Bathroom in blue - untitled # 1 

Last one for 2004.

I am back - but only for a short short blog.
Things have been up and down - been sick, lost my voice, found it again, and then lost it partially as of today. Looked under the bed, in the closet but it's nowhere to be found.

I am asking the universe for inspiration and strength for the new year.
I feel that I am on the cusp of something great. All I need is the energy and the focus to get through it all.

I am thankful for all the sunny days so far - they manage to get me through these winter months.

I took this photo last night at one of my gal pal's place. She is ripping up her bathroom of the downstairs apartment - it looks like hell - quite literally. We thought that something industrial would look cool. The idea behind this was ' a nice girl ends up in a bad place'. One night, you drink too much, black out for a little while, and then wake up to find yourself someplace where you know you should not be. I really think it works. The conditions were horrible (literally shit mixed with damp earth on the floor) - it was cold, damp and dark. I really had fun with her - we work really well together. She believe in my work and thinks this stuff is exhibition quality. I value her opinion highly - she is not one to give out compliments easily.
These are dark dark photos. Funny - the eye sees before the mind does.

On that note (oh - how depressing!!!) I wish all my readers a happy happy new year and may all your dreams come true in 2005!!!

This was taken at my friend's cookie party. I just happened to catch this shot. It really says Xmas to me... ;-) 

The night before the night before Xmas.

Lost my voice today. Not fun. Although it is kinda cool sounding like a big Italian mobster's wife (or at least what the stereotypical ones sound like - deep throaty sexy voice). I can talk but it hurts like hell and at times I sound like a 12 year old boy who's voice is in transition.
It was sooo miserable today.

I finished up some xmas presents, E got home and we did the last of the shopping rounds. It's strange having Xmas eve on a Friday. I can guarantee that there will be people taking full advantage of shopping till 9pm (if the stores stay open that long). Christmas in retail land. What fond (NOT!) memories...

The wind is whipping against the thin panes of glass of my window. I'm listening to Coldplay (let's go down a few notes on the scale of melancholia) and hoping to finish the last last little bit of xmas crafts and cooking. I can't believe a year has gone by so quickly. I really didn't notice the summer, and now, already the end of December? Wow. I can remember being a kid and asking how long it would be before I could cross a busy 4 lane street by myself. "Soon' seemed like forever in those days. Now, soon is too soon .

So Xmas rituals - tomorrow PM - E's parents house, eat, open presents, church, then back to pick up presents and left overs. Xmas day, mom and gmom's house - eat, eat and eat some more. 5 minutes of opening presents, sipping some eggnog for another hour and then home. In 24 hours it's all over.

Bleh.
I wish it were April already.
Buds start to poke out through the branches of the bare trees, the smell of dry earth and grass fill the air with a sweet crispness that just signals the beginning of spring. Its going to be along winter, unless I can find some $$ and get my white little butt to a hot tropical place between now and then...

Merry Xmas, Happy holidays and a fantastic new year everybody. ;-)

Deck the halls with germs and phlegm...

Man oh man. Those flu shots are shit!
I have been sick the past four days - four serious 'lying in my deathbed' days. The week before it was on and off, but since the weekend I have been growing roots into my mattress. I am up now because my coughing has kept me awake! I am trying to get myself drunk on 'cough/congestion due to colds' syrup so I can finally sleep!

I have been flipping out, trying to find last minute gifts for everybody. When all else fails, cookies and other sweets usually do the trick. Baked goods always get allot of 'oohs' and 'ahhhs' , especially when something is made from scratch. Standing near a hot oven sure beats dealing with irate salespeople, having to hear spoiled kids wailing and throw themselves on the floor in a grand mal temper tantrum, standing in line-ups longer than the breadlines in the former USSR. I thought I'd get creative this year, but that first attempt failed miserably. I have managed to save my sanity and 6 stretched canvases I bought with a good (but mind you, not very feasible) idea in mind. I won't say what it is in case one of you readers will be the recipient of one of these 'home made' gifts.

So just when I thought my life was back in the 'remedial' class, I get an email that almost had me tumble down the stairs (I live on the 3rd floor, so it's quite a tumble down)!! Somebody saw my profile on www.Mandy.com (a showbiz site - people who are looking for showbiz work) and emailed me asking if I wanted to be a writer on one of their comedy projects. I wrote back right away, telling them about the whole fiasco with the comedy network (that insane deadline thing) and that buried deep in my cerebellum was a degree in Creative Writing, which I pull out every once and a while to impress people at church bazaars and funerals.
I got an email back and on it the last line said:

Also the producer would like to speak to you.

The producer!! The producer of the production in question?? Wow!! Did I feel important!! Funny, just the other day I was asking a friend of mine if this 'comedy writing thing' was just a waste of my time, or did I really have a diamond in the rough? Long story made into a commercial, I spoke to the co-producer/director and got the info on the project. It sounds like something I can really sink my teeth (and those false chattering wind up teeth) into. The deadline is February (Pishaw!! February??! That is a vacation compared to the 5 hours I had to bang out a treatment!!) and are looking for someone who can write a play that will catch the attention of the viewing public. I am totally up to the challenge! I am also thinking that by networking with these two women, I might just be adding some creative elbow grease (and chick power) to my upcoming sketch-com project!!

I will keep you all posted as the events unfold...
So now, my carpal tunnel syndrome is setting in (the first time I heard that term, I could not figure out how somebody could suffer from 'Car-pool- tunnel syndrome?)*** and it's getting hard to type as I yelp between hitting the space bar and reaching over for the caps lock button...

So to all my readers - I wish you all a happy and wonderful Holiday season!!



** that is my skit idea so don't steal it!!

The gingerbread house after the hurricane...

The cookies I baked - Cranberry shortbread white chocolate chunk cookies (say that 5 times fast!!) . 

A bare gingerbread house - before the hurricane... 

Cookies and more cookies!

What a wonderful time I had this afternoon!
E and I were invited to a friend's house where we were greeted with a warm welcome and a glass of hot wine a la Swedish style. I have never been to a cookie party, but I must admit, it was completely decadent! My Galpal told me that this was a family tradition in her country (and they have a Christmas goat, no Santa!!! )
Here junior, you've been so good all year, here is a bag of wool! Hoo hoo hoo!!

Sorry, had to add that in..

But the atmosphere was filled with smiles and laughter, everybody sampling more than a dozen sorts of treats and cakes. There were even gingerbread housed (which, unfortunately began to collapse because of humidity) that had lots of character. E said they were gingerbread houses from Florida because they were falling apart.
Gotta love the comedic relief!!

So on a grey and cold winter afternoon, we passed the time with some friends, both new and old. It really put me in the spirit of Christmas...

Now, I have to work like a fiend to get all my shopping done!!!!!

This is the photo of the ad (MY PHOTO!!) through the window. Nevermind the huge flash spot near her foot. It's not part of the boot...

Went to a fun fun party last night - one of my old profs was having a little shin dig at her studio. I was not planning to attend initially. I really was planning to stay home in my tie dye yoga pants, my worn out Guns and Roses t-shirt that hangs so well off my bare shoulder, but after talking to my Bella chiqua gal pal (who was splishing around in the bathtub as we spoke) said :

''no questions asked. Just go!"

I heeded her advice because we were both in the same pms headspace. Staying at home when your hormones say 'feel sorry for me, I am a beached bloated pimply whale' is suicide. So I went, saying to myself:

this might actually be fun. Might...

I got there and was welcomed by old alumni - artists who smoked too much and loved their beer cold and domestic. It was a great cozy atmosphere as we all reminisced about the days before digital imaging became the photographic norm. I needed to reconnect with my old mentors and rejuvenate myself with art and their wisdom. As more people filtered in from the the cold, I felt so well lubed moving amidst the circles of old friends and new acquaintances with whom I shared a common passion. One of the teachers played DJ while grooving to Tina Turner, despite the continuous requests for something other than 'You better be good to me'. My wingspan grew as I spent the rest of the evening being a social butterfly and comedic relief.

Sometimes those 'nights' when you want to stay home and hide underneath the covers may not be the best medicine after all. I am a happy camper because I decided to be brave and hike out of my little cave .

Sunday I am going to a friend's cookie party. That should be fun. I made these delicious Cranberry white chocolate chunk shortbread cookies. A whole pound of butter and a block of white chocolate later, I have almost 80 little bundles of joy to share with my friends. How holiday is that?! I think that since I am so broke and creatively stumped this year, people are going to get the gift of sweets. Nothing says Xmas like red and green candy sprinkled shortbreads!!

Last night during the party E called me to relay some kick ass news!! He was driving on Mt. Royal and actually saw the famous shoe ad poster in the window of the store:
"Its HUGE and it looks great!!"

