"Counting the stars all around."

"Do you know anyone?"

Things PF and I saw while wandering the streets with CW and SAD:

Geoffrey Rush! Ye olde pirate himself!

CW and I saw him first, coming towards us, sporting a small bandage on his forehead. Within seconds, before we could inquire or merely wonder about the head wound, he was posing for a photo with two young men who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Wow, the Film Festival! It's nuts. Anyway, GR soon ducked down the walkway beside The Cumberland, and that was the last we saw of him.

Later, PF and I walked by Monica Bellucci as she stepped out of a car. Wearing a lot of makeup and high-heeled suede boots, she stumbled on the pavement in front of the Lobby Bar (yet another interview location for this year's festival). Everyone -- the Lobby Bouncer, Bellucci's companions and handlers, even PF and I -- lurched toward MB like we were about to save her life. She didn't need us.

"Madonna!" she exclaimed, laughing.

"Madonna!" echoed one of her male friends, and suddenly they were gone.

TRACK LISTING: Bebel Gilberto, "All Around"

[NOTE: The image above was taken through an old View-Master; the still of Rowlf working the camera is from one of the Muppet Movie reels.]

"Send me a postcard."

"Tell me a story."

Things PF and I saw today, while wandering the streets of Montreal:

The Brazen woman herself, Rachel Rachna Dhawan, along with her lovely beau, Aaron, at the wonderful café Figaro. We eat deliciously buttery croissants topped with ham, gruyère, tomato and spinach, and drink fresh orange juice and espresso. It's amazing.

As we finish up, we notice Rufus Wainwright and Jimmy Fallon arriving on the patio at the same time. Whether they are arriving together, we cannot say. Rufus played in town the night before, and according to Rachel and Aaron (who were actually at the show), he is set to attend his sister's wedding this weekend. Perhaps Jimmy is in Montreal to film something? Rufus is surrounded by impeccably dressed gay hipsters; Jimmy is accompanied by a male friend. Rufus' table is right next to the sidewalk -- all the better to be seen in Outremont, we are told -- and Jimmy is seated at the table next to it. As we leave the restaurant, we see that Jimmy and his friend have their backs against the exterior wall as if they're joining the conversation at Rufus' table, even though their mouths are closed and they're staring straight ahead. Hmm.

***

Rachel has brought us to Cocoa Locale so we can finally meet Reema (see third photo above and video below). I am in awe of her brilliant skills, as evidenced by the bakery's perfect decor and, of course, its wonderful desserts. We pick up two of each available cupcake -- chocolate chai, coconut with pink frosting, and lemon -- then catch a cab to meet up with another gang as more of Reema's regulars stop by for their favourites.

***

With Liette and Nick acting as guides, CC, AGF and the most charming ADF join us as fellow tourists. We stroll around the city, stopping for hearty empanadas at La Chilenita before heading down to the Old Port. We spot the still-stunning Habitat 67 across the water and are happy that we ended up at such an obvious destination.

[AGF has some great photos from that outing here!]

***

While walking along St-Laurent, we are passed by a man in a hurry. Wearing billowy linen pants and a flowing white shirt, he screams into the BlackBerry pressed to his ear.

"Who the FUCK do you think you're talking to?" He shakes his head and barrels past the pedestrians in front of us.

"Who the FUCK do you think you're talking to?" As he storms into the distance, he raises his voice.

"No. NO! FUCK. YOU!"

***

After a brief rest at Liette and Nick's condo right across from Parc Jarry, we find ourselves feasting at Rugantino: warm bread dipped in fine olive oil; chick pea fries and breaded green olives; shrimps sautéed with lemon and garlic; bresaola with pecorino and truffled arugula; risotto with shrimp and taleggio; veal medallions; a bottle of Sangiovese; tiramisu; sponge cake iced with ricotta and chocolate; pistachio ice cream and field berry sorbet; cups of coffee and espresso; and a bowl of blueberry crème brulée. It is heaven. Pleasantly stuffed and marvelling at our luck, we head back to the hotel, ready to call it a night after an entirely satisfying day.

