Just give me a name

A brief post about a couple of this weekend's fun escapades:

Firstly, the last of this season's DanceHouse shows - Carte Blanche's "Corps de Walk", which was much more amazing than this clip makes it seem. A piece that felt somehow industrial and sensual at the same time - and danced by people wearing creepy grey contact lenses to boot.

Will definitely want to buy tickets for next season.  I'm not sure I understand contemporary dance any more than I did two or three years ago, but I find it more and more compelling as time goes on.

And secondly - a great concert with long-time Canadian alt-folk/popster, Hayden, touring on his lovely recent album Us Alone.  Musically, he remains the stark, subtle, heartbreaking artist he's always been - and live he was a joy, as he's been every time I've seen him - a quietly funny guy, as many of the more poignant songwriters often are.  A quietly funny guy with totally epic hair, that unfortunately my poor video quality doesn't do justice.  This is one of the poppier tunes from the most recent album, performed with Lou Canon, who also did an opening set.

The Rio is quickly becoming one of my favorite place to see quieter performers - but YAY to the high stage, and the comfy seating.  The lighting could do with some work, but otherwise they're doing a grand job.

One of these days I will feel like writing something more thought provoking.  But not today.  It's too sunny out.

How has my love affected you? & other good things

A quick, lazy post, on one of the rare sunny days we've seen this month.... A cultural-life check in from this week: firstly, a gorgeous, first-nations inspired production of the Magic Flute by the VOC with my brother, and secondly, the thought provoking "How has my love affected you?" - explained succinctly in this trailer:
A very compelling piece of theatre for sure, performed by the father/son duo Marcus and Zak Youssef. My cultural-partner in crime A. mused afterwards that perhaps in the sharing of the very difficult, at times disturbing (finding his mother beside him in bed when he was 18? Not so normal...) relationship with his mother, Marcus isn't at some level doing the same sort of 'oversharing' with his son that his mother did with him when he was young. I guess the difference is perhaps the context, and one hopes the overall 'health' of their relationship in general. There is one point when Marcus starts to tell a story about him and Zak, and Zak pulls him up short, and Marcus respects his son's boundaries - a conceit I guess to clarify that boundaries and respect exist in their relationship, things that were obviously bent and strained in the relationship between Marcus and his mother. Music was written by the always amazing Veda Hille - love that woman's work, I really do!

 Before I forget - we had dinner at Edible Canada before - two thumbs up, and ALL digits up for the amazing chai flavoured crème brûlée - it's my mission recreate that joy in ice-cream form soon.

And today - a gorgeous hike in Deep Cove with the goils. In the sun. I could almost smell summer.

The murder has landed...

It's done.

DONE.

I am thrilled, and relieved.  I was wound up like a spring yesterday morning, waiting for my noon tattoo with Eric.  I was wound up as I had only seen preliminary artwork (which I liked, but did request changes to), I had no idea if I would be able to deal with the pain, and the biggest fear - regret.  Regret because the piece had turned out terribly, regret because I might change my mind...you know.  Regret.

I parked a bit early, wandered down to the restaurant Tui works in for a good luck hug (and a very very tasty almond milk chai) - a nice coincidence that she was only half a block away from the shop.  Eric was having a smoke outside the shop when I arrived.  He reassured me I'd be fine (what else is he going to say?).  I walked in and one of the girls working in the shop said OH you're here for the crows! They're AWESOME!

That helped.  Hearing that, helped.  And the energy in the shop helped.  They were young, and enthusiastic.  When a new client got booked by one of the women, she wandered back and excitedly told Eric what she was getting to do.  There was no attitude.  No jaded coolness.  Just fun and passion for what they do.

And she was right - the crows were awesome.