I almost dropped the phone from my hand.
"Now you have something to talk about at the party!!"

We drove by tonight but low and behold, the lights were all out and you could hardly see a thing, but being the geek I am, I pulled out my camera and took a photo anyway!! It is LIFE SIZE!! And looks great. I may have sold my soul on this one, but it's one hell of a poster for somebody who was as stressed and freaked out as a canary on cocaine!

Looking through the window, my face pressed against the glass, I said to myself:

Kudos!! Nice work... ;-)

And I was pleased...

This was the other creative part of the team. I just love this shot. She was exhausted from having worked almost 24 hours straight. Very Paris...
You have to click on the image casue this copy is quite crappy...

This is part of the amazing deco my friends did. The place looked like a cross between Moulin Rouge and a turkish harem. It was simply beautiful.

Inspiration on a cold winter day.

Just got back from shooting some stuff for a friend of mine who did the complete interior design for a big Xmas party downtown. The stuff looked spectacular! It was a cross between the Moulin Rouge and a Turkish Harem. It was really quite awe inspiring taking into consideration the amount of effort and time this fantastic duo put into these decorations!! I was inspired, but not inspired on a personal artistic level. Now does that even make sense??

I found reasons to bitch - my new $??? lens is not wide enough, my flash was not firing properly, there were too many drunk and arrogant people, I was not paid for this gig...

A sweet sweet guypal of mine came over tonight. He is simply amazing in every sense of the word. This guy has had truckloads of shit shoveled in his direction and he still manages to bounce back with a smile on his face. We did some photoshop work while we sipped on some Guinness. That made my night...

So I am looking for inspiration as I critically review my work. I am my own harshest critic and am relentless in ripping apart my own stuff. This process keeps me from advancing sometimes - I don't like what I do, try to perfect it, but then end up hating that result as well... Little mouse in my head loosing steam on that little wheel he keeps spinning on...

Almost 3:30am. Now it's Friday.
I have not done any shopping or preparation for Xmas. All the decorations are sitting in a bag in front of the tree. Maybe the cats will take some initiative, at least play with the bows...

I have a whole list of my fave photographers - 'photographers extaordinaire' is the sub folder in my 'favorites' bookmarks section. One that I continue to come back to is Mark Romanek : http://www.markromanek.com/ This man is simply amazing. I would love love to meet him to pick his brain about all things aesthetic in photo and cinema.

Somebody told me the other day that my films and photos are really great and it's going to be a matter of time before I 'break into the market', make a name for myself. Sometimes, the doors that I pound on are just doors to empty places. My fingers and knuckes are getting a little bruised from knocking so hard and so long, but I can't give up now. That would defeat the purpose of me wanting to be a photographer/filmmaker.

LOL.
So much for a quick little blog before I went to sleep.

The sounds of slush being pushed through threaded radial tires during this quiet winter night add a tranquil ambience to my room. The 'woosh' reminds me of the ocean - the waves rolling up to the shore.

It's all water. It's all good in one form or another...

X Marks the spot, but a pimple says HELLO PMS!

hor·mone (hôrmn) n.
A substance, usually a peptide or steroid, produced by one tissue and conveyed by the bloodstream to another to effect physiological activity, such as growth or metabolism.

Well, they're back!!
The lovely army of hormones that tromp thorough my system, turning me into a wishy washy stew of emotions, distension of many of my extremities, and the all telling beacon of a lighthouse size zit on at least one part of my face.

When I hit my 20's I said to myself:
This is great! No more acne!

Then I hit my 30's and said:
Hey great! No more acne!!

I am still in my 30's, now pushing 40's and wonder what the joke is all about.

My uncle once told me:
If you have oily skin, you are less likely to get wrinkles...

I don't know what school of cosmetology he works for, but that's just pure bullshit!! I have the laugh lines to prove it!!
(as I laugh without trying to move my mouth...)

So apparently, when women 'hang out together', their cycles coincide. Apparently tiny little sensors in our noses pick up on theses hormonal changes of our fellow gal pals, putting us in sync with eachother's schedules. Why??
Good question!
Doing the Darwinian thing - I suspect that humans might have adopted this 'method of communal ovulation' so that if a man were to come across a particular tribe of ovulating women, chances of him striking out and not getting his little guys up and past the hills of Cervix were fewer if all the women in the tribe were fertile at the same time, rather than him having to make repeat visits at different times of the month for each woman.

Make sense?
I dunno. You tell me?
I am just pulling tampons out of a hat here...


I hit a bad day yesterday.
Went to see the headshrinker. She said:
I just do medication management...

So you are a pill pusher with an alphabet at the end of your name, but if I feel like my life is falling apart, you can't help me. Right?

She told me that I could always see my 'counsellor'.
This counsellor was as sweet as peach pie, but the woman would always fall asleep on me!
She would be listening, then her eyes would glaze over, roll back in her head a bit, and then the head would bob.
I was kind of shocked at first, thought maybe because she had a rough night, she was trying to catch some extra zzz's between paitents.
I didn't think it could be my stories - they are just too bizarre and outrageous.
So what the hell?

I tried going back several times a few years ago. There is nothing more frustrating than pouring your heart and intestines out and actually watch someone dip into a REM state while you are blubbering away.

So, no Doc. I aint going back to 'Sleepy' from that gaggle of head shrinking dwarfs.

She made a good point though - even though I could have told her that myself:
"You really come alive when you are doing work that you love. Try to keep yourself busy."
DUH!

I made a joke but obviously head shrinkers can't really take a joke when it is thrown to them, even if it's handed on a platter - they still fumble...
Well - it's settled! I have to move to L.A! I'll have the sun and the film work! I will be happier than a pig in -."

'Are you sure that would be a wise thing? You know, something like that should be reflected upon before making such a big move..."

I just looked at her, smirked and said:
'Joking'.
She tried to put some life into her fake laugh. I figured if I had to spend my day running around playing pharmaceutical Russian roulette with patients who were catatonic, I wouldn't be laughing much either.

So hormones, hormones, hormones.
I feel like there is some sort of 'Live Aid' concert going on in my system:
The gates have been knocked down, all the molecules in my body are alert for the big SHOW!
The various opening acts are just filler and fluff. A little opening act here - (backache), followed by another obscure act (migraine). As things warm up (cramps), the crowd starts to get restless (zits and craving for starch and carbs) and then the main attraction! BOOM! The crowd goes wild! My body goes into overdrive and all hell breaks loose.

Once again (it seemed like only yesterday I wrote about this) I am in the see-saw, roller coaster, yo-yo (why are all these up and down motion words hyphenated??) funhouse of flesh and bones (not hyphenated). Wee! Just 12 more days until the circus moves out of town!

The Party

This is going to be a short blog.
I am so hung over and so tired.
Back to my state of hibernation under my duvet...

Last night we had a little shin dig at our place.
Not many people were able to show up - weather, other 'festivas for the rest of us'* celebrations, but there was a good crowd. Munchies, smokes, and drinks enough for an army.

We had Rocky and Bullwinkle in the background for entertainment and visual stimulation.
I wonder if Rocket Robin Hood is available on DVD yet?

Stand all brothers, marching together,
heads held high in all kinds of weather,
with firery blasts our roaring rockets rise
beyond the earth,
beyond the skies....

Funny how house parties always have little pockets of activity - it seems that people always gather in the kitchen. Why is that? I mean, besides the availability and close proximity of the food and beer, what is it with kitchens??

There were two non-smokers in the whole place. They stayed in the neutral territory which was somewhere between the front (smoking room) and the kitchen.
E and I took turns keeping them company...
In between our smoke break room visits.

It was a lot of fun.

There is just something great about opening your house to people and entertaining.

I wish I had a big house just for that reason.

Of course, I would hire out the cleaning for the morning after, and develop a pill to magically cure hangovers as well...

Next week I am attending a 'cookie party' Sunday afternoon.
My baking sheets, Crisco shortening and vanilla extract are out and ready as I type this!


* Ahh - the magical Sienfeld references...

And the universe said...

And the universe said - you aint going nowhere tonight honey!!

I had it all planned. Dinner and drinks with a friend. I was getting ready when I got a msg telling me that they had to cancel on me last minute because they had to take some business clients out for dinner'. Okay, I didn't feel like eating out anyway. No biggie. Then I get a call from one of my director friends - "Hey lets meet for a beer and chew the fat!". Great idea! I wanted to know how he recovered from the screening night when the sound on his film botched up. So I get ready, running around the house, get to the metro, get as far as one stop down the line and then my night ended. They had to shut the whole system down for an indetermined period of time', which in metro talk means (hours). I waited almost an hour, leaving messages on his phone every 15 minutes, until about 10:20pm when I realized: "This night aint gonna happen!!". Disappointed and tired, I dragged my body 5 long long blocks home. For whatever reason, I had to stay home. I have yet to figure it out, but I got to see a funny episode of the Flintstones at 2am - the one where Fred's rich uncle is coming to visit and Barney gets disguised as 'Little Tex" - the oversized offspring of Fred and Wilma...