TRACK LISTING: Pony Up!, "The Truth About Cats and Dogs (Is That They Die)"

[NOTE: And where are Pony Up from? Montreal, of course! Note also that the lion's head door knocker in the second photo above is the same door knocker that I snapped thirteen years ago.]

"Sharp! Like you pulled me out the pencil sharpener!"

"Bad!
Like that student
in the principal's office!"

Things I saw this morning, while walking with PF to the subway station:

A man in a suit and sunglasses having the following conversation with a friend:

SUIT: Wait, what did you see?
FRIEND: Superbad.
SUIT (highly interested): Oh, yeah!
FRIEND: RIDICULOUS.
SUIT: Huh? It was funny?
FRIEND: REALLY funny. The theater was PACKED, too. Sold out.
SUIT: Huh.
FRIEND: I don't think I passed HazMat, though.
SUIT (quietly, reassuringly): You did.
FRIEND: No, I mean, you only have to get three wrong, you know?

It was at this point that PF and I reached the stairs leading down to the station, losing the conversation in the process. PF and I were unable to catch the guys again, so I told him about the confrontation I'd witnessed last night on the subway.

BLONDE TEENAGE GIRL (acting very "hard"): Hey, guy, watch those elbows!
TEENAGE GIRL WITH ICE CREAM CONE (acting equally "gangster"): What did you say to me?

["She called her GUY?" PF asked me, then burst out laughing.]

BLONDE: Yeah, you're hitting me.
ICE CREAM: Oh, no. Hold up.

(ICE CREAM bites into cone loudly, then launches into counterpoint rant with mouth full.)

Whrrfff thrr frrrhhh gwurrr hurrr msshhhh crunch crunch crunch!

BLONDE'S FRIEND (to BLONDE): Come on, don't do this.

(BLONDE sucks her teeth loudly and continues to glare at ICE CREAM, who has turned her attention back to her own friend.)

JAY (my friend, who is with me in the subway car): There is a surprising amount of testosterone in here.

Ice Cream kept smacking her lips like she was eating, even after she'd finished, then asked her friend, "Isn't it NASTY when there's nothing left in it?" She meant the cone, and her friend silently turned her half-eaten cone outward to show Ice Cream that some Rocky Road or whatever remained. Ice Cream shrugged. "I guess," she sighed, which was the last thing we heard as we got off the train.

Jay said, "That girl is SO Vicky Pollard!" I asked him which one and he replied, "All of them, really." Then I said that I didn't know who Vicky Pollard was so he had to point the character out on the back of a Little Britain DVD package, and I had to agree with what everything he said earlier.

TRACK LISTING: Mystikal, "Danger (Been So Long)"

[NOTE: The model in the image above is the wonderful John Caffery of Kids On TV and he AIN'T NO JOKE. Anyone who ever caught him dancing his ass off at Vazaleen undoubtedly remains in awe of the man.]

"Oh! What would I do, if not for you?"

"Anyway,
it wouldn't ring true,
if not for you."

Things I saw online today, courtesy of a Defamer article and an Ion Cinema link:

The trailer for I'm Not There.

Though I like Bob Dylan, I never thought I'd be interested in this film. Now I feel like I want to see it! Yes, I've witnessed how Todd Haynes has handled the musical biopic in the past, but despite my severe disappointment in Velvet Goldmine (and some might even call that disappointment "hate"), I can't help but be fond of Superstar (or at least the idea of Superstar, as I've never actually seen the film and will likely never see it as it's all banned and whatnot). Maybe I'm Not There won't be surprisingly boring and muddled. Er...hmmm.

(Hey! Do you think Haynes will have various musicians cover Dylan's songs for a soundtrack album, instead of just limiting the interpretations to actors? That Velvet Goldmine record was fun!)

Okay, but Far From Heaven was beautiful, right? So I'm willing to believe that Haynes can admirably tackle period pieces of any style, as opposed to just the gay ones. I don't know. I mean, there's a good chance that I'm Not There will be pretentious nonsense, but...man, Cate Blanchett is awesome, isn't she? I don't even care about Batman or The Joker and his lovely wife fiancée, all of whom I generally love. No, if I end up watching this thing, it'll probably be because of Blanchett and Blanchett alone. I'm smitten!