Eric is lovely - a kind, unpretentious young guy.  We chatted about music, and school, and family.  About the things he had to do when he was an apprentice tattooer (including repeatedly stencilling the word "woof" on an academic professional's 'taint'...something that obviously haunts him a little).  About what parts of the body hurt most under the needle (apparently bums smart something fierce - who knew?).  About how he wants to get tattooed (pretty much) everywhere, in part so he has a good sense of what each area feels like for his clients.  And all that chat kept my mind off the discomfort going on - and I will call it discomfort for 90% of the process, pain for 10% (those big solid black areas do begin to smart something fierce).  I focused on the weight of his arms on my leg, and that somehow reassured me and made it easier.  Also making it easier?  A quick visit from Tui who took the photos above.  She was slightly disappointed that it was seeming so easy for me, kind hearted soul that she is.  It was four hours of fun, but it didn't feel nearly that long.

One thing that came out talking to Eric is how differently he (and the girls in the shop, and probably most young tattooers) view tattoos.  Me, I ruminated on this for years.  Where, what, would I get tired of it, who would do it...so many decisions.  Them? They have some downtime and will tattoo each other on the spur of the moment.  He laughed and told me that when he started, he used to practice on himself, so his thighs are covered with random, slightly ridiculous tattoos.  There was a bit of regret - only in that he has lost some space that could be used for bigger pieces.  But there is still plenty of skin to play with, I gather.  An attitude reflecting a generational difference? Maybe.  Or maybe once you're into body modification in a big way, you are liberated from the kinds of worries I had.

The end result?  I'm very happy.  He hit the level of detail I wanted perfectly.

At one point during the process, I made the comment that "this is a one time thing" - he looked up and smiled, and said "that's what you think..."  He may be right.

(im)permanent change

Lazy blogger here.  It isn't that there hasn't been a lot to blog about - last weekend was full of film and dance and hikes and science world nerdy fun.  Still, the impulse to write - well, it just wasn't there.

Consider this a pre-boarding announcement for a blog later this week that hopefully will be more interesting.

I've been going through a fair bit of change over the last year - changes of focus, changes to routine.   Some internal changes, some external - my hair is probably 6 inches longer, and my body is three sizes smaller.  Those are things will fluctuate over time I'm sure.  Impermanent change.

And I've been fussing over the last year about a permanent change - a tattoo.  I've known what I want, and where I want it, for a long time - actually I've known what I want for at least four years, but I didn't decide on the where until more recently.  The last year has been a strange roller coaster of trying to find the right person to do it.  First, I wanted a woman.  I found someone amazing in Montreal who travels to Vancouver from time to time, but she didn't get back to me.  I gave up on her, and tried to find a woman in town whose work I really liked, but couldn't.  And, to be honest, what I want done isn't all that complex, and isn't going to be of much interest to the 'superstars' in town anyway - and things are such that good artists can pick and choose their clients.  Then my brain flipped on the whole "female artist" thing, and I started looking at the guys in town.  AND - I found someone whose work felt right...but I was also pulled by the work of a junior guy that was working at the same shop.  A couple of weeks back, I decide to try to make an appointment.  Ya, well, guy number one was dead - a heart attack in January apparently.  Which left me with the junior guy.  I met with him last week, and for some reason (hopefully not delusional) he feels right.  He's got a nice manner, and none of the ego that can go along with the industry these days.  He will get some artwork to me early this week, with plans to do the work on Thursday if it all pans out.  I have a feeling this long journey has ended up with me being where I was meant to be.

So, think of me Thursday afternoon, crashed out on T1s and praying that this permanent change will turn out OK.

Still standing ... you

Still standing you. [or] Still supporting you. [or] Still bearing you. [or] Still standing for you. [or] Still standing with you. [or] Still standing. [or] Just still. (PuSh 2013)

Ah yes, that time has come - it was my last PuSh show last night, the remarkable Still Standing You - a contemporary dance piece quite unlike anything I've seen before.  I went with my discerning partner in dance viewing, A. ("hey, do you want to go see a dance piece with two naked guys throwing each other around?" "Sure!") - ok, our decision making isn't always the most refined process, but we both love being challenged, and PuSh programming is almost always a safe bet.