Its a horrible grey day. The umpteenth in a row.
This lack of sunlight is definitely wearing me down...
Note to self - don't miss the Flintstones tonight.
I am still eagerly waiting to see the episode where the two families encounter the 'Mad doctors' who switch everybody's personality while they sit under these primitive looking hair dryers:
"Len, Len, what have you done Len?"
"Well, my mother always told me - Be a mad doctor, be a mad doctor!!".

This is the director on the rooftop of where we were shooting one night. I love this photo - it's one of my faves.  

Cuba bound?

I actually had the opportunity and was asked if I wanted to leave to go to Havana tomorrow at 6pm. Had it not been such short notice, I would have packed my bags, grabbed my bikini, some suntan lotion and a sarong with some flip flops and hopped on a plane with no questions asked...

BUT...
Got the offer from one of the directors I worked with on a film this summer. Apparently, there is this Cuba/Canada exchange where as a gratuity (is that the right word) for taking a luggage load of medications, clothing, soaps and stuff over to Cuba, your flight is only $50 one way. The director knew another director who's brother had a place to stay right in Havana. Holy shit! That really was too good to be true.
Turned out that he had a last minute deadline for something that had to be done tomorrow without fail.
"Well, there goes the trip to Cuba..."
Well, there is always a next time...
I knew all those Spanish lessons would come in handy!!

So meeting with the director man was cool - he is uber talented and is just a really down to earth nice guy. I loved working on his film and met some great people (and a kick ass DOP with whom I hope to work with in the future). Even though we were not paid (hoping to be paid soon - all that $$ I spent on photos...) it was a life changing experience. It made me realize that being in film, and doing photography is where I am at my best. I am completely in my element and it shows. It is something that I need to do to stay creative and stay alive.

Tomorrow I am meeting with the club kids. I am not expecting much but know that I have to put on my business suit and nasty pants in order to get this contract. It is so not in my genetic make-up to be a business type', but I have to take on this new role in order to gain some respect and get some moula in my wallet. Besides, the other guy who they hired for the club is creepy and missing all his top front teeth. Who is going to want to smile and pose for a freak like that? No wonder all the pix on their website are so bad!!LOL

Off to bed. Had to do some printing of the pix to show them tomorrow. I am hoping that I will not get the run-around again. I am going to pull one of those 'sit-ins' and hang around until they show up. Would be kinda funny cause the club opens on Thursdays:

There I am, in my big down filled coat with a fur hood. My photo portfolio in tow, camera around my neck, waiting at the front steps for them to show up or haul me away (which I would have documented with my camera)...

Getting silly. Must rest. This weather is killing me. I feel like I am going into hibernation. Craving starchy foods like mad. Eating bread by the loaf and pasta by the pound! Oh Mr. Atkins? Where are you??

And then the rain came...

And then the rain came...

Where have I been the past few days??
a) under a rock
b) under my covers
c) someplace that I don't want to be

All of the above actually. The rock was more of a grey cloud, but has since lifted...

Wow. All that activity, excitement, panic, fuss and brouhaha has worn me out. And today, my body showed its appreciation.
For anybody who has suffered from migraines, the mere mention of the word can bring tears to one's eyes. For those of you who have been spared the misery, please allow me to explain - a migraine starts off feeling like a vice grip that has been attached to one side of your head, tightened so much that you can hear the metal scraping against metal. Your eyes are about to explode asthey hang by their last veins, and the back of your neck becomes so stiff, you can build a railway track on it. Any ray of light induces involuntary screams as you run for cover. Even the sound of dust settling sounds like 1000 hungry shreiking kids at a day care center. To sum up in one word? Hell.

I had one of those today.
When the all the insanity subsides, and the survival instinct dies down, the body wants to thank you for being such a slave-driver and running on nothing but fumes.
Hence - the MIGRAINE (it really merits caps).

Friday, went to see the screening of a film (at a film festival here) which I did cinematography work on.
It looked really swell, the images, the editing, graphics were top notch.
But the sound.
Oh boy, the sound, or lack of it.
The director and I knew at the getgo we were going to encounter some problems (without going into all the techy aspects), but this stuck out like a sore (mute) thumb in the final mix. There was one place in particular where the sound dropped out completly. From out of the corne of my eye, I watched the director bring his hands up to his face, his head into his hands, and then down into his lap. Speaking as a film person, I too have been there and know how incredibly humiliating a fuck up in your film can be during a premiere. All your work, all your blood, sweat and MONEY, in one moment can just amount to a holy mess. Not many people noticed this glitch, but for the director and I , those two minutes went by like weeks. I truly felt his pain... Poor guy. But the overall reception was good, people came up to both of us, congratulating us on our good work. Well, the way I see it, it's 'another film in the can, the next one - waiting to be loaded' (Show biz thing).


Saturday went to an office party with the man. It was being held in the company's warehouse (don't cringe yet, it actually looked really nice) decorated with all things Xmas. One of the more memorable moments was when the DJ led the crowd into a game of 'name that tune'. Each table had a captain and we had to keep track of specific songs that were given up in 10-20 second sound clips. There were songs from the 40's (like our table of 30somethings would know that much about music from the 30's!!), 40's, 50's right up until the late 90's. Our table was as mixed as a Christmas fruit cake - two couples, one in their mid 20's, the other - early 30's a few singles. The really quiet couple from China seemed politely pleasant at first, but as soon as the wine started pouring, they started rocking!! They were an absolute scream! The husband had me cracking up all night:

He puts up two fingers.
"How many finger you see?"
"Ah, two...'
"Ah! you see only two finger? You not drink enough!!"
He was laughing and laughing. His petite wife politely put her hand over her mouth and laughed and laughed as well. I was stunned at first - the irony of the joke, and the person that said it, but then I was surprised by how hysterical they found it. I burst out into a holler.
He reached over to the bottle of wine in the middle of the table:
"Here, drink more!! You too far behind!"
The inside sight joke was two fingers in the air, which we did to eachother all night. It was a great little moment.

I bought a kick ass lens for my camera on Sunday (and why I am telling you this I have no clue, Oh wait! It's because this is my blog and I CAN!!) - put down 400 cool ones. I had to replace my ould one because I dropped it. Yea, I know, butterfingers. Note to self : bungee cord everything of value and importance in my life to my body.

So this up coming Friday, there is another deadline for another film thing. I'm not stressing about it too much. I figure, if I can pull of what I did last week in less than 5 hours, this one will be a slice of pie. But then again, I have to get cracking. God knows I don't want another migraine on Sunday from sticking my brain into a pressure cooker.

Weird dream:
(I thought I would include these dreams becasue some are just too hysterical not to be recounted, even if they don't make any sense) .

I found myself stranded on some island, out past Australia (must be from watching all those ads for 'winter getaways'). The plane landed on a dock, Fantasy Island style, and the passangers had to get out and waddle through to the water(which was a beautiful turquoise), but still, waist deep tugging a sinking suitcase was not the ideal thing to be doing in the ocean, or on a beach.

I walked into this huge, (yet cottage like) looking hotel. It was absolutley enormous and very modern - a stark contrast to the quaint New England type home that it was on the outside.
There were glass elevators, slate/granite walls and floors that oozed of minimalist modernism. I walked up to the concierge counter and told the woman that someone had made a mistake - I was not supposed to be there, and I needed a ticket home as soon as possible. Because it was a dream, and I have yet to master the art of 'lucid dreaming', she told me that I was out of luck, and if I wanted to stay, it would cost me $700 us a night to stay. Holy crap! Even in dream currency that is steep!

The next set of sequences had me running to all these airline counters in the hopes of finding a cheap flight out; one clerk informing me that it was a 48 hour plane ride back home (where the hell were we??). After begging and pleading with the Air Canada ticket, she finally gave me a last minute deal (even in my dream, she was a real disgruntled bitch!!) and could squeeze me into a shorter flight.

The plane was not really a plane. It had a sun deck at the nose of the plane, equipped with chairs (which were all bolted down), a whirlpool that was actually a part of the ocean, and stewardesses who read the first class passengers a good night story before they fell asleep.