TRACK LISTING: Bob Dylan, "If Not for You"

[NOTE: The model in the photo at the top of this entry is my husband, who is not a Bob Dylan fan.]

"People and places, said you were forgetting them all."

"Think of how lucky we are
for the things that we've had."

Things I saw on the VIA website this afternoon:

Tickets to Montreal!

Finally! My husband will FINALLY see Montreal (the New York to Toronto's Seattle, you know), not to mention the large Musée that he and I have been talking about for a while. Part of the deal is a three-night stay at the Queen Elizabeth, which means that this will be a good Labour Day weekend for me, too, haha.

Seriously, though, there is so much to see -- and so many people to see -- that I'm not exactly sure how we'll manage. Our tour guide will be excellent, we are sure, but she certainly has her work cut out for her.

Li! Rachel! Nick! Leila! Duffers! Lisa J and the Wills Sisters! Kimby! Kevin! Erika! JB! We are coming to your town and we are excited.

TRACK LISTING: Blue Rodeo, "Montreal"

[NOTE: The image above is a scanned page from a diary that I briefly kept in 1994. Back then I was much more interested in putting the focus on my photos rather than my words, so...plus ça change, I guess.]

[UPDATE 03-Sep-07: How could I have forgotten Baggy O and The Robot from CJLO on that list of Montrealers above? I am so stupid. Luckily, Omar and Alex are very forgiving. They begrudgingly agreed to meet us for brunch on the morning of Sunday, September 2, and even brought the lovely Emilie along with them. We are forever in their debt. CREDIT CARD?]

"Strangely familiar tracks are falling."

"I'm glad you're here!"

Things I saw after dinner this evening, while searching for dessert with CW, SAD and PF:

Lauren R (as shown)!

I met Lauren while she was working for CFRC; it was probably three years ago, give or take a few months, and it was probably at The Grad Club, though it could very well have been at Elixir that we were first acquainted. I always called her "The Laurens" because she worked with another Lauren, but also because I didn't know her last name until tonight. This was probably unfair of me. I mean, how hard is it to ask someone for their last name so you can come up with some distinguishing nickname? (See previous paragraph.)

I think the last time I saw Lauren R was at The Grad Club as well, though again, it could have been Elixir. It was definitely about a year ago, but it might have been two years ago. I was sure that I would find the last photo I took of her among the others, but impossibly, I cannot find a single picture of LR in there. It's strange, but it makes this photo of her all the more valuable.

TRACK LISTING: Saint Etienne, "Been So Long"

[NOTE: The photo above was taken at Moonbean, where I was surprised and slightly confused to see Lauren, as I'd only ever known her to reside in Kingston. We spoke at length; she used the word "groovy" a lot, which I liked, then rang up my vegan chocolate-almond cookie to go.]

"Oh no, oh no, I'll be your sister!"

"Oh no, oh no,
I'll be your brother!"

Things PF and I saw this evening, as cute and funny as always:

THE BEANERS!

They are so lovely.

TRACK LISTING: Midge Ure with Kate Bush, "Brother and Sister"

"I had a dream."

"I had an awesome dream."

Things I saw online today:

This post by /a -- but before we go any further, let's just give old AGF a hearty "Welcome Back!" and not even bother with the "Where have you been?"

Now let's move on, as his post is not actually the point of this one. Basically, his whole Kim Carnes=Rod Stewart thing reminded me of being a kid and refusing to believe that the line from "Say You, Say Me" was "I had an awesome dream." For some reason I could not comprehend the idea of an "awesome" dream, and figured that the line must be "I had an awful dream." (That I could only imagine dreams to be awful and not awesome speaks volumes, probably, and may eventually lead me to a therapist's couch, but obviously we'll have to leave those stories for later dates.)

Really, what a/'s post reminded me of was a conversation I had with Rob and Brendan and PF on Friday night. We were sitting around R&B's new living room eating angel food cake with whipped cream and strawberries; "Say You, Say Me" started playing on the TV, so I felt compelled to tell them about my childhood interpretation of the "dream" line. I finished speaking in time to sing along with the lyrics in question, at which point Brendan cracked up and all I could see was a mouth full of Cool Whip, so I promptly forgot everything and started laughing at his ensuing struggle to swallow.

Anyway, "Say You, Say Me" played on the radio this morning as well, like some friendly reminder from out of the ether. Thanks, universe! I GET IT NOW.

TRACK LISTING: Lionel Richie, "Say You, Say Me"

"Such a cosy room!"

"The windows are illuminated
by the sunshine through them."

Things I saw and explored today:

The new home of R&B!

The warmest of housewarming wishes to you, Rob and Brendan (and you too, Rocky and Paco, you adorable, crazy, tiny dogs).

TRACK LISTING: Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, "Our House"

"Don't give up! Don't give up!"

"Do you remember,
once upon a time,
when there were open doors?"

Things I saw this morning on YouTube:

See above.

I was led to this ad by a funny and interesting article, to which I was led by another article; and in fact I was led to the previously mentioned article by this article, so, um, thank you Gawker?

Anyway, it seemed an appropriate theme to explore today, as PF and I are about to head north to the new, fabulously accessorized home of my super gay ex-roommates. These ex-roommates are both super gay and just plain super, and thus I am very much looking forward to spending the next two days with them. Also, I am obviously too lazy to find an original photo for this post. (Wow! Twice in one week! My slothy nature is really shining through, isn't it?)

Happy weekend, everybody! Go out and kiss somebody you adore.

TRACK LISTING: Erasure, "Chains of Love"

"This one goes out to the one I love."

"This one goes out
to the one I've left
behind."

Things I saw on Gawker this afternoon:

Reading into the past.

It's a bit heartbreaking to find inscribed books in thrift stores or giveaway boxes on the sidewalk. It's also highly intriguing; one has to wonder what circumstances led to these books being discarded. Inscriptions are usually notes from one person to another, so it seems safe to assume that most of these books were once gifts. Of course, many of the other donated or trashed items were once gifts as well, so why do inscribed books deserve a higher degree of sentimentality? What gives them more value than other gifts -- the fact that the greeting card is permanently attached?

Sometimes books simply must go. After all, we can't hang on to every little thing forever! Yet not every inscribed book found by a rummaging stranger can be a simple case of someone going minimal, with no hard feelings. There must be some instances in which the book's giver and receiver had a real falling out; or, perhaps, the giver died and the receiver found it too difficult to keep the book around. In either situation, the book is too strong a reminder of days gone by.

A few months ago, PF and I found an inscribed book at a monolithic chain bookstore in a downtown mall. It was a guide for fathers-to-be that I'd seen before in a bathroom belonging to the brother of a friend; the copy that we held was not the same one that I'd seen, as evidenced by the names in the inscription. Mazal Tov!, the giver had written in closing, in blue pen, accented by a hand-drawn Star of David. On the cover was a sticker that discounted the price of the book by 50 percent, which outraged PF. "How could they put this back on sale?" he asked, as he prepared to bring the book to a cash register and demand that it be removed from the shelf for good. It's strange that a bookstore would resell a personalized item, but what hit us so hard was this sense of sadness, that the decision to return this particular book was not a happy or easy one. I imagined many depressing scenarios, from a rift between the giver and receiver to a miscarriage forcing the formerly expectant father to get rid of a now unnecessary guide. All guesses drew the same conclusion: the book was too strong a reminder.

"Maybe the guy just needed the money he'd get from returning this book," PF suggested, referring to the receiver, or maybe even a giver with somewhat late second thoughts.

"Yeah," I agreed, "or maybe the pregnant couple already had a copy of it." Why shouldn't this be the reason for the return?

PF handed me the book and I placed it back on the shelf. These logical explanations soothed us, as if we needed closure, too.

TRACK LISTING: R.E.M., "The One I Love"

[NOTE: The image above is the cover photo of an album we have of prints we've found abandoned in various places, like junk shops and the middle of the street.]

"A pair of eyes, a voice, a touch."

"Complete surprise!"

Things I saw today, running around our apartment, bouncing around the city, laughing and shouting:

ADELAAAAAIDE!

Man, Addy is developing so quickly! Soon she'll be a year old.