I looked for clips of the work online - this one isn't great, but it is the one that best gives the arc of the performance. It starts with one man balanced on the other's feet, talking to the audience very casually about his experience in the city they are performing in, which sets up a particular relationship with the audience.  It takes away any preciousness or pretension from the work, cues you in to the fact that it is OK to laugh, and begins the process of setting up the dynamic between the two men, which is maybe best outlined by the quote at the top of the post.  The piece moves from the two growling and taunting and jockeying for position through to moments of remarkable tenderness and support.  It's every relationship.  With the caveat that most relationships don't involve one partner attempting to consume the other's Superman underwear.  And most dance pieces don't include remarkably intricate moves that result in mind bogglingly manipulated foreskins (yes, this is not a work that could be performed by the circumcised).  A remarkable, incredibly physical, funny, moving piece.  Gads, I love the arts.  

 
DRODESERA 2012 We Folk! - PIETER AMPE & GUILHERME GARRIDO "STILL STANDING YOU" from Centrale Fies on Vimeo.

Other than that, I had a chance to catch up briefly with a dear pal from Toronto this week - someone I've known since 1988, and my first friend when I moved back east.  So good to see her, and so good to see the gods smiling on her life.  The gods have perhaps not been smiling on Maggie, who had to have her teeth cleaned and one extraction this week (I was arguing for a gold crown but no dice).  She is finally getting back to normal, despite having to suffer through having meds squirted down her throat twice a day.

And as for me?  Well, I am in a battle with my dissembling brain, an organ that likes to taunt me from time.  Hopefully the 20% of my brain that seems to realize what is fantasy and what is reality will win out.  Memory is truly a funny thing.  The saying "time heals all wounds" really means time will give your brain a chance to rewrite history, and blur the pokey edges.  That's not a bad thing, but you have to be on your toes enough to know what's going on.  I will put my pointe shoes on.

The God that Comes

A quick post about a true delight this week:  Hawksley Workman's "The God that Comes", part of Vancouver's amazing PuSh Festival.  I've gone to a show or two at PuSh the last few years, and will see three this year, but next year - next year I'm determined to really give it the time it warrants.

Anyhow - what an incredible treat this performance was.  I have been a fan of Hawksley's since I first saw him perform in 2001, and I've seen him god knows how many times since - but never quite like this.  He has always been a theatrical performer, and this story-telling version of Hawksley was just...perfect.  A perfect demonstration of his myriad talent, a perfect subject, the perfect sized room, the perfect seats (front row, natch), the perfect company.  It was another one of those moments where you forget about the irritations of the day, and just marvel and how lucky you are to be just where you are.

There is a trailer for the piece posted below.  It doesn't do it justice, but it gives you an idea.  Now, just add on some lipstick, and a mannequin with a crotch-mounted harmonica, and you must just start to scratch the surface ...

This musical, theatrical delight will be touring nationally and internationally.  If it comes anywhere near you, GO.  Really.

Sans Soleil

I went to see a screening of Chris Marker's remarkable Sans Soleil last night, part of a retrospective at Pacific Cinematheque (purveyors of fine films and absolutely ASS KILLING theatre seats).  I feel like a bit of an idiot for not having heard of Chris Marker before, but thankfully A. was a fan and invited me to tag along.

I'm not too sure what to say about the film - it is a documentary of sorts, structured around letters sent from a fictional traveller, focused largely in Japan but moving to Africa, San Francisco, Paris, Iceland.   The hypnotic and beautiful musings on memory and history pull you right in and keep your attention, even if your tailbone is screaming due to the ass-killing seat you are sitting in.  I kept wishing I had a pause button to stop and reflect on some of the voice over - luckily it is available as a Criterion DVD so that possibility exists.

If you too are a bit of an idiot, do try and see it.  