I got off somewhere in L.A near a beach. To my surprise, I had company with me - a bunch of really Italina girls who were trying to find a 'friend's' house. As we walked back and fourth (quite literally), we caught sight and ran into Robert DeNiro with a few of his buddies. These two groups kinda knew eachother but Mr. DeNiro singled me out, paid special attention to me, flirted with me heavily, and then gave me everything short of his measurements so I could get in touch with him later on.
"Here is a card from my bank manager. Call him tomorrow..."
He had this endless stack of cards which he pulled from his pocket. The wallet was simmilar to the one GEORGE had in Sienfeld - so stuffed that it made George sit on a slant becasue it was so packed in with papers...
I took each card, smiling pleasantly, putting them into my now over-stuffed silver evening bag.
"Did you get this one? With my email? Hold on..."
He took out a pen, brought his knee up to his chest, and scrawled something on the back of a beige card: bobbydin@yahoo.com. The loops in his o's were so squished together, it looked like one huge ink smudge.
"Call me tomorrow, no, wait, I don't have a phone, email me okay sweetie!? I will be waiting for you!"

As I walked away, perplexed and amused, the more outspoken woman of the group looked at me like she was going to punch me in the face - with her whole arm and forearm. One of the sisters whispered to me:
"She LOVES Bobby! She has been trying for months to get in touch with him!! You are one lucky woman, but also unlucky as well."
I had a funny feeling this dream was not going to end nicely.

After getting into the apartment, a series of screwball antics played out like a Benny Hill show on fast forward. Sensing her wrath, I knew I had to hide from this DeNiro fan. I grabbed a nearby purple wig, and asked the cat to help me find a place to hide. She meowed towards the direction of the bed. It was a kid's bed and my legs dangled over the edge. Underneath the covers, I could hear voices coming in my direction. As luck would have it, she ended up sitting on my legs, but I couldn't scream. Bitching about me and how she was going to use my face to scrub all her dirty pots and pans, the infamous Bobby D. shows up. Looking around the room as he sauntered in, he said: "Ladies, she is my girl, so lay off!"
He too pulled out a purple wig from thin air, yanked back the covers, took my hand and lead all of us to a nearby Burger King.

I wonder if his ears were burning, or having visions of business cards falling from the sky today...

"Looks Like We Made It' !!!

So I did it!
I beat the time limit and managed to submit that stupid treatment in before it was too late! I am a nervous wreck right now, and decompressing is a must or my brain will explode, but I am so happy!! I DID IT!! WHOOO HOOOO!

I had the option of either missing the appointment with the club people for the photo contract or missing a chance to get my stuff (at least) into the doors of the Comedy Network. I weighed the options: Club people? Often unreliable (like yesterday when I showed up for nothing as they has just convened an 'emergency meeting and were unable to see me) or have the opportunity for some people who actually work in the comedy/TV industry which I would DIE to get into, look over some of (at least what I think is funny) my sketch pieces. It was a double gamble. I threw the dice and decided to glue my eyes to the monitor and entwine my fingers around my keyboard until I brought to term that baby of a comedic embryo. I had a few friends call me during my pinnacle moment of momentum who were curtyly greeted with: "Hey! I can't talk I am writing this comedy thing and I am on a deadline cant stop now to think am in the middle of a FLOW I'll call you later I gotta go BYE!'' which was all said before they even had a chance to say 'Hello'! I guess it was some sort of comedic 'survival instinct' that drove me to finish, and finish with zeal. I wonder if the cavemen used humour to get themselves out of 'sticky' situations? One cave man finds you sleeping with his woman. He is about to club you to death. What do you do? Act like an idiot! Wave your arms around in the air, and wail like a rabid complete idiot monkey must have gone over really well at the tar pits! I guess it would stand to reason why some people have a more acute sense of timing and sense of humour than others. As Rodney Daingerfield said: "I get no respect!", but comedians might very well be one of the secret links/reasons as to why we, as a species, have survived as long as we have! Without the ability to laugh at ourselves, and the human folly, I think people would have killed themselves off a long time go!

So back to my 'episode'...
I was sitting at the computer, my eyes bugging out, as dry as sandpaper cause I had not blinked in more than an hour, my fingers cramping into a twisted mess from typing in a damp room for so long, when I caught a glimpse of the BIG PUNCH LINE in the distance. It was 6:15pm and the FedEx offices were closing at 7pm. I had a little over 40 minutes to print all the stuff, hop in the car, zip downtown, fill out the waybill (that alone takes 10 minutes and a tech. Vocational degree) and bid my proposal a safe trip down the 401. As you would expect, the printer slowed down, the paper jammed, I had to do a spell check, my headers and footers began to appear on the top, bottom and sides of every document, and outside, the steady flow of Thursday night traffic was congealing like a layer of cold fat in a pot of fresh chicken broth.

6:35pm: I could feel those 'nervous hives' furiously percolating beneath the surface of my skin.
My man began to state the obvious:
"you know you wont have enough time to -'.

I held up one hand in the air as the other blindly fiddled and filed sheets of paper. He knew then not to say any more. I hate to think what I would have done had he continued to orate as my other hand unconsciously groaped for the stapler...

6:38pm: I was crossing the 4 lane busy street without any regard to the oncoming speeding traffic: you can kill me but you cant kill my IDEA, MY DREAM!! We were rolling at 6:40pm.


The next 20 minutes were a complete blur. Time seemed to speed up, and then slow down at every stop sign, every imbecile that got their licence out of a pre-foamed soap dispenser box, every old person and woman with a baby who thought they could begin to cross the street as the light turned yellow. My day flashed before my eyes. My whole career flashed before my eyes. I felt dizzy and my muscles were as brittle as Billy Idol's hair. Can we make it? Can we do this? IF there is a GOD, and this is meant to be, I will get there in time...

So between me and the man, we managed to get our directions wrong. He said FedEx and I said I knew where it was. Without even stopping the car, I rolled out of the passenger seat T.J. Hooker style, stumbled onto the sidewalk and ran towards the outlet. I think I must have lost consciousness for a nano-second as I realized that I was running towards a sign that said Purolator , not the FedEx, but miraculously, my legs kept on moving and did not come to a screeching halt, not listening my mind that whispered in a feeble and tiny voice saying: ' Oh fuck. Its not FedEx...'.

I almost whipped the door off of its hinges (an adrenaline rush can give you incredible strength - remember baby Superman in the movie when he lifts the car above his tiny little head?) and stumbled to the counter. In between gasps I asked:
"What time is your last pick-up?"

I was waiting for that dammed "Acme" cartoon anvil to come falling from the sky - the Purolator clerk being the Road Runner, and me - the coyote.
"To Toronto? Oh, its at 9pm.' In a Julie Andrews sing- song voice she smiled: "You still have lots of time - its only a minute shy of 7."

My body didn't know whether to collapse in exhaustion, dance around like a crazy fool, freeze completely from the state of shock or burst out crying. I think I might have done all of them simultaneously, and because of the sheer magnitude and intensity of all those feelings, they managed to cancel each other out. I blurted out in a monotone voice:
'Oh my God. You are the best. I am going to name my first child Purolator."
She kind of snickered and looked at me in a weird way, not knowing whether to take me seriously or call 911.

We did the paperwork, and while filling out the waybill, I opened the floodgates and blathered on about the contents of the envelope, my childhood dream to become a comedian, "Take my parents, please!" and how fate and the universe had steered me to this office. I am convinced people like me are the reason why companies like Purolator have such amazing employee benefits and generous sick days...

I carefully put my envelope into another envelope (a fancy paper condom), sealed it, and made the sign of the cross over the waybill.
"Godspeed', I mumbled under my breath. I handed her the red, blue and white envelope and thanked her for making my night, weekend, beginning of the month and end of the year. A little niceness goes a long way. As I type this, I am hoping that what comes around goes around, and that some creative mind in Toronto will look at my script and say: "My God. This is brilliant. This is IT."

But if not, I am happy to know that there was a small miracle waiting for me around the corner, and that perhaps, I made somebody's day a little brighter by being thankful that they were there when I needed them.

Tick Tock!

I am in a state of perpetual panic - there are so many deadlines coming up, the most important being Friday for that Comedy Network thing. I have been kinda putting it off for some time now. I manage to open the file, shift a few words around, look at it and then pop Photoshop open to fix some photos to pass the time - all in the name of 'creative inspiration'. But that really gets me nowhere fast, and the hours are slipping by. You would think after more than 30 years of schooling, I would know by now that procrastination does NOT WORK!! Although I do my best work when I am under pressure, but that would explain the three ulcers I had in my stomach a few years ago - one for each degree!! LOL

I have to go locations scouting for a friend of mine tomorrow, then a meeting with some people that I might be doing some photo work with, other errands and lots of bla bla bla. I cant seem to squeeze it into the day! Daylight savings time sucks the bag.

