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June 29, 2004
results are in!
I stayed up all night, cross-legged on the floor, nose pressed against the television, switching channels feverishly with my heart pounding in my chest, as the Federal Elections results unfold.
Well, not really. But if you are curious to know - the Liberals won again, despite scandals and dirty laundry. Paul Martin with a little mustache of sweat, pledge to “do more and better from now on”, as doves trapped inside balloons were released. Elsewhere, no big surprises either – West Canada votes Conservative, a majority of Quebecers are separatists, and the New Democrats gets about 10% - 15%, mostly disgruntled voters who are pissed off at Liberals or Conservatives. The spokemodel for the Christian Heritage Party provides comic relief across the campaign, while the Green Party, Marijuana Party, Communist and Marxist-Leninist parties gathers alltogether about 5% of votes. (There are reasons to rejoice for the Green Party, and of this I am especially happy.)
For the first time in years, we have a minority government. This isn’t surprising, either. As new Montrealer Maciej Ceglowski pointed out,
It seems that the ruling Liberals (I love saying that) have antagonized the country by mixing corruption with incompetence, which is a terrible mistake. Voters like their corruption clever and diabolical, and they like their incompetence well-intentioned and honest.
So, that is that. Election fever has dropped down, nothing much has changed on the political landscape nor any new drastic turns may be envisioned before forever, all in all it’s always quite tame and careful and unexciting and bless, oh bless be it.
Posted by nathalie at 12:26 PM | TrackBack
June 20, 2004
we’ve gone on holidays by mistake
Sometimes I need and love the cacophony of street festivals. It makes the quiet walk home even more delicious. The little white fence all across St-Laurent boulevard is showing the way out to cars, and welcoming pedestrians with cups of warm beer, mango on a stick, a slap on the back. Speakers hung in the trees make the squirrels run in retreat, they assemble on top of the Fringe booth where they can be sure to find plenty of nuts. We follow the chalk marks on the pavement, and worlds surimpose as I meet my friend Paddy. “I heard you got a Gamecube! Can I get your N64 then?” “Of course you can”, I answer, “but I already lent it to Penny the mouse! Just go and get it from her, ok?” Digging through the pavement with my golden shovel, I find a beach, and deeper still, a river of warm beer flowing through.
We reach for the pie tossing booth. Calvin Johnson is sitting there, selling mixtapes. Everyone wants to throw pies at him, because moments earlier he was on stage, stuttering his way through an awful one-hour monologue about how wrapping oneself in a carpet is more punk that using a sleeping bag, etc. I liked it, but the crowd kept booing, they wanted the snoopy dance, the cream pie toss. A teenager walked up to the stage and raised his hand, Calvin interrupted the show. “Yes? Do you have a question?” “Yes,” said the kid. “I came to the show because I loved the Beat Happening tape that my friend gave me, years ago. I listened to it over and over. But I’ve just been made aware that it was actually a Syd Barret tape.” Calvin nodded. “mm mmm.”
A group of Peruvian musicians have started making a racket in the street, they spin and clap and the crowd converges towards them. We are looking at the mixtapes, and Calvin looks up at me, tilting his head on his side and avoiding the upcoming cream pie tossed at him. “Hi,” he says, “What’s your name? Would you like a mixtape?” I say “No, thank you. Would you like a Coke?” He says no, thank you. We waved goodbye, best friends forever.
Later on I end up in bed, dreaming of mango-eating contests. I awake at dawn and play a little Nintendo, the movement of the sea rises and fall inside my head and stomach, but I finally feel better and go back to sleep.
Saturday night, we got ambushed in the crowd during the Brazilian parade, and managed to escape through a back alley. Rivers of warm beer are still flowing. We reach the riverside in time for the fireworks; tonight is Spain, a pyrotechnical display for peace. It’s loud and smoky and smells wonderful, wish Tam was there. There are horses idly standing by the gates, we chat a little with them. “What are you doing for the solstice?” “I am taking it slow. As well you should.”
I love quiet sundays home. Newspaper day, a sit-around day. I bought my dad a chocolate fish for father’s day, but he is off fishing. It is a solid piece of chocolate, and I think if I just nibble its underside he might believe it was actually an empty chocolate creation..? I’ll see what I can do.
