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March 23, 2005
it’s a miracle i saw you passing through
Today I got in the mail the Toulouse record which have topped my wish list and ebay searches for years, “The way the city stretches”. I would add a few biographical notes about Toulouse and their great concept-album but my readers have heard me tell this one before!
Probably the long wait was key, but right now I can’t think of any 5$ that ever bought me such joy. I like the blue prints on the carboard, and the undoubtedly lovelier sound of a needle on a slow-spinning vinyl! (my turntable is almost shot). The tincan ringing of the mp3s I used to listen to has reveal itself vintage, but it just sounds many degrees warmer.
At first I was heartbroken to not find a lyrics booklet, even though I often end up disappointed, but then I found instead a note for each song :
- one a.m.
the city built on stilts is not such a terrible idea…here, one can survey the motorways below from a safe vantage point above.
-know better
the city built on inaction must be provided with the impetus to act.
-chant marigot
the city built on the sea sways softly…its youth lament the tragic ends of their past amorous adventures.
-sadness will persist
the city built on rubble must certainly fall to the ground. its foundations are far too fragile.
-and the connections
the city built on concrete, glass, and cars is a never-ending squalor of sights and sounds. one must find a guide if one is to avoid becoming lost in its byzantine mass.
-memory is nothing
the city built on dreams must never turn to memory as a crutch. its motels and airports are filled with misguided travelers.
-never said
the city built on springs is a wonderful contraption. watch as it bounces and moves about.
—-
I guess many people could find the record dated but it still sounds intemporal to me. Like finding myself at intersections, chosing this or that path, without always thinking about which part of me finds it beneficial, and what do I lose in the trade. I seldom seem to make the wiser choices, and the melancholy of these songs just proves me right. It reminds me of the dilemma at the heart of architecture, or music, and of the way Toulouse failed to make a second good album (well there’s always Vitesse I guess!)
“As urban designers, we must consider every denizen of the city. How does each city-dweller view his/her environment, and how do these perceptions affect his/her daily enjoyment of the city? A stockbroker who goes to work at nine and returns home at five certainly appreciates the steady flow of traffic afforded by broad streets. However, we must not forget the youth of our cities. They sneak out all night, play like spies. They enjoy running down streets and hiding far from sight, and as such, they would presumably prefer narrow, nameless streets.”
Venturi, Robert, Complexity and contradiction in architecture, 1966
Posted by nathalie at 08:59 PM | Comments (1)
March 21, 2005
semper fi farfisa
I fell in love with this kitten on flickr and I can only laugh at how specific a “type” I remain attracted to! Still, beautiful.
I don’t think any more snow will come out. Well it’s still winter, but I couldn’t say I really hibernate anymore. Even in the sound 8-hour sleep of my last few work days, or in the depth of night, my eyes keep opening up every other hour, then close again, like one would feel a sword kept under their pillow. I feel anxious about not waking up in time for next week’s holidays. I have no time to get away, so I decided to buy a small electric piano.. no idea what kind. I will love it and wonder what took me so long. Me a daughter of letters, who am I fooling! My new career is maintaining registries of car accidents, I better get this out of the way now, nobody should want details. A new schedule means less holidays, but more time to be awake, and for my true calling : piano.
Posted by nathalie at 09:53 PM
March 13, 2005
driving around on a saturday
It was around noon yesterday that my friend Mrs. du K…* and I embarked on a fabulous journey out of the city. Last week, her mom went on a trip, leaving her car to her daughter’s vigilance. And we have been talking about road trips ever since, checking maps and weather predictions.
As we prepare to go, we see the weather is indeed seasonal, with flurries and abundant slush. I lace my boots tightly, find some shoe polish in the gloves compartment, then cue “Kill surf city” and “U-Mass” and a couple other old tapes, not able to stop smiling.
In close to 5 years of friendship, we never shared a road trip together, memorable taxi rides not counting, and always wanted to set sail. I already know she won’t let me drive, but I accept with gratitude the tape player and the windshield wiper’s responsibility. “Do you even have a license?” I asked this, not her. “I do”, answers my friend. “It’s very safely kept. Don’t worry.”