Well, today was a complete waste - ran downtown to see a friend of mine who was supposed to put me in touch with these club people who want to use my services, but he lost the photos of the club I made for him, and to top it all off, the owners of the club were having an 'emergency meeting':
"I hope you did not come all the way down here in this shitty weather just for this?"
Of course I had to lie - I didn't want this guy to feel more horrible than he already did!
So I schlepped home, all dressed and made up with my truckload of photos under one arm, and a broken HelloKitty umbrella in the other. Well, I got good use out of my "new' buss pass today, and got to experience the efficiency of the transit system. YAWN!!

A film I worked on (was the cinematographer) will be playing on Friday. I am soo pumped! I met the director through a want ad on www.mandy.com . He was looking for someone to be his DOP (techie lingo - means director of photography) so I volunteered. It was for no pay and was to be part of some crazy film fest where all the teams have 48 hours to write, film, edit and finish their oeuvre in the time allotted. Well, it was an experience and the last film we worked on was not as 'time restricted, but we had enough obstacles to overcome. Working on these films proved to me, yet again, that I work best under pressure , provided I am given enough space to:
a) flip out
b) scream/cry hysterically
c) chill by myself in complete silence
d) be outrageously creative and try the otherwise impossible.

Not that these things all happen during every shoot, or they happen to that extent, but I am quite the sight to behold when those wheels are spinning and the clock is going tick tock!

I'll take a crateload please...

Well, not only is the Christmas season here, so is my &#$ken period. Sometimes I am lucky and have a 'visitor' who does not leave a mess in my house - who is very quiet, non- obtrusive, peeks in once and a while to let me know they are there, and then leaves as quickly as they came. Other times, (like this week) I get the fat obnoxious relative that lets everybody know they are there - trumpeting the fact that they are going to stay as long as they want and make life as miserable for me as they possibly can! These are the times that I really don't get excited about being a woman...

So this big obnoxious relative storms into my house, bringing lots and lots of heavy luggage, throwing it around my room like a typhoon hitting a Barbie doll house, doing the 'pop in' at times I least expect them, catching me completely off guard. Once I think I have all my ammunition ready for a certain unwanted encounter, all rules are out the window as the obnoxious relative decides to pull a Kamikaze strike on me while I am sleeping. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This also takes a toll on my body as well - a huge physical toll. My body aches all over, I feel like I have been sat on by my houseguest. I am constantly exhausted and want to hide in the dryer where it is warm and nobody would ever think of looking there. On the 'raw materials' side, I have to call the pharmacy's warehouse and ask them to put aside a shipping container of feminine products just so I can get through the week. I am reminded of a funny episode of Sienfeld when Elaine wants to buy the TODAY sponge, and goes to the last pharmacy and buys out everything that the pharmacist stocks! But unlike Elaine, I don't have the luxury of deciding whether my houseguest is tampon or pad-worthy, I just gotta take care of business...

This woman is the inspiration for one of my skits called Athens Chat: "With your host - Kaliopie - welcome to Athens Chat where we talk about everything and anything Hellenic." all this, of course, to be said with a thick Greek accent!!!

Comedy pow wow.

Yesterday, I assembled a handfull of my creative friends at my place to listen to a collection of my comedy skit ideas.

I have been wanting to do this for some time, and seeing how bad the state of Canadian comedy is now, I knew that it was my civic duty to do something about it!

There were 8 of us in total, lots of beer, pot, popcorn, nachos and salsa. It was a good mix. I decided to prime the crowd by watching America's Funniest videos first. E and I had taped them last year and edited out the commercials so we could watch them without interruption at a later date (and when we were stoned). My Pal D was the first to arrive. Before he had a chance to sit down, I popped in my 'famous student film'. It was funny though (I say that in a completely paradoxical way) because my movie (I made it when I was in university and it's about my nervous breakdown at 19...) is quite, well, shall we say, intense? Its a good movie, don't get me wrong, but I had been talking about it for the longest time and really wanted him to see it before the crowd showed up. Well, some 28 minutes later, the experience had ended. He and E just sat on the couch, not saying a word.

"So wasn't that a fun family film!!??"
I was being totally ironic and laughing at myself because it's what I do best, and do to survive. I had lost so much time crying and feeling dead back in those 'seritonin depletion' years...

They were both speechless. I take a great (yet perverse) pleasure in knowing that my film has completely knocked the wind out of those who watch it, and that is what it is supposed to do. It isn't a Disney production of '101 Dalmatians' !

E suggested a smoke, so we all went on the balcony and had some really bad and cheap cigarettes that that bought from the Indian reserve.

Wanting to up the tempo a bit, I found the 'funniest video' tape and popped it in the vcr (YES , I still use a vcr !!). Let me tell you, from the first person being kicked in the nuts to half an hour later of fat people falling off chairs at weddings, the three of us were folded in half, laughing so hard that we were in tears! Laughing is contagious. The harder the people around you laugh, the harder you will too! We went through the '30 hits in 30 seconds' segments where all you see are 3 second clips of people being hit in the head with balls, and their reaction to it. It went by so fast, we had to rewind it about 3 times. By the 4th time, we decided to put the whole thing on 'step' and watch it frame by frame - that was dangerous. I cant remember the last time I had a better abs workout.

The way the body tries to re-balance itself after a blow, is a sight to behold. First there is the impact, then the head absorbs the shock, sometimes snapping and making the same trajectory as the object in motion, and finally, the body starts a graceful contortion which can only be truly appreciated if watched in slow motion: the head goes back, the front of the torso extends forward (as if you were putting out your chest), hence making the back curve like a backwards letter 'C'. The arms begin to extend to the sides, then are raised up above the head and spread gracefully back to the sides again as the body hits the ground. Imagine a evangelistic preacher making the motion of : "PRAISE THE LORD!!". I am sure that every movie and TV show has used that same 'movement' - imagine a person holding a huge balloon over their head. Got that image? Good. Now imagine overweight trailer trash niave people walking right into the oncoming path of a round object coming at them at 40 mph.

It was amazing to see how many people's body reacted the same way, and in slow motion - it was a ballet of the clumsy and absurd. Needless to say, that was the icing on the cake: all ice was broken, low spirits lifted, and the perfect mood set for the night. Within the hour, the rest of the clan began to arrive. We preped them with similar material. Folks - if you want to liven up a party, pop one of those tapes in - it is a guaranteed winner!

Having made sure that all the guest's funny bones were well lubed, I began my shtick something like this:

I have invited you all here because I need some feedback and hopefully some ideas on these skits that I have been accumulating over the years. Some of them are shorts, some of them are 30 second situational absurdities, some of them are in the form of commercials, so please relax, put your thinking caps on and lets get funny!

I did not get a 'rolling in the isles' response that I hoped for some of them, but I told myself that it might be hard to imagine exactly what I am trying to create when so much relies on the visual cues. Some sketches were a big hit though...

The soft horn - for people who use their car horn aggressively, the soft horn is a quiet alternative to reducing noise pollution.
Clip of people before (loud honks, annoying pitches, extended long beeps) and after (the same people but their horns sound like babies giggling, somebody saying 'Excuse Me' softly, or clearing their throat...).

All in all, it was a good night. Looking back at the energy in the room, and the dynamic between all of us, I realized that surrounding myself with individuals that have a comedic way of looking at things and life is really quite a therapy for me. I wish those pharmaceutical companies would work on putting that in a pill...

Thought - The funny pill for adults:
It looks like a prescription capsule, but when you open it, it has a micro mini Kinder toy inside, along with an actual pill to take...

The deadline for this comedy thing is Friday at 5pm - it has to make its way safely down to Toronto before their offices close. If I didn't have some many things to do, and if I was not so broke, I would hand deliver it.

This is how bad I want to win and make this TV show a reality...
Wish me luck.

I will keep you posted.

One baby step at a time.

I am getting good feedback from this blog.
It is a really good exercise for me - it keeps me disciplined, focused and ads a sense of order to my seemingly disorganized life. I also like the fact that somewhere, on some remote server, this information is being stored, and somewhere, on someone's hard drive lies a link to this site. It brings the web of the world wide internet seem a little more tightly woven and a little less anonymous.

There is a French saying : 'Jamais deux sans trois'.
Oddly enough, there is a similar English saying - "bad things happen in threes'.
Leave it to those stuffy old Anglo Saxons to put a negative spin on things!

Well - yesterday was my day of threes:
My old pal/sis had read my blog and loved it!! (Thanks L!!!) She said:

I carried myself up the stairs, anxious to hit the pillow, I must tell you....I WAS SUDDENLY OVERCOME WITH A BREATHTAKING FEELING...."YOU'RE GONNA BE FAMOUS SIS!"

Wow! That was a sight for sore and bloodshot eyes!
Not that I truly believe in these things, and not that I want to jinx myself (knocking on wood as I type this...) but I was told on more than one occasion by seers and other esoteric folk that I would become successful later on in life - after my 30's. That is nice to know as I push 31... I wish!

Later on in the day I got a message from my sexy Nordic friend A. She had received some pix that I took of myself recently and was incredibly impressed.
"Girl - your stuff is fucken amazing! You gotta get it out there!... You're gonna make it!"

There is nothing that makes a bipolar artiste happier than to hear words like that strung into a sentence. And when it is truly sincere, my serotonin levels rise to a nice level.

Even later on in the same day - bringing our story to the evening, I was on the net chatting with another friend and making plans to meet up for lunch:

"I am really broke, so the only thing I can afford for lunch is a coffee and one munchkin at Tim Horton's"
"Ah you artists!!"

I had made a conscious decision when I decided to make the fine arts my field of exploration and study that I knew there would have to be many sacrifices made - one of them being money. There are so few artistes who are successful enough to make a comfortable living doing what they love to do. Many of us struggle from week to week, trying to keep the dream of being able to change the world through our 'oeuvres' alive; but so many of us become discouraged and exhausted pursuing what seems to be the impossible dream and give up, shelve our creative souls and fall into the anonymity of a 9 to 5 world.

'I know, its a cruel world...'
"but you are going to make it before all of us."
"What do you mean?"
"Your stuff is great --. It's just a matter of time before something happens and you make it big."

Wow.
It is also great for an artist's self esteem to hear that other people value their work. I think it is just a genetic default in evolution that artists will be the first ones to beat themselves up, devalue their creative efforts and self-sabotage any chance at success. Maybe it is not a genetic defect after all. Imagine a world full of artists? Starbucks would have been the new McDonalds, coffee and cigarettes would have been considered as parts of the seven essential food groups, crayons would become our currency, and the average work day would be '9 to whenever you feel like doing something else time'. The world had to be balanced by having some scientific and practical people as well. So this so called 'defect' might be an element in the process of natural selection - survival of the fittest. How many artists do you know that do not struggle to survive???!!!

AS the French would say:
"c'est la vie!".



On the subject of suffering and survival, this beautiful quote, and its relevance to my life, what has happened to me in the past makes it even more inspirational.

In a time of darkness the eye begins to see.
Theodore Roethke

This is the boot shoot!! 

At a mall near you!

AHHH!!
I just got a call from my galpal B and she said that the photo I took of the 'boot shoot from hell' is up!!! She was in Ille Perrot and came face to face with a lifesize poster of it! It was 9am (which was uncharacteristically early for both of us) but she wanted me to know!!
So all of you who are in Canada - look out for it! It won't be up much longer, so catch it before it disappears! I have to make my mall rounds as well and take digital pics for my files! I am sooo pumped!

This was taken at the Green Spot diner on Notre Dame near the Atwater market. My friend B and I thought these old music booth thingamajigs were cool. I didnt realize until now that you can almost see her face in the top right corner. Gee, I wonder what I can get for this if I try to sell it on Ebay. It may not be the Hail Mary in a grilled cheeze sandwitch, but it sure is cool (and paradoxical cause she is a musician...) Ohhhh... Yet another cosmic zinger... 

20 Years later...

So here I am, sick as a sick dog but still gleaming from Saturday night. I can't even begin to go on about how amazing it was, what a rush I felt that even thought 20 years had passed between seeing all my old friends, it seemed like it was just yesterday we spoke. Within a few minutes and formalities out of the way, we were able to get right back on track as if no time had passed at all... It was one of those monumental events that change a person, and I have been changed in such a wonderful magical way...

Funny thing - it seems that my group of gal pals were the 'popular group' in the last years of high school! This comes as news to me because I was always the wall flower until I met these girls - one in particular who 'adopted me' into her Von Trapp like musical/multi talented Italian extended family. I became her 'sis' and through her help, I came out of my shell and turned into a real butterfly just in time for my grad and 16th birthday. It was a rite of passage that, thanks to her, made me a large part of who I am today. But I digress... That is the subject of a whole other blog!!!

So when I walked into the hall, I heard my name being called in quadraphonic sound followed by a a loud: "Sis!!!". I knew it was her. While I was signing in, getting my nametag and photo taken, she yanked me to the side. We hugged, jumped up and down and screamed in unison: "YOU LOOK SO AMAZING! YOU HAVE NOT CHANGED!! OH MY GOD!!!". It was the quintessential moment which set the precedent for the rest of the night which was filled with sweet reminiscing of the good old days, memories of stupid incidental things we did to waste time during lunch hour, catching up on how many kids, divorces, houses, jobs had passed through our lives over the years. My 30 seconds or less shpeil was: I am not married, but have been living with him for 6 years, we rent a house - don't own, no kids - but two cats, and am a filmmaker and photographer. I got allot of laughs from that.

There were quite a few times that I had to look at the nametag of the person to make sure that it was who I remembered them to be - I equate the experience to finding a watch that you believed lost, only to find it behind the couch a year later. There were quite a few people with glazed eyes and huge smiles on their faces. And part of every reunion, there were a few 'ugly duckling to swan' stories; the most dramatic being one guy that I had known from grade school, whom many of us pegged as - having the best "bowl on the head/I am a geek' haircut 10 years in a row. While we were in the midst of taking a group photo (all 130 of us), I see this tall, built, and quite handsome guy walking in.
Who the hell is that and is he really part of my class??
He began to wave and smile at me. I waved back and smiled, turning to my 'sis' : "who in God's name is that?"
"Oh - that's --. They used to call him 'slim' remember?"
I didn't, but I wished that I did.
As the crowd congealed into one huge lumpy mass of laughter and chatter, I cranked my neck around and took in the whole scene. Time is such an incidental thing - I thought. People may change on the outside, perhaps to a certain measure on the inside, but our core, our essence of our being stays the same. What a marvel of humanity - how such a thing can stay so constant over such a long period of time and physical, emotional and geographical evolution.
And for that moment, I was deeply moved. You can see it in my smile in the photo - front and center, as usual ! LOL!

So the parade of food came in on time, but I found it bizarre how the DJ played dance music the whole dinner. I lost count how many plates of Bow pasta in a Rosé sauce sat untouched on each table! I was starving and I am glad I ate all of my meals too. It was all the starch that saved my stomach and reputation at the open bar later on that night. I could go on for hours, but I will spare you the sucky details of my reminiscing (which would only be relevant to me and the 130 others that were in attendance that night), but in summation, the whole event was something that everybody should experience at least once in a lifetime. So the next time you receive an invitation to your class reunion, don't throw it away. Don't beat yourself up by saying: "Why should I go?" or "I have not done enough in my life to want to face up to these people again, with all their houses, and kids and great jobs..." . Chances are, they are all saying the same things themselves about you! We only go around once in this trip called 'life', sometimes you have to bite the bullet, fear the fear and do it anyway and take chances. 20 years goes by so incredibly fast and regrets for things not done, opportunities not taken are the poisons of time and life.

On a closing note (which I find so completely appropriate to this blog), I met my old English teacher again. A little weaker for wear, but still as sweet as ever, he recognized me right away. 'Hi there --! Are you still writing?"
I used to love his classes. It was thanks to him that I continued in the craft; his inspiration and belief in my talent as a writer are the reasons why I am now doing what I love as part of my living.
"Of course! It was thanks to you that I went into writing and script writing today! I am entering a contest for the Comedy Network this month! I plan to make a skit comedy show! You may not know it, and perhaps I never told you, but you inspired me! Thanks to you I am doing what I have always wanted to do! "
A smile appeared from ear to ear. I think I actually managed to make him a bit shy. "Why thank you --. That is very wonderful to hear, but I always knew you had it in you to do great things..."
So I dedicate this blog to you Mr. Dugas, and to you, my 'sis' Lucy. Thank you for believing in a kid, who, for the longest time, didn't even believe in herself.

It's been 20 years...

Last night I had the best surprise - a friend who was my buddy, my 'sister' called me to confirm the seating arrangements for the 20th anniversary high school reunion. We had been in email contact for the last 2 months, but had not spoken in 20 years!! It was soo weird - weird in a good way though - I was surprised that we spoke and laughed like we had just spoken on the phone yesterday! It was always so easy to talk to her, and I kind of dreaded the awkward 'catching up' thing ("so what have you been doing? Really? You married? How many kids?...") but it was so natural. I think that a true friend is someone you never fall out of touch with, no matter the distance or time that has passed between the two of you.

So she gave me the scoop on who is going to be there, who is not, who is married, divorced...
"You know, after 20 years you would think that some of these stupid 'cliques' we had in high school would have worn off, but you would be surprised!"
Just the way people rubberneck at accidents on the highway, I cant wait to see how these pockets of 'cliques' are going to pan out in 'real time' 20 years later...

"And there are some guys that when I told them about you say: 'I wish I would have asked her out when I had a chance..." I laugh because had these guys actually owned a set of balls, they might have been with you now!"
That is going to be sooo strange. Seeing somebody 20 years later and have them say to your face things that went unspoken and just faded away with time. Its going to be sooo strange, but I intend to have fun and make this a memorable night (staying sober and not being a homewrecker cause I am sure this night is going to be full of incidences like that!)!

So Saturday at 5pm, the fun begins...

I slept all day today - my body ached so much I could not move. My head was stuffed and throat was like an unpaved country road. I was miserable. I missed two days of film festiavaling which made the day seem that much longer. This is a flu. It has hit full force. Throw PMS in the mix and you have one hell of a mean bitch on wheels!

I thought this was so cute - my friend told me that even though he has not known me for long, he thought that I was "quite interesting and fun" during this, my 'week from hell'. I guess I have an interesting flipside - more introspective, (more sensitive - a good thing/bad thing), more loopy (which is always good for laughs when I forget what I said 2 minutes ago...) and at times, calmer. That was really sweet. I know he was being honest because he is a no bullshit type of guy. It's funny - PMS is considered to be the monster of all monsters, but to this flipside, something positive.
Thanks D. ;-)
That was the first time anybody has ever said that to me.

On the lead wings of a butterfly.

My body feels like an anvil - those cartoon anvils that fall from the sky and flatten Daffy Duck or the Coyote in the Bugs Bunny Cartoons. My arms feel like they are made of lead, yet move so effortlessly like a butterfly. I am soo sick. I cant remember the last time I was this sick.
My head feels like it is stuffed with Pampers and I am talking through a mouthful of cotton.
I missed an important meeting today with this producer/founder of DOCSPACE - a heavy duty group that is on the cutting edge of a revolution of making simulcast movies across the world a reality. I am soo upset that I had to miss it.
I too feel that I have missed my day.

Time snagged and suspended in phlegm.

Yea, its gross but that is such an accurate analogy.

Yes Virginia, there ARE no coincidences....

This came from a friend of mine who (thank you F.!!) read my blog from yesterday:

For the record, I disagree with you; there are tons of coincidences around us every day. Sometimes we notice them, sometimes we don't. What strikes us as an extraordinary coincidence is the fact that, that day, you noticed it. But what about all the other days where a coincidence could have happened but you never noticed (ex. A friend passing by that you didn't notice). The thing is, we don't know about those coincidences even though they happen. I know, I know, you must be thinking, well that's not as fun but your brain is telling you I am probably right - lol

True, very true..
But I replied with this:
My question to you is: why are we more aware of certain coincidences and not others? Why are the ones we stumble upon, stumbled upon??

Giovanni Battista Pergolesi... Why do you continue to haunt me??

Another weird thing (I can hear Leonard Nemoy's voice begin in the background...) - this man continues to haunt. And it is such a sad thing to hear that his life was cut so short at the tender age of 26...
http://earlymusic.com.sapo.pt/pergolesi.htm

There ARE no coincidences...

Okay - my life has graduated from a Sienfeld episode to an X file...
This coincidence stuff is just getting too fucken weird.

Please allow me to explain(er...uh... rant)
I had that weird experience/coincidence with:
That choral/Pergolesi thing (see about all of this hubbub below)
That crazy funny song (You sexy thing - WHICH BY THE WAY - is very unbelievablely connected as I was telling a friend about it today, and midway through the story, mid syllable of the song title she says to me:
OH MY GOD!! My cousin used that very song in her wedding speech! She sampled those lyrics with the music and inserted it into her monologue! Now how fucken wild is that??!"

Tell me about it sister...

SO!
Then there is the other day when I received this email/classified job email, which I usually delete, and was pissed off because I received the same email 4 times, took the time to read it to the bottom only to see a call for submissions/pitches for the Comedy Network which are having a contest to 'Pitch your best Comedy Show idea!" Winner gets $5000 and a contract, and pilot for the show with the Comedy Network. And those of you who know me know that I have been throwing around this idea for more than 10 years now. And what makes it so creepy is the day before, I reminded myself to email a friend so we could actually get a jump on this project together ASAP because I had hit a creative streak...

Flipped out there.

Today, I was on my way to the docu film festival (Ron Mann is going to be talking and showing his amazing hysterical Documentary called Grass : http://www.sphinxproductions.com/pages/film_grass.html
and I pick up those stupid metro magazines again because it was being shoved in my face on my way into the metro, and low and behold, I am thinking... "Must call my crazy likeminded outrageous dude pal about doing that comedy contest! He should be getting his work email this morning!" And as I am flipping through the cheaply inked pages, I see his picture and a whole article on him. I almost lost my fucken breakfast all over myself. I think I turned a shade of transparent cause the woman in the seat next to me was ready to let me take her place. I shook for about 20 minutes after that incident.
NOW HOW FUCKEN WEIRD IS THAT!??!

THEN!! (yes everybody, it does get more bizarre)
I got to the doc film symposium with my gal pal, we take notes, listen to the surprisingly promising news about the renewed interest and renaissance period of documentary films recently, and then we hear some of the filmmakers share their wisdom with us. One in particular blew me away - and seemed to have taken the same route as I am currently. Odd of odd is that he was a photographer and was mentored by Paul Strand and ended up making a documentary about him. I love Paul Strand, so hearing this was such music to my ears.

My GP (gal pal) B. and I stood on the sidelines after lunch and waited to ask him some questions. It was a pretty funny sight - we looked like two film groupies as we watched and waited in the distance as he finished up a conversation with an admiring fan. So when he came by (we were going to trip and wrestle him to the ground, but thought a more subtle approach would work better) we introduced ourselves and I went into my spheil about photography, cinematography and making movies. In the end, we had a nice chat, and very subtly asked him if he would look at my pix and my documentary proposals and perhaps would be interested in (mentoring me) co-producing them at some later date. I love to shmooze and am such an eloquent social slutty kick ass butterfly sometimes... I had remembered to put on my Teflon underwear this morning.

So 5 hours later, the thing is wrapping up and closing comments are being said. The usual lame questions from the audience are tossed around and I decide to bring to light a European model where this brilliant organization simultaneously broadcasts across 8 countries in more than 500 theatres, first time or underground doc film makers. I asked "if it took only 3 years to get this off the ground, and it is across 8 countries, why don't we, one country, have a thing like this in Canada???" From the Anglophones in the audience that understood my question, clapped in agreement. I was quickly silenced by some corporate bimbo who gave me a 2 cent answer and proceeded to go onto the next question. I was really pissed.

So low and behold - I am outside with GPB. and we are talking about that very moment, and this woman who's personality was so vibrant, she was shaking the whole whole building, came up to us and said :" I am so happy somebody knew about this!! We had the premier last week and it was a smashing success!"

She spoke at a million miles and hour in a heavy French/Swiss accent telling me all about this organization. The clincher is....
She is one of the founders/organizers/producers/directors/ of this whole trans Euro thing.
She is also the producer of a phenomenal documentary film called : Fellini - I Am A Born Liar. Could I not be more stunned! First of all - connecting with someone who is involved with something this huge, and the fact that I LOVE FELLINI!!! So we both zoomed through our conversations at now, a billion miles an hour, and upon suggestion of exchanging emails, she said - 'well, lets have coffee Wednesday morning! I would love to talk to you about this!!"

So practically falling over in a state of shock, me and GPB were sitting there after she left, our mouths hanging open, catching files.
"Girl, this whole day is one big coincidence for you is it not? WOW!"

I call my cell phone to see what messages I had.
There is a clip of a French version of a love song from Brian Adams. A 45 second clip and it ends. Tried to *69 - number unknown.
??????Can this get any more bizarre???

HELL YES!!!!!

We go to buy tickets and I feel this tap on my shoulder. It is my my brilliant filmmaker friend Mahmoud Kaäbour. I had not seem him in ages and was thinking just the other day; "I must email Mah - it's been ages!" So already wired on my day, I hop around happier and more surprised that a pig in shit and say: "OH MY GOD!! WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT YOU NOT % MINUTES AGO!!" And that was no lie - cause that Electric Euro Franco/Swiss had just mentioned going to see it, and I said "Oh yea! Its a great film and I know him!!" I only realized on my way home that he must have wondered why I was that happy and surprised to see him.
So we bla bla again - and we said we'd be in touch "Email me!!" seems to be the standard 'goodbye' these days...

So me and GPB sit down and pull out our festival maps. Looking like total festival geeks (or people in the industry) we are furiously circling and crossing off films that we will see...

