I can't attempt to begin writing livejournal updates the way I used to because they end up taking forever and never exactly going the way I had planned. Sometimes I think my life was tidier when I used livejournal every day. Other days, I can't believe there were literally years of my life I hardly went a day without writing here. It's as though today I am confronted with the question of who I am writing for, and for what purpose.
Everything in my life feels slightly more... purposeful
as I get older. I don't know how to explain it. Intentional.
Right now, I'm sitting in the living room, listening to records and taking a break from reading some books I took out from the library. Lulu is sitting next to me, sleeping. Sometimes snoring in that little tiny kitten way she does sometimes. I love having her around so much it is absurd. What was my life like before this little black cat? Not as good, not even close.
Simon is away in Moncton for some festival or other (isn't that always the case) and I've been feeling restless. Antsy in the house, because it's not as clean as it usually is since we haven't had the chance to do a good clean since Simon went to France in August. But I don't feel like cleaning because I'm still kind of sick from last week, sneezy and congested.
To avoid the feeling of stagnating, or sitting in front of the computer for hours, I've forced myself out of my comfort zone. Every night this week I have taken a walk after work. A walk down a street I don't often go, to neighbourhoods I usually just bike past or whatnot. Monday I took my camera but found myself tempted to try and capture all the little moments of poetry I saw happening around me: the cat in the window, the crooked old streetlights, the children playing, and of course the sunset. The neon pink light and shadows of leaves cast on hundred year old houses, perched on the cliffs of Quebec City. I tried and failed to capture it in photographs, shitty little digital snapshots, so Tuesday and tonight I left it at home.
Record that is playing right now is La Femme's Psycho Tropical Berlin. Before that, I listened to Bronski Beat's Age of Consent (his voice gets really grating after 3, 4, 5 songs) and Austra's Olympia. Funny to think that Katie Stelmanis slept in the living room where I'm listening to her record tonight.
In other music notes, I saw Maica Mia
this past weekend and fell in love. Hints of Jennifer Castle and Scout Niblet. It's not often I see tall women with electric guitars on stage and it always does me good. Listen to "funny way of laughing
," will ya?
Also her guitarist is in Godspeed You! Black Emperor and I bit my tongue so hard but really really wanted to ask about Polaris shit (I kind of like this article
on the subject, if you're curious).
Been thinking a lot about music, music culture, the Quebec City music scene, the Canadian music scene, and music journalism lately. Not doing/writing shit, but thinking. It's what I do best?
Last night I watched L'Apollonide: souvernirs de la maison close
at Simon's recommendation - he emailed me from Moncton to say if I had nothing planned for my Tuesday night, that I should watch it. It destroyed me, and I'm still trying to understand exactly why. I realized afterwards the actresses cast in the roles really did a number on me. The actress from La graine et le mulet, and another from Water Lilies. These fucking French actresses with the perfect mix of beauty and sadness, real sadness. It's the kind of film that's sticking to my ribs in a way I've found films haven't been as of late, and it feels good. Pestering.
Been thinking about my failings a lot lately, my failings as a friend and a lover. I think a lot about what I need and what I'm not getting. I tend to overuse "I miss you" but the worst part is every time I say it I mean it. I realize I have gotten awful at replying to emails, or at even writing half-decent ones, namely because that's what I spend a lot of my work days doing.
I hate to say it but I feel slightly stagnant in my job right now. I worked really hard this summer and felt like I did a handful of phenomenal stories but since I returned from France I feel... off. I am thirsting for change, for someone to push me. I have partly realized this is the longest I have ever been working at the same place - well, not if you count newspaper delivering and/or when I worked as a cashier in high school, but that was like 15 hours a week mostly. This is the longest I have worked in a full-time job. Three years has just flown by and sometimes I think I have learned so much, but often I just crave more. I am lucky I have so much variety in the stories I cover.
I guess I'll press POST TO GARCONNIERE without re-reading or trying to cobble some sort of order to this, because otherwise this will end up as just another lost draft.