Thursday morning, 10:30 a.m.
Up early.
(Well, not early, but early. You know?)
Oh fuck, I have brunch with Ellen at 11. I won’t make it.
[insert trying to make it, failing]
Can I push by half an hour?
– Yeah sure. Just let me know.
Cool, thanks.
Meet her at 12. Naturally.
This is good. Sparrow is just opening.
Ellen, you look great! How are you?
This server looks familiar.
Hey, it’s you, Emma, right? From Orillia Opry? I used to live with your cousin?
– Hi Dave.
I saw your cousin last night. She’s moving back to BC?
– Really? I should call her. Tell her to call me.
Are you making music anymore? Orillia Opry was dope.
– No. Gonna maybe try soon. (I’m paraphrasing.)
You should. I liked your band. I LIKE YOUR STEEZ + YOU ARE SO PRETTY, EMMA.
You know what’s awesome? Coffee.
Then calamari + lime + chili.
You know what else is awesome? The apple BLT at Sparrow.
Ellen eats a big ol’ burger and my jealousy raaaaaaages.
Then I remember the Nouveau Palais cheeseburger from last night.
***BLISS***
Jealous.
Ellen and I catch up. We talk about C2-MTL.
We met working on/at the conference.
We talk about fantastic people like Caroline.
Francis, Jean-Baptiste.
Alexis, Sophie.
Etc.
(C2-MTL is THE TRUTH guys. For reals. Look into it. It’s pretty much the best.)
We talk about how I suck at billing people.
About how creative freelancers always sell themselves/their work short.
Liam Maloney gave me this same talk last week.
(I have to rethink what money is, what it means, and how to get more of it…
…so I can spend it on 7″ records and really good artisan peanut butter.)
(And scotch.)
BrunchLunch over. Walk Ellen home.
Stop in at Brian’s, on same street. We’re supposed to have dinner later.
HI BRIAN.
OKAY I’LL MEET YOU THEN.
Between this then (1:30) and that then (5):
Back to Alex’s. Write. Facebook. Twitter. Fantasy baseball. Email. Nap.
Café Olimpico with Jason Bajada?
Long, in-the-sun chats?
Yes please.
Sun’s shining. Girls are walking on St-Viateur.
Convo paraphrase:
– You miss it here.
Yes.
– You doing okay?
Working at it.
– Good.
Long and hard is the way that out of hell leads up to light.
(See, guys, I went to college.)
Happy hour beers with Brian at Bar Waverly.
The Dark Knight Rises; Tom Hardy; New Spider-Man; Anne Hathaway…
…old friends of ours like John Lennox, and music, and Chicago, and artists suffering…
…and his teaching, and my teaching…
…me being sick for a bit, altering life, altering perspectives.
I’m happy to be home. To be here.
– You seem good.
I am.
– That’s good.
For dinner: Nouveau Palais. Why?
You have to try this fucking cheeseburger. It’s exceptional.
– Okay.
(Paraphrase from post-burger.)
– This was awesome.
I know, right?
– Let’s talk/hang/coffee tomorrow.
(exeunt Brian)
At this point I am fully aware that I am not going to see any music tonight. Plans are to see a dear friend for quiet drinks and quieter conversation.
Shower.
Change.
SAQ.
Shiraz acquired.
Cab.
Music-seeing set to resume Friday evening with Zammuto, Yamantaka, Hollerado, and more.
[!!@#$%^&*&^%$#@!]
The first POP post is here.
Share that one and this one with your friends via dem Twitters and el Facebook.
(NB: I’m late-posting September 20th’s post because to cover POP Montréal you have to do it and write about it after. By this math I’ll have one post to make up — which I’ll do sometime next week.)
This is the twentieth post in my #30posts challenge.
Don’t know what that is? Read this.