Posted by nathalie at 12:58 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 15, 2004
nintendo et circenses
I wanted to sing
My sunlit song
I raised the sails to the wind
I set free the tigers and lions in the yard
But the people in the dining room
Are occupied with being born and with dying
I demanded that a dagger of pure shining steel be made
To kill my love, and I did it
At five o’clock on Central Avenue
But the people in the dining room
Are occupied with being born and with dying
I demanded that leaves
Of dreams be planted in the sunlit garden
The leaves know how to seek the sun
And the roots seek and seek
But the people in the dining room
These people in the dining room
Are the people in the dining room
But the people in the dining room
Are occupied with being born and with dying
These people in the dining room
The people
—veloso/gil
Posted by nathalie at 02:04 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 10, 2004
yes but i deserved it!
Over lunchtime today I bought a poorly illustrated Taschen Gründ edition of Alice and a 1999 Manual of Netiquette from the street booksale, where the crappy meets the misprinted under enticing bright orange tags. I wanted to reward myself for having affronted a scary needle at the doctor’s office, and having succeeded in biting my inside cheek to blood instead of passing out. I know it is a very boring old-fashioned phobia, but the terror is real, and have reached quite laughable heights over the past years. Plus I always need a rationale, no matter how stupid, to back up impulsive buying. Anyway, I rewarded myself with a couple of books but still it wasn’t testimony enough as to the exploit I had just accomplished. So…
I came across this silly
thing, and a very strange feeling took a hold of me, both pleasing and urgent, like a rush of warmth, or strange little growing waves, that carried me to the cash register… Oh no! Oh yes. And now it is gently resting under my desk and I truly don’t know if I can manage to make it until 5 o’clock, because I am filled with such strong urges that even though I keep repeating to myself “needles, poking, veins, needles”, still my mind wanders back to promises of the infinite delights to come tonight!
Posted by nathalie at 03:48 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack
June 08, 2004
cities and the signs
Around 3am last night, I could tell something was going on. I awoke suddenly, the air was very still. My cat was pacing back and forth in the bathtub. This is it, I thought, tomorrow we will reach 30 degrees. It turned out to be indeed the first day of summer, which made some of us sit down and listen, and some others stand up and shout, in an abundance of signs, construction fever, and carrousels appearing overnight on the street. (I posted some pictures here).
My favourite signs are the ones that have been hung up next to electoral signs and these signs say : “Qui a VOLÉ l’argent des Chomeurs” which obviously means “Who STOLE the money of the people of Chom?” Haha. Then there is the ever enthusiastic neighbour who wants a sovereign Canada — Tuesday funnies from your correspondant up North. Perhaps I can post some more over the summer, as the mercury rises, and more signs keep creeping up… What are the words from your city?
Posted by nathalie at 08:14 PM | TrackBack
June 01, 2004
the right to fuck off
At work I often encounter people who complain that their boss tell them to go to hell. Now, we can just go and arrest them. A new law is effective in Quebec as of today, and I fear for my safety. To my knowledge, I have not yet uttered out loud the words that often crosses my mind when faced with dubious, manipulative work practices. But who knows.
I don’t really know how to see it…I favour any law that promote respect, but I never felt I had to get even with someone if they ever told me to go to hell. I guess it all depends. I feel happy the labour law is changing. One out of ten Quebec workers reported to surveys they have been bullied or belittled, and around 9 schoolchildren out of 10. As with all conflicts there are seemingly three options – to fight back, to hide or to desert. You can hide under your desk. You can desert within yourself. Or you can fight back with lawsuits, if you want to get even and hurt the other back, if you conceive justice in form of money tradeoffs.
I am always maddened at the way the weakest gets abused by the strongest, and the law can be a form of protection. Still the lawsuits operates on the same principle of war in a way that confuses me. It’s like we never learn, and laws upon laws are increasingly erected all around us, as protection against ourselves, our bad mouths and despotic manners. In the long term I think mandatory coffee breaks might be more effective (as you can tell I haven’t had mine today).