It's a pleasure to see how she changes and exhibits her personality. She chatted without words; threw and chased an inflatable beach ball; and built a pillow fort, tumbling about it while we and her parents watched a movie. She attempted to read a book, then watched wide-eyed with a tapping foot as a children's video rolled. We were fascinated by it all. I couldn't help staring in admiration as she played makeshift soccer with her dad and my husband like a miniature version of her athletic mother, shuttling a small plush cube back and forth across our kitchen floor without losing her balance, all the while hissing "Kih! Kih!" as she imitated our cheers of "Kick! Kick!"

Have a wonderful first birthday, Lady A, you little wonder.

TRACK LISTING: Peter Gabriel, "Growing Up"

"How do you like your eggs in the morning?"

"Boiled or fried?"
"I'm satisfied!"

Things I saw on Saturday morning:

Our favourite brunch spot, sort of becoming our regular brunch spot.

It's not exactly around the corner or down the street, but since we stumbled into Over Easy on a rainy afternoon last summer, PF and I have returned many times. We've gone by ourselves, we've brought friends along with us, and we always feel like we made the right choice. The atmosphere is comfortable and relaxed, even when the place is packed, and we have never had a bad meal.

There are certainly prettier restaurants with finer food in this city, and we don't shy away from those, but in PF's constantly thwarted quest for house-brewed and, more importantly, unsweetened iced tea, Over Easy is a beacon. Apart from figuring out which dish to have, the choice really isn't that difficult to make.

TRACK LISTING: Dean Martin & Helen O'Connell, "How Do You Like Your Eggs"

"Well, everybody, I am going home."

"I am going home!"

Things I saw this evening:

Our office's beloved Dylana Perera, on her last night in town. Best of luck in Belize, D! May all your wishes come true.

Later that evening, on my own way home, I stop in at Bathurst's Food for two pints of Cherry Garcia in frozen yogurt form. A man whose small dog is waiting outside is waiting patiently for me to grab the tubs so he can open the other sliding door on the deep freezer.

"Broke up with your boyfriend?" he asks, good-naturedly.

"Actually, one of these is for my husband," I tell him.

He laughs. "Uh-oh!" I grin.

"We can't share!" I exclaim, whisking the Ben & Jerry's off to the cash register. I don't tell the man that my husband will be lucky if he manages to score a quarter-cup of the stuff, or that I plan to grab a spoon and dig in as soon as I walk through our front door. It's summer time, people! Ice cream and its delicious frozen relatives are fair game.

TRACK LISTING: Bob Marley, "I Am Going Home"

"Your physique is swelling and your waistline's telling!"

"And I guess you're gonna miss
a lot of school!"

Things I saw on the big screen today:

Grounds for a lawsuit!

Seriously, though, I feel stupid for paying any attention to the litigation, as the claim made by Rebecca Eckler is ridiculous, frivolous, and quite possibly just a publicity stunt from a woman who is notoriously self-absorbed.

Speaking of navel gazing (both literal and figurative, in Eckler's case)
-- and since we're on the subject of alleged intellectual theft -- the infamous Apatow-Brazill e-mail exchange never fails to amuse. "You're a hack!" "No, YOU'RE a hack!" "You, sir, are nothing more than a television writer!" (I ripped that last bit off, sort of, from a line that Warden Gentiles spits at Tobias while Tobias is attempting "prison research" for his upcoming role as Frightened Inmate No.2. "You're no more than a television actor," the warden tells him, or something like that. Sure, sure, it's not the funniest joke in the episode, but I told you that I recently watched a lot of Arrested Development, so I've got the whole series on the brain. Now, where were we? Ah, yes:) And so on. My favorite part of the exchange involves Apatow throwing down a "J'accuse!!!!" Take that, Brazill! Anyway, speaking of Apatow, and amusement...

I very much enjoyed Knocked Up! Okay, so the scene in which Alison has her eight-week ultrasound was a little difficult to watch as it hit a bit too close to home, but it was certainly less difficult to watch than the crowning close-ups (which I didn't watch at all, in fact, preferring instead to bury my head in PF's shoulder. Yes, that's right! I am TOTALLY ready to have a baby). Aside from these instances, I thought my $12 was quite well spent. I mean, I laughed a lot more than I thought I would -- throughout the entire movie, really -- and I haven't laughed that hard in a movie theater for a long time. It was kind of therapeutic, actually, and definitely one of the best ways to spend our Saturday afternoon.