And she does drive like a pro! one hand on the wheel, the other in her mouth, biting her nails. We ride around for a while, following our apparently circular inspiration, then back from the start, we finally decide upon a destination – the palindromic suburb of Laval and it legendary ruins, gigantic shopping complexes and space shuttle-shaped children day camp, all the way over the Autoroute 40 Ouest, or is it 15 North? This will be clarified later.
How great is my friend’s skilled and courteous driving way..! Upon every red light, every stop sign, we lively discuss the music and the weather until every last car around, every last pedestrian is safely out of sight and all the cars behind us start their cheerful honking. Her flair for shortcuts also allows us access to many, seldom admired dead-end streets and parking galores that at first looked like streets leading somewhere.
We reach the shores of Laval by mid-afternoon, head for the closest mall, and step inside requesting lodging and food. The ride has invigorated us, and the shopping crowds which usually make me dazed now just make me silly… We point at things and gimmicks as if we came from another time, observe how unattractive they are, and walk back to the car before our parking space fades into memory.
K.* drives us safely home for more food and drink and we watch a movie but feel the road trip isn’t over, so around 9, we head back outside. All this ice to scrape off proves so worthwhile! This time we explore Côte-des-Neiges and its wonderful old brick houses and curvy roads, we slowly circle Polytechnique with all lights out, until there is only one way left, a path thickly cushioned with snow, up to the observatory.
And from there the city looks so small, so familiar, yet impossible to embrace at once, at once a warming, frustrating sensation.
Posted by nathalie at 01:57 PM
March 06, 2005
ephemerides
Despite the moderate snow that fell earlier this morning, March is starting to organize itself, speeding disorderly towards the beauty of spring. It’s still a bit sketchy for now, but the small earthquake felt on Quebec and the US border last night should help set things back in place.
This weekend I attended a show from the “Under the snow” festival, The brotherkites. My ears still hurt a bit… They had 3 guitars on heavy reverb, and quite catchy songs. I feel well-rested (dreamed I was climbing up a mountain! ah) and now have a whole day ahead of quiet…It is a good day for reading, and bringing water to boil, and not much besides this. Well one could also prune trees, I guess. But just reading is fine.
When I was a kid I loved quiet sundays spent with sweepstakes mailings, also the Guiness book of Records, the TV Guide, etc. I was made fun of for reading instruction booklets, too. That was before the Internet. One thing I especially enjoyed was The People’s Almanac, with something new to ponder upon for every day. So here is a page for March, which you might want to refer back to occasionally.
(c) Pere Ubu’s Almanac, 1901
Posted by nathalie at 11:48 AM
March 02, 2005
pang! pang! just boring things to report
So much hope was carried in this first March blizzard, so much magic, for example my boss stuck in the Maritimes with a cancelled flight, for still a day or two! It leaves me plenty of time to look around. The last few days I was beaten down, I got refusals after interviews at two different places. The first one radiated grey and stillness, with a beautiful view South. But they finally said it wouldn’t work, as I don’t have enough a community profile. What in the world. It left me feeling blank and stupid, then I guess it passed, and I was back to my usual, go-getter despair. Never lost my smile. The second refusal hurt more, I wanted to work there but I probably said too much platitudes about computers, or didn’t phrased them professionally enough. I don’t know what they thought, but they refused me.
I have another, hopefully last interview, at Square Victoria today 4 PM, but it doesn’t mean anything. These last weeks blunted me; can I dissimulate all traces of rolling eyes, of carelessness, it all keeps poking out. But how little does it matter… I just can’t tell the truth. I lost all my diplomas somewhere in moving houses, my references burnt to ashes in a tragic fire. But listen to me typing away! I only got into coffee a year or two ago, so it’s still like a honeymoon, and mornings are no problem. I dig repetitive tasks. I promise clean shirts, courteous exchanges, in peace and troubled times alike. As long as I get home in time for the sunset, making enough money for drugs and books, visits to the circus, and providing my old kitten a life of luxury.
This better works now… fingers crossed.
Posted by nathalie at 12:26 PM | Comments (3)