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

February 18, 2005

snow now

Perhaps after all what I need is a laptop. Yesterday I set up my iMac on a chair and dragged it across the room so I could write and play from the futon, sitting indian-style, all tangled up in wires. It isn’t the most ergonomical of arrangment, though the light seems to come in a renewed way. I believe I’m mostly done with moving things around now. I ended up telling my landlord that I would stay for another year, she said great, and promised more flowers, and longer washing machine cycles still at the same low price. My neighbours Cheech & Chong vowed to try and grow corn plants on our shared balcony, but what I requested is a windscreen, a sundial. It doesn’t really matter. The important is that plans have been made, and I can now sit back and relax.

But I just can’t wait to be outside, under the bright white sky! On Fridays I am generally useless, and this is when I like best meeting up with a friend, have coffees and walk home early, pleasantly exhausted and a litl-l-e wired.

I wanted to mention the obituary published in the Globe and Mail, about Navarino’s coolest employee, Andrea. Reading this makes me feel sadness and regrets, for friends long lost, my helplessness, I still and never will know what to say.

Posted by nathalie at 04:49 PM

February 03, 2005

means an all consuming desire to resign

last night i had this dream i keep having now and then, of being on a scary car ride. my friend’s sister was the driver, speeding on an intricate highway overpass. i thought i would die every time she missed a turn and passed overboard the fence, but the car just kept falling with a terrible noise on another highway underneath.

Posted by nathalie at 10:34 PM | Comments (3)

November 03, 2004

lonestar beercaps rosary (failed to bring victory)

i didn’t get to sleep much last night, and it almost feels as if i could burst in tears just over the sight of a cute kitten. so we watched the elections unfold yesterday at the korova, and we felt angered and helpless, as images from the CBS and the comedy channel intertwined on the big screen. leon, who said he is looking forward for this very letdown of a weblog entry, though i never make any sense, was eating a strange beast of a poutine involving small peas. the peas were then set apart and mashed with mint altoids, in a vain attempt at recreating moral nausea, solidarity and just plain fucking helplessness or i don’t know if i was just trying to be funny really, but anyway the concoction was dutifully ingested. i am nathalie, canada’s official spokesperson, and send my love to yall, my love and flickr kittens, and a wonderful silly song, scream it.

That man loves you
That man cares for you
That man loves a heathen
That man loves you

Posted by nathalie at 01:05 PM | Comments (6) | TrackBack

April 20, 2004

moving into a new place

Earlier I was doing cartwheels, now I resemble the spinning wheel on an upside-down bicycle, in motion and crashed. I signed a new lease without much thinking, just wanting to end this frustrating year of let-downs in apartment hunting, and the worries as my current lease was ending. On sunday night it looked right, it was what I wanted. I just visited again this evening, my official new place, around 7. But the golden light didn’t pour in, it was blocked from walls outside. The bedroom wall isn’t dark wine like I thought, but a red shade of deep orange. The television was on and the hamster was asleep, and the current tenants, now that the landlord had left us alone, were lifting carpets with the tip of their feet, drawing curtains, “you should get them to repair this - they are supposed to fix that”. And I kept looking for a corridor of light and coloured glass, the sunset reflected somewhere, as the rooms turned into liquid lava, black and devouring.

The kitchen is quite bright, though. And unabashed gourmets would praise its location 2 flight of stairs next to Frites alors. There are other good sides too. It has wooden floors. It has no roommates. There will be enough room for a cat of good dimension. And it still won’t fulfill my wish for a fireplace, so I can save it for later. Perhaps I feel dread because I have just fulfilled a wish, by having a new place, like I am pushed back and forced to watch my wish unfold, as the craving fade. I should know different by now, and just wait until it rolls back, while I discover this new street, this summer.

Posted by nathalie at 10:17 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack