Jon Lajoie live show

ScaryClown and I saw Jon Lajoie at The Plaza last night. The opening act was forgettable, but by the time Jon appeared the place was pretty much full. He did a lot more talking than singing, and didn’t end up doing more than four or five tunes. However, he did both “High As F***” and the “2 Girls, 1 Cup song”, so we were happy. The crowd clearly knew Jon from his videos, based on their reactions to videos shown on a big screen behind the stage. Some of those videos were new bits, including “How to get away with murdering a random street person.” Many in the crowd – including myself – sang along with our favourites. Overall, not a brilliant performance, but a lot of fun.

Brian Eno believes that singing is the key to a good life

From an interesting NPR article, here’s Brian Eno on singing as a path to happiness:

Singing aloud leaves you with a sense of levity and contentedness. And then there are what I would call “civilizational benefits.” When you sing with a group of people, you learn how to subsume yourself into a group consciousness because a capella singing is all about the immersion of the self into the community. That’s one of the great feelings — to stop being me for a little while and to become us. That way lies empathy, the great social virtue.

I am here and safe in Paris….

….and exsanguinating money like a drunken film star.  This keyboard is French; it is hard to convey how hard it is to type anything and make sense.  No USB cable so no pics.  Paris is a pretty overwhelming city but certain things about it just make loads of sense.  The legendary rudeness of Parisians is pretty much a thing of the past; everybody we have run into has either been super nice or just kinda clueless; hardly malicious.  I am taking daily notes and will provide more detail upon my return…. any blogging I do in the meantime will be cursory as it took me about twenty minutes just to type this!

Best …. line …. evar

So.  There is this filksong called The Mad Scientist’s Love Song which is performed by Lady Miss B and Dr. Filk.  In a startling development, they reversed roles and Dr. Filk got to be the charming assistant.

When I commented that I had never actually seen Dr. Filk in a dress before, this was the response from LMB (emphasis added by moi):

Subject: Re: Dr Filk’s ballgown

My favourite part was how he accessorized with big chunky biker boots.

Okay, no, my favourite part was him saying “Why, what would a day be like
 without a little public humiliation? I’ll probably never find out.”


I’m recovering today from walking all the way from King to Bloor last night.  Met Dave JD at Jump, walked about downtown for a while, ended up at C’est What, and I want to tell you ALL that I will die fulfilled and happy, because I HAVE HAD A BEER FLOAT.  Yes, the C’est What has Hazelnut Chocolate Bitter floats, with whipped cream and ice cream and a maraschino cherry.  Each mouthful had at least four flavours; the final top note of the hops in the Bitter danced on my palate for about 15 minutes before I regretfully had to wake up a bit with coffee and water.  PS, the meal at Jump was solid but there’s no ******* way it was worth $100 even with the alcohol.  Then we walked all the way up Yonge, deking into the Eaton Centre so I could see what it looked like tarted up for Xmas (worth seeing), and then coming back out of the PATH to view the ******* mess they made of the intersection of Dundas and Yonge. 

The entire downtown core is a mess of sodium vapour orange, metallic blue and piercing white LED lights festooned from every lamppost and filling every square; total Xmas yield = + 350 ugly points.  We continued up the street.  The Swiss Chalet I ate at multiple times a week when I was working at the Delta Chelsea is still there.  Many other landmarks are gone but plenty remain.  David’s is still on the corner of Yonge and Bloor with its array of expensive shoes; the Pilot is still there just off Yonge in Yorkville.  As is standard I did most of the talking; sometimes I wonder if Dave ever is thinking “When will she STFU?”  He deked into a CD joint and insisted on picking up a couple of Weakerthans CD’s so you may all be assured that Dave’s role in my life as somebody who forces me to refine my taste while I broaden my horizons continues.

We ended up at Flow for the last drink of the evening and after another fifteen minutes of aimlessly wandering around Yorkville while I critiqued the dresses in the window (Jesus, if I was a man I wouldn’t go near a woman dressed like that, I’d be afraid of getting caught on something, etc.) we decided that fun as it had been Dave had to go to work in the morning, so about 10:15 we packed it in; I came home by cab.

Vancouverites, listen up!  The cab driver ASKED ME IF HE COULD TAKE THE CALL when his cell phone rang.  I don’t know how often you take cabs (I gotsk no car, so I do a lot) but I nearly choked on my tongue when he said that.  I thanked him profusely and tipped him according to his deserts.  Speaking of which, prob’ly the funniest part of the evening was how animated Dave got when lecturing me (humourously, not pompously) about the importance of tipping.  The how, the why, the way it’s an inexpensive and effective way of spreading joy, the importance of not looking like a cheap bastard (I paraphrase).

I think I’m coming back in February.  There’s a play I want to see, and I like going to Toronto for Valentine’s day and hanging with friends – I had an AMAZING time the last time.  It’ll be a little awkward seeing as how I’ll just be back from Belize – current planning – who knows – but frankly now that I’ve figured out that I need to quit travelling on cheap airlines I think I’ll have a lot better time.

PS we leave for France soon.  Happy sigh!