TRACK LISTING: Dan Baird, "Knocked Up"

"And I feel real cool and I feel real good."

"And I'm happy in my prime."

Things I saw today:

The peace and quiet of our apartment as I am given another day to rest and recover from Wednesday's minor drama.

The morning sun beaming into the living room is so beautiful! This juice that I am drinking is delicious. I am very happy to eat a breakfast burrito for lunch! I am well pleased that I can stage an Arrested Development marathon while enjoying a few squares of rich, dark chocolate. I am looking forward to my husband coming home after work; I look forward to returning to my own job on Monday! I don't really want to look back anymore. Anyway, I wouldn't change a thing.

TRACK LISTING: Sinéad O'Connor, "Daddy I'm Fine"

"Touchy subject!"

"I ain't wanna paint this picture!"

Things I saw on the subway this morning:

Thong-th-thong-thong-thong!

Well, actually, it wasn't so much thong as it was top of faded purple thong, with tag turned out for all to see, between rumpled white cotton t-shirt and very low-slung brown trousers. The woman wearing the thong in question had just made a nice gesture, getting up from her seat a little early so that a middle-aged woman could sit down, so PF and I felt like we should do something nice for her and tell her that her underwear AND underwear tag were showing.

Except we didn't know how to tell her! How do you politely inform a complete stranger that her clothing is in a compromising position? I mean, why were we even looking in the first place, right? We chickened out and tried not to stare at the tag that was basically gouging our eyes out. I thought maybe she might, eventually, hopefully sooner than later, absentmindedly tug her shirt down as women often do when they feel as if a draft is whooshing up their backs, and possibly down their backs as well. But I also thought that it would serve me right if I walked around for the rest of my day with, like, a wad of chewing gum stuck to my bum.

TRACK LISTING: Erick Sermon, "Do You Know"

"So we stay at home."

"And I'm by your side."

Things I saw in the apartment today:

Some peace; some quiet; and the calming presence of my husband, as we are both given the day off to figure out how to deal with a small loss. This sort of thing happens, every day and every hour, and this time it's happened to us. That's all.

TRACK LISTING: Depeche Mode, "Here is the House"

"Make you come home early."

"Make you stay out
all night long."

Things I saw on the way to meet PF for dinner:

Further proclamations.

A few poles down from where I scrawled my own response, someone has followed the "LOVE IS" lead by writing, "your girlfriend." There is a second "LOVE IS" poster pasted directly below, in which someone mentions something about a summer day.

One large block later, on the northeast corner of King and Spadina, someone has filled the white spaces with now-smeared burgundy lipstick. Four "LOVE IS" posters wrap around this pole; all four feature the same smudged shade. One of the replies appears to be "STUPID." Another reads, "A WASTE OF TIME." The other two are lost forever.

Less than twenty feet away, someone has completed one of the posters in pencil:

LOVE IS
LOVE.

TRACK LISTING: Al Green, "Love and Happiness"

"I went looking for a headline."

"Got talking to the backline;
they'd never seen the action."

Things PF and I saw as we headed to the gym to change our membership payment method:

A block of the street barricaded, with police cruisers parked nearby. We thought it might be a protest of some sort but there was nothing really happening. There was a crowd of people milling about within the closed-off area; kids and cops were posing for photos. Everyone seemed to be happy. There weren't any signs or banners. We kept moving.

Walking on the sidewalk sheltered from the construction of yet another condo building, we find ourselves behind a man speaking to a friend walking a few paces ahead. The man is lazily holding a cigarette; the friend looks back and slightly increases his pace. We realize that the man with the cigarette is not actually speaking to anyone, save himself.

As we approach the corner, the man looks back at us, then takes a sharp turn onto the road. He is walking towards a small group of police officers who are guarding the north end of the stockade.

"We're losing in Iraq!" he yells. "We're losing in Iran! Good job! GOOD JOB!"

TRACK LISTING: Midnight Oil, "Armistice Day"