, but it's true. I knew for a while I had lots of stuff I no longer needed but I could not bring myself to act because the job just seemed so large. It was easier to ignore it.

Well, it's time to get back to the bedroom. I'm through the worst of it, I think. With the new job and everything, I'm not going to have much time to move. Doing this stuff in advance should make things much easier.

My Gangland Past

I guess I will have to put off my tell-all memoir about living amongst the gangs of Jane and Finch for a while yet.

http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/arts/2008/03/05/2008-03-05_oprahs_mag_gushed_over_memoir_of_fake_ga-1.html

There people go, letting the facts get in the way of a good story.