It's the new year...

..and really only one question is plaguing me:

Raylan Givens....

...or Cullen Bohannan?

2013. Seriously?

Hard to believe.  But I guess it warrants a quick new year's post of some sort.  I'm admittedly a bit of a New Year's Eve Hater - it's an overblown night, with a focus on a fake sort of happiness that for me is infinitely depressing.  That being said, when spent with close pals, in a close pal's home laughing and eating and playing, it does give me an opportunity to reflect on what I have, and what I want for the year to come.  For once I have made a mental resolution list - it is a small one, and manageable - I think.  I will let you know how successful it was in 2014...maybe.

New Year's Day was spent with my frequent partners in crime, going on a chilly but lovely slightly-hikey walk in Cap Canyon, followed by soup and crazy good ginger cake.  It's important to start the year as you mean to go on, and so much of that day reflects exactly what I want my year to be.

And yesterday was spent on the ferry, going to meet the next member of the family in Nanaimo.  She should arrive next week.  She is extremely sweet, and seems just neurotic enough to fit in perfectly with this family.  Apparently she vomits on long car rides. So do I.  Obviously we're related.

Ho ho ho...

  A selection of photos to mark the season - these ones not taken by me, but by the person that inflicted the infamous cat-pee licorice experience upon her relatives last Christmas.  It was a traditional gathering for the group - my nephew fetchingly adorned with gold balls from the Christmas crackers (my work, thankyouverymuch),  Christmas pudd that burned so long you could have roasted marshmallows, a cracker-crown wearing dog looking longingly at...well, everyone - and parents ignoring the collapse of their eldest on the floor.

I am surrounded by idiots (don't worry, they would agree).  And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Tis the season...

And when I say that, I wish I meant "'tis the season of all good things", but it is not that simple.  Certainly there are good things, but it's also a season that is difficult for many.  There is nothing like a holiday that celebrates the coming together of friends and family to remind you of those that aren't around anymore, or to highlight the thorny parts of relationships.  I'm hardly pessimistic, I'm just a realist (yes, I'm trying that old chestnut on for size).  The expectation that everything will be fun and joy is the dark underbelly of Christmas - if society would stop marketing that illusion, we'd all be a whole lot happier.  That being said, I'm not downplaying the fact that we should all take a moment to think about the good things, the family and friends that we have around us, because life can change, and take those things away, in a heartbeat.  Recent world events serve as an unfortunate reminder of that fact.

This year has marked a change for me - I'm back to decorating the tree on my own for now.  Well, not quite on my own, Mags observes - and judges - my every move from her perch on a diningroom chair.  Mum and I picked out a gorgeous tree, but it took me a few days to get up the energy to decorate it.  Now it is done I love it, but it took some willpower to get there.   But change does require willpower I suppose.  I have yet to take a good photo of this or any tree - trust me, it looks much less like an alien space craft in person.

And in sad news, my Mum's crazy, lovely boxer's life came to a peaceful end this week.   She had a great run of it, no doubt, but that doesn't make it easier.  My family has had a string of boxers over the years, but Chobe had a special place because she was around as my Dad got sick.  As he declined, she became more and more important to him, and I can't help but believe she knew exactly what her role was.  She didn't judge or mind his declining health, she was just there to provide contact and affection and a sense of the silly - something Chobe also gave my Mum as she went through the hard adjustments of Dad's decline and subsequent passing.  The plan is to scatter the dog's ashes along with Dad's this year.  It feels like the right thing to do.  But, life does go on, and hopefully there will be another canine in the family fold in the not too distant future.

To end on a positive note (yes!), I have three weeks off work. I have a fantasy that the end of that period will see an organized basement and a kitchen without wallpaper - wish me luck!