At Tammy’s

Working backwards, I am ‘staying above the fray’ as Tammy and the exterminator battle with termites (this part of Toronto has them, and what can you do, eh?), I ate her goat cheese and garden picked oregano omelette (and it was nommy) with fruit and nut bread; I slept great, and in fact about two hours longer than I normally do; we had a very pleasant evening (she bought me Tuborg, the saintly creature, as she never has beer in the house); we figured out where I’ll be spending at least part of my restaurant money in Paris; I arranged to see Dave JD at Jump today around supper time (but nobody else in Toronto, I’ll make a special trip back for that) while Tammy’s at choir practice; I had a pleasant trip by transit from the airport (this being possible because I got to sit the whole way even though it was rush hour when I arrived) and then Tammy picked me up at Pape Station; I had a very pleasant flight because at the last minute I changed my seat selection from 34 row to 44 row (767-200, but Paul probably already knew that) so I had nobody sitting next to me fore. aft, port and starboard and I was close to an aisle and washroom AND I’d never been on an aircraft with functioning video-on-demand in the cheap seats, so I was actually SURPRISED when they called ‘we are starting our descent’; I got my money back from the WORST breakfast sandwich evar and by way of apology the server brought me a free bottle of water; Jeff very kindly dropped me off at the airport; I got a reasonable night’s sleep the night before.

Anyway, I’ll only be going near a computer or screen in the most minimal way for this time off, as it’s obvious my internet addiction is hijacking what’s left of my life, so if you don’t mind I’m off to abuse Pentium and George, two of the nicest and most sucky middle aged cats I’ve ever met, both of whom think I’m kinda keen.  George slept on my feet last night and emitted never a peep.  Happy sigh!  Also, and this if for Keith, Tammy of Surpassing Excellence has Alan Moore’s Lost Girls in hardcover… can such things be?  Who needs the internet?  PS it’s snowing…. that desultory November snow….

It has suddenly occurred to me that I Don’t Want to Go To France.  I want to stay in bed for two weeks.  However, life will likely hand me that kind of vacation in the form of a dire illness at somepointinmylife so maybe I should just do a tarot reading for the trip to France and see if I can apply some mellow to my pre-travel jitters.

Gee whizzickers spirit of the Tarot, leave the rebukiness at home wujja?

Anyway the tarot reading said, and I paraphrase “Don’t be such a ****** wuss; it will be a great trip, there will be great spiritual benefit and you will return in triumph.  Are you nuts?  Do you think you don’t deserve a trip like this?”  With (harrumphing) a side of references to self-delusion and feeling lonely.

I tell people I got the world’s most no nonsense tarot deck and they don’t believe me.  I still can’t believe my last reading for Tanya; she asked for a blind reading (no question, and no cues for the reader) and at the end of it, I said, “I will stake my reputation this reading isn’t about you at all – this is about your brother”, because she’s been really concerned with his fate, of late.

Anyway, I’m slowly going through the checklist.  I feel better though; I know it’s ludicrous and after all what would I have done if it had all been death and destruction (which was Tanya’s reading…).  How can I possibly reconcile reason and the tarot.  I guess I’ll have to sit down and work through the rationale at some point.  I’ve tried in the past but I think I need to take another stab at it; please expect references to string theory and archetypes.

In an hour Jeff and I are off to Petcetera… kittehs HONGRY om nom nom and muts be fooded!  Here’s Gizmo grabbing the mike to sing Bella Chow.


David Byrne and Brian Eno

Ha ha, hipsters!  Die of the jellusy!  On the 20th of February Jeff and I are going to take in the above noted at the QE Theatre!  I mean, if the world doesn’t end first.

Hm, must book tix for B-52s now, before civilization collapses any further and you can’t buy tickets for 80’s bands any more.  At any rate that should be a great show.

Keith was supposed to show up last night and he didn’t show and he didn’t phone.  I have a really solid notion that he went to the Purpose High School Reunion, possibly even with his sister (can such things BE?) in which case he might have been, like, socializing with classmates.  He’s been pushing himself hard on that front lately, to my joy and astonishment.  So, one hopes for a full report but one does not hope too hard.

Coffee…. I love coffee.  I’m having some organic fair trade medium blend right now and thinking about how coffee will shift in our culture yet again.  It being so addictive I don’t imagine it will go away.

I got home around 6:30 last night after sweet talking LTGW into giving me a ride (I had glass dishes from the departmental potluck (spaghetti and sauce) and did not want to lug them home on the bus, and it was POURING rain).  We stopped off for tea and coffee at the Starbucks at Hastings and Kensington and discussed a bewildering variety of things with many violent changes of subject, which anybody who knows me will consider quite standard….  Any conversation that has somebody envying my corpus callosum can’t be all bad.

Hella wind right now.

The house is shaking on its foundations and the branches are all sighing and whistling.

Watched Margot at the Wedding.  Lots of lying and yelling.  Jack Black saved that movie from B+ TV movie mediocrity.  The kid who played Claude was so cute I wanted to pocket him.  Nicole Kidman’s accent wandered the screen like a drunk man’s fancy. Everybody else was reasonable and in good order.