The big smoke for a short while

Yep, back in Toronto - this time a total rush trip, entirely work related, and entirely unpleasant (well, maybe that's harsh - I do have dinner plans that should be fun one night)

In mores interesting news, saw The Punch Brothers at the lovely Chan Centre with the equally lovely L. last night. The openers were the Milk Carton Kids, a fantastic acoustic duo with the best quirky on-stage patter I've experienced in a while ("winning" is the word), followed by the amazing Punch Brothers. Holy Crap is my official statement for the night. Insane talent, and one of those nights where I didn't feel a need to send dagger eyes at audience members - you could hear a pin drop when the band played (and that included some beautiful, un-mic'd moments, including some mind boggling Bach on the mandolin by the amazing Chris Thile) So impressive. I'm usually not a big fan of bands doing covers, but they threw in a few (Kid A and Dead leaves and the dirty ground to name two) and the approach is so fresh and unique it makes the effort make sense. And they did the slightly discordant third movement of The Blind Leaving the Blind from their first album, which quite honestly made my night. It was one of those evenings where you look around, and realize how unbelievably lucky you are to be right where you are.

Unfortunately no videos ( not something easily pulled of at the Chan), but I will show you a snap of the tour t instead.

I will stop now - I'm writing this on my iPad in the back of a cab speeding along a bleak Toronto highway, and I'm now feeling kind of car sick...




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Crossing the border (and other lines?)

An interesting few days for sure.

First, something from the very VERY entertaining Patrick Watson, who put on a stellar show at the Centre last Thursday.  My video attempts? Less than stellar.  This is as good as it got, and my memory stick filled up half way through the song:

He was fabulous.

And the weekend? Well, the weekend was spent in Seattle with my regular partners in adventure.

Why were we there?

Um, to watch a film festival.  Not documentary, not foreign film...but ... um, ya...porn.

The Stranger and the Portland Mercury once again invite amateur filmmakers, porn stars, porn-star wannabes, hotties, kinksters, regular folks, and all other creative types to make short porn films—five minutes max—for HUMP!™ 2012. ... anything goes at HUMP!™ (Well, almost anything: No poop, no animals, no minors.)

Yep.  HUMP! The idea here is to let people be 'porn stars for the weekend' - all copies of the films are destroyed immediately after the fest, never to be seen again (unless the creators decide to release them, that is).  

And how did I end up there?  Firstly, my long term admiration for one of the main creators of this phenomenon, Dan Savage - a controversial figure for sure, but certainly someone who stands up, advocates for what he believes in, and does more good on this planet than most in terms of education and pointing out the many hypocrisies that exist in the world.  

So,..why else?  Well, it was a bit of a personal challenge I suppose.  I am not what would be considered a "consumer" of porn, though I support its existence completely, for a bunch of different reasons I won't bore you with. That being said, some lizardy part of my brain finds it (or some of it) more problematic.  I am bored (or creeped out) by the inherent over the top artificiality; I am bothered by what can be a nasty tone; and I have to admit some concern that the incredible ease of access makes it the primary way young people learn these days what sex is about - and porn is to sex what romantic comedies are to real life relationships.  It's fantasy, not a teaching tool - but how are the inexperienced supposed to know the difference?  And I know, I know - I am generalizing.  And trust me, I could go on and on about this topic and my mixed up thoughts.  Welcome to my brain.

Then there's HUMP! - for me and the girls, a flight of fancy and a chance to dig into what might happen when the 5-minute challenge outlined above meets creative brains.  And a chance to see what truly non-commercial porn would (or could) look like.  And what a fun and interesting night it was.

The ballot!

To start, the energy in the theatre was happy and buzzing - the doormen, who made it clear that cameras were NOT welcome, were decked out in intentionally campy, tight fitting soccer uniforms.  We spilled into the cinema, and were greeted by Dan Savage, who chatted about the festival for a bit, what the rules were, and that any heckling or disrespectful remarks from the audience would result in the offenders removal ("we want to see assholes on the screen, not in the audience").  And then a table full of Jack Daniels shots was carried out.  I believe city bylaw say that say that you can't consume alcohol while watching porn, so they offered it to us first - for $5/shot, which went to charity.  The flock of bodies (yes, mine too) moving down to the stage to grab a shot just added to the general craziness.  Very fun.  Really.

And then - the films.  I'm not going to say much about them, except that they were often funny, and often surprising.  They covered a real cross section of humanity, and they were almost universally well shot and edited - really quality little shorts, regardless of the subject matter.  The audience laughed, cringed, whooped and applauded.  Who knew porn could be so...social?  There were ballots, and voting (best humour, best kink, best sex, best overall). What it was, really, was a celebration of human sexuality in all (well, most of ) it's forms.  It was about acceptance, no matter what  body you are in (transgendered,  disabled, skinny, lumpy, perfect..you name it), or what you like to do with that body.  And that was a delight to see.   And I wasn't creeped out (well, ok maybe once...).  Or bored.  Or bothered by the tone.

As we exited, pushing our ballots through the genital-orificed vote boxes, we were smiling.  And trying not to stare too closely at a couple walking in front of us that we had seen much, MUCH more of only a few minutes before.  Porn stars for the weekend, they were indeed.  And HUMP! has found some more converts.  We will be back next year, for sure.

A & her morning after eggs...

And, to clarify, I'm still not a consumer of porn.  Really...

Lots to see, not much to say

I've been a culture glutton for the last week.  Really I should have so much to say - and if you were to talk to me in person, I do have so much to say...but I'm being a lazy blogger.  So - the highlights:

1.  Skyfall, the new James Bond.  Suprisingly great for an action film.  Daniel Craig and Judy Dench are fantastic.  Did I mention Daniel Craig?  Javier Bardem also brings a delightfully over the top villain to the screen.  Oh, and there's Daniel Craig...

2. Kidd Pivot's "The Tempest Replica" with my dance partner in crime A.  A beautiful piece, for sure - excellent creative staging of a well known classic.  That being said, I didn't find myself as connected to it as I have other dance works I've seen.  Trying to figure that one out - I think maybe I was too concerned about narrative to appreciate the choreography as much as I could have.  I think this is my problem more than the work's.  I'm a dance virgin, I still obsess about understanding that language, maybe the well known narrative component was too much for my rapidly aging brain to handle on top of that.


3. Robert Lepage's "The Far Side of the Moon" - twice in four days, with my Lepagian-frere, on his birthday no less.  Yes, we are both obsessed.  This is something I definitely did connect with - I've seen it three times now, and I'd see it again any time.  I've spoken about Lepage before and I really don't know what else there is to say - except that I wish I had one quarter of his creativity, and I will see ANYTHING he puts together.   And for those of you who don't have the ability to see the theatrical version of the story, it is well worth renting the DVD of the film version - very very different than the theatrical work, but no less worthwhile.

This week brings more cultural fun - and hopefully more energy to write about it...

Sometimes I'm elsewhere...

Yes, if I'm not blogging you can find me here; more photos of Mags, Eddy and Lizzie, Chobe and my Halloween-ness await.













I should mention that Lizzie and Eddy are my pals' new babies - not sure they knew quite what they were letting themselves in for when they brought these two whirlwinds home - a whole lot of activity and laughs that's for sure. Adorable, both of them. Oh, and the kittens are pretty cute too ;)

In other news, finally saw PT Anderson's "the Master" - wow. Something that requires a second watch for sure. Insanely good performances all around. Joaquin Phoenix is unsettling at the best of times, but he is a man possessed in this. Amazing.  Beautifully shot as well, as you can see from the trailer below.




And speaking of amazing, off to see Robert Lepage (*artistic swoon*) in the super fantastic "Far side of the Moon" this week with another swooning Lepage fan.  I saw him perform this in Toronto about 12 years ago with a theatre-nut ex, and it changed my view of theatre forever.  No kidding.  Cannot WAIT.

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He makes 60 seem so appealing

Had the privilege of going to see David Byrne & St. Vincent last night at the Centre in Vancouver. Reasons I loved the night (in no particular order)

1. David Byrne - 60 and still making inventive, relevant, unique music - and still busting out those signature dance moves.

2. SECOND ROW SEATS!!! Wow. So great.

3. The Byrne voice over before the gig encouraging people to film, photograph, while being mindful of one's neighbours. Yes. YES.

4. The venue nazi who kept people from sneaking down to the stage. OK maybe I'm a Scrooge but I was loving my aisle seat, and the fact the was no one crammed in the aisle beside me - so more power to you, aisle Nazi!

5. Fantastic horn section. Heck, fantastic musicians all round

6. Did I mention second row seats?

7. No opener and an early show. I'm such a late night lightweight that I appreciated that.

These two talents work really well together, no doubt, and the music they've produced is complex, catchy and bright (thanks, horns!). Sure, I missed the tutu Byrne wore last time he was in town, but you can't have everything.

I taped three songs - here is one for your entertainment.  The lighting is a bit harsh in this one, but his dance moves make it worthwhile.


I also saw Sarah Polley's fantastic documentary "Stories we Tell" - beautifully conceived, postmodernist delightfulness - after "Take this Waltz" (LOVE that film), Polley may be my new Canadian filmmaking hero.  In this one, she interviews her family and family friends as she pieces together the story of her mother, and ultimately of herself.  Really, really worthwhile.  And for me, strangely timely as I had just had a conversation with my brother the night before about events from childhood - and how, like in Polley's film, our memories of the same events, and the stories we carry with us, are unique, incomplete, molded by time and by our own individual perceptions.  Engaging stuff, and well worth a watch.

VIFF 2012 - over and out

And to be honest, I saw a lot of solid films, but few I would really push anyone to see.  My best day of the fest was last Friday - the last day as it happens.  A couple of films really stayed with me - one, like a bad dream, the other quite the opposite.

The bad dream?  Virgin Tales, a great Swiss documentary following the Wilsons, an Evangelical Christian family headed by Randy, field director for the Family Research Council (shudder) and founder of the father/daughter Purity Ball (double shudder).  A fascinating glimpse into a world that I find, quite honestly, terrifying.  Listening to the 20 year old daughter wait for her perfect man to miraculously appear while dismissing utility of higher education and embracing teaching young women how to modestly drink from water fountains made my head hurt.  The director handles it all with a considered, delicate hand.  Well worth a watch.



And making my head hurt for a very different reason? How to Grow a Band, which follows the insanely talented Chris Thile as he embarks on his new project, the Punch Brothers - and their first tour, which revolves around Thile's 40 minute string quartet written for bluegrass instruments. Try to sell THAT to an audience thinking they are in for a typical night of traditional bluegrass. Typical bluegrass this isn't, by any means; nor is Thile your average musician- footage of him playing a mandolin like a pro before he was anywhere near puberty left me shaking my head. I'm not a huge bluegrass fan by any means, but I love me a band that really stretches the borders like these guys do.
Here is a clip from the second movement of the 40 minute work
And just for fun, a cover of Radiohead's Kid A.

Debating whether to go see their show at the Chan Centre in November - the only thing holding me back is that I need to travel on work the next day. We shall see... And in other news, my weekend highlight was a rip roaring games night with good pals - and a happy birthday celebration for the talented, lovely Avril. Fun, fun, fun time :)

Portland, portLAND, PORtland

Back from a whirlwind long weekend with my pal A in guess where? Man, I really do love Portland. We stayed with friends of A's just outside the city - convenient, and they were great hosts. And the weather was insanely beautiful. Walking around in early October with bare legs and no coat? Unless you're homeless or crazy, that's just not usual. So what did we get up to?

• Coffee. And lots of it.
• Enjoying the food options in a truly Gluten Free mecca - whole cafes dedicated to GF baking - it is enough to make you cry.
• Powell's Books. Powell's Books. Powell's Books. If I say it three times, does that mean one will appear in Vancouver? Gads I LOVE that store. Between us we bought about 20lbs of books I believe (we actually weighed them) - next time, we will drive down so we can pack the whole trunk full.
• A night at the theatre. A bit campy, but boy the sets and art direction were amazing.  More amazing? The couple sitting a few rows ahead that were Portlandia incarnate.  
• An afternoon at the Japanese Garden. Calm sigh.
• The farmer's market at Portland State University. LOVED IT. Such a gorgeous setting and amazing produce, cheeses, meats, GF baking, and peppers you could watch being barrel roasted right before your eyes.
• Trader Joe's. I know, I know, not that exciting for you American types, but it is a magical land of inexpensive surprises for us poor Canadians.
• A whole lot of walking and exploring and appreciating. Portland just feels so very livable.

If I was 24, I would be going to school there, no doubt.  There is a vibrancy and artsy quirkiness that is just so darned appealing - and unlike Vancouver, the city somehow manages to pull it off without pretension.

I've skipped over a lot of stuff, but I'm running out of steam. My one regret? Missing the Grizzly Bear concert, but my valiant sibling pretty much video'd the whole thing so I can get a sense of the wonder that I missed (check it out here)

Stumptown Coffee.  So good.

An example of what has become the all pervasive trend in signage in Portland - multi-font, slightly folksy. It is EVERYWHERE

OMFG EXCELLENT GLUTEN FREE BEER IS POSSIBLE!!!!! 

PSU Farmer's Market

PSU Farmer's Market

Beautiful cherry toms

Japanese Garden - so lovely, such great patterns.

Yep.

Look down....

Ya, I didn't do much clothes shopping, but this little number came home with me.  Figured I could scare Mags with the fox mask.  OK, ok, maybe not.

Don't give me false hope

( *if you are viewing this on an iPad, for some reason it will show the most recent video I've posted, not what I've actually embedded - so you'll have to view on your computer to see the right vids - or tell me how to fix this!!*)
Couple of videos from Glen Hansard's EXCELLENT show at the Vogue this week - first, Back Broke


And When Your Mind's Made Up....enjoy (I did!)

Off to PORTLAND today - more later :)

September - over and out!

I feel like I haven't actually had time to blog recently - life has been busy, but lovely busy.  And today is one of those days where I can't keep my good mood at bay.

What has been going on in September? (and I am writing these down mainly so I don't forget how much I enjoyed this month)

• a wonderful dinner out with my dear pal T - I haven't seen her since May (faaaar too long), followed by this play - funny and surprisingly moving.  Rebecca Northan is genius - she manages to bring humour to the experience without ever making the laughs happen at the expense of the bewildered "date".  If I could have found the time to see it again, I would have.
• VIFF-AWAY!  Yes, the Vancouver International Film Fest has started.  I've seen a couple of films that I've quite enjoyed so far - No , and Teddy Bear.  In summary, No is the one starring the actor with an oversized head; Teddy Bear is the one starring the actor with the oversized body.  13 more screenings to go.
• A dance performance by amazing American dance company Cedar Lake, with my brother.  Neither of us knows a stitch about dance, but that doesn't stop the fascination.

• Hikes in the woods with the lovely L.  Healing for body and soul. Enough said.
• A night with The Shins (well, even if singer James Mercer is the only original member, we will still call the The Shins).  Proof once again that musically Portland was and is awesome.  My video? Not so much, but it will do (I ran out of space at the end, sorry)

• A splurge on a fab pair of oxblood Miz Mooz high boots.  Too many boots? NEVER.
• And...the joy of looking forward to some time off work, more films, more concerts, and a trip to Portland next weekend.

No complaints from my world, right at this moment...