"You know I saw this great film last here called Nosotros - about the Argentinean people and their beautiful sense of pride in the Tango. GPB, being a huge fan of Tango said: "Oh! I would love to see it!!"
"It was great! Last year, I went up to him after the screening, I talked to him about his film, we went for coffee, ran into each other during the fest, went out for beers, and was his guest for the 'Film Festival Party'! It was a scream!"
We laughed, but I quickly became silent as I shuffled through the mountain of promo flyers and press releases floating around the lobby...

"Nosotros" - Diego Martinez - February 21, 2005 - Rencontres International Du Documentaires du Montreal.

I just moved the flyer over with my finger on the date and said nothing.
We just looked at each other in stunned silence for about 30 seconds and then burst out into hysterical laughter...

Needless to say, on my way home, I had to stop to get a 6/49 for Wednesday....
I'll keep you posted...

The PMS monster and her army.

Its coming.
I can feel it.
The troops are amassing in my ovaries and plotting their strategic slide down the tubes of Fallopian.

It has already reared its ugly head.
The knee-jerk weeping, the super sense of smell, the high libido...
The PMS monster is growing inside of me. There is little I can do about it but to observe, know when to step in and be a referee. I can hear the march of her army.


Note to self: for the next 7 days, stay in a padded cell, eat lots of chocolate, salt and vinegar chips, watch alot of Flintstones episodes and have a huge supply of Clearasil. Must steer clear of sharp objects, ledges and cliffs, wear a full padded body crash suit and most important - extricate myself from any and all situations where I might be caught off guard.
I can become defenseless and can be destroyed in a single monosyllabic swipe of an offhand comment or a comment not spoken but anticipated.

Hopefully, I will come out alive and in one piece...

Stabat Mater, Monsieur Hot Dog and other strange coincidneces...

Just got back from the recital - the famous (well for me that is) the Stabat Mater by Pergolesi. It was phenomenal! I actually shed a tear when the duo sang the first part of the piece. The whole thing was mind-blowing - the ambience of this gigantic church, the low lights and candles casting an orange glow, the faint smell of incense in the air, the cathedral ceilings arched above my head gracefully, covered in Latin script and softly brushed clouds. The acoustics also added an element to the whole 'piety' of the experience: the harmonics crisp and strong, the tenor's voice reverberating through the pews. I closed my eyes for that one particular piece and began to envision the whole scene from my film: each detail, each movement, was there in front of my 'mental cinema screen'. It was quite breathtaking, so real. I was there...


The mother lifts the boy from his small bed. His fever is rising quickly. Tossing his head furiously side to side, he moans in a weak voice:

"Mother, mother, please help me, help me.
Mother, I see only darkness now. Save me from the darkness.
I am afraid. Please do not leave me alone mother. Please do not leave me..."

She rushes through the wooden doors of the kitchen. . Her long petticoat floats behind her gracefully as she struggles to keep her balance, running through the lush green meadow with the limp child in her arms - his body gracefully draped like a velvet curtain to her chest.
(Begin the Stabat Mater first movement - Duet)
Stabat Mater dolorosa, iuxta Crucem lacrimosa, dum pendebat Filius

At, the Cross, her station keeping, stood the mournful Mother weeping, close to Jesus to the last.

She is rushing towards the small pond - hoping that the water might bring his fever down. Ankle deep she wades through tall grass and bogs, bending down slowly, carefully. His loose arms and legs skim the top of the water. She bends down on her knees and immerses his whole body, keeping his head buoyant in her arms. Their clothes float effortlessly around them. Taking water with her hand, she sprinkles it over his face, and pushes back his now matted hair. Her weeping voice echoes off the pond, filling the summer air.

She whispers into her son's ear, tries to evoke a response from him, takes his fragile arm and lifts it to her face, kissing his tiny hand. The rain begins to fall gently on their already soaked skin and clothes.

In the distance, the father slowly walks to the door and pauses. His eyes are heavy, but are filled with a sad yet resigned stare, a resignation deep within.

As the rain begins to fall harder, the mother tries desperately to revive her now quickly dying child. Her clothes begin to weigh heavy on her body. Strands of wet hair cling to her bare neck and flushed cheeks.

The two sisters are seen running through the house and to the back door. They look into the distance with fear and trepidation. The father stands between them – his thick arms holding each one back. In between tears and shouts, their bodies slowly become limp as they begin to weep helplessly, knowing that there is nothing more that can be done to save their brother and that their mother must now too realize this herself.

The rain beats down furiously on the mother and the child in her arms. She looks at his sullen face, begging him for one last breath, one last look into her eyes.
Barely moving his tiny lips, he whispers:
"I am not afraid anymore mother…"

His eyes close slowly.

The mother lowers her head. Her body begins to shake as she beings to cry louder and harder. She lifts his lifeless body out of the water and rests his head and shoulders over her bent knee. Looking up to the sky, her tears and rain stream down her face as she begins to scream.

(Phew! Shit that was long!!)
So anyway –that is the scene in my movie set in the 17th century – a co-production with France and Italy and Canada about a young girl who wants to be a singer but cant because she is a girl… Bla bla bla.

But back to the original train of thought here – the recital was beautiful, and it was kinda spiritually cleansing, rejuvenation type of thing. Maybe it was peace – that is what I found there. Peace with myself and my vision for my ideas (movies). Oddly enough – I had my camera with me and took some pix. As I was leaving a girl came up to me and asked me what I do for a living. (I am a starving artist honey!!) She was all happy that I took photos of her work and art direction because she was so worried about this evening that she forgot to bring a camera to take photos of her stuff! So I gave her my card and she said she would call me to order some prints. Hmm – a coincidence leads to another coincidence, then to another…
Signposts. Take note when you see them coming, slow down to read them when you are there, and take that information with you to help you navigate along the journey…

This was taken outside of the church. I was feeling pious but at the same time, craving a steamed hot dog... 

This was taken at the Church where the Stabat Matar was performed - the girl who painted this huge mural (40x20 feet) actually came up to me at the end of the recital and wanted to know if I could sell her some photos becasuse she was too preocupied to bring a camera tonight. She was so grateful that I was there and captured her work...  

Bare Beavers... "Did you see when..."

I just remembered a funny episode from "Curb Your enthusiasm" when Larry David gets a pube stuck in his throat and tries everything under the sun to get it out, the whole time making this horrible throaty "Khhhhhhhhrhrhrrrrrrkkkk' noise. He even goes to see a doctor to get it out... Funny as hell. A must see!
The episode is called: Mary, Joseph and Larry and is in the 2nd season...

Another memorable quote:
"Larry!! You ate the Baby Jesus and Mary!!"
"But I thought they were monkies - animal cookies!"

(or something like that)

Taken at Club 1234 Halloween night. This person/thing was about 10 feet tall. Creepy. Would hate to have this thing hovering over my bed at night! 

Pergolesi and other strange coincidences...

Who would have thought! I start off this blog yesterday - mentioning about this 'oktohie' thing (which means life purpose in Japanese btw - if you need a frame of reference, read my bio), and I mention it today to a friend of mine while speaking about films (this quote came from a film that I saw at the MWFF last year) and also mentioned an idea for a film that I have on the back burner. It would have to be a co-production with either France or Italy cause I would need access to some of those grandiose theatres with those great velvet drapes, and also the rolling lush green landscapes of Provence, SOOOO - I mention this idea which takes place in the 17-1800, and I explain in detail about this death scene. Kinda like the Pieta with Mary holding Jesus, (same context - mother and child) and she is out in the rain, weeping while her young son dies in her arms. Can you see it? Move over Merchant/Ivory! And the music I hear playing over it is the Stabat Mater by Pergolese. I can imagine the bridge of the first movement corresponding to her looking up to the skies, another crescendo introduces the movement of her hands brushing away the water from his face. Even now, I can hear the music... (insert MP3 here..) So would you not know it, all this talk about me finding my 'purpose in life' through me making movies, I get on the metro and I see one of those "metro newspapers' (whoever thought about that was a genius! No more glaring at other people during the morning commute to work -now you can hide your face in a metro mag!) and as I flip through, I see in the corner of my eye the little heading "Stabat Mater'. My heart skipped a beat. I mean there are so many "Stabat Mater's I mean I think Marylyn Manson must have done a death metal Goth version by now; so I scan this little 75 word blurb and low and behold - it is Pergolese!! And what is it? It is the whole composition being sung Saturday night at 8pm at a church quite literally a stone's throw from my place!! Thank God there are handrails on the escalators in the metro and they run kinda slow mo because I would have taken a nice long tumble. WHAT WERE THE CHANCES!?!?? C'mon! All you sceptics out there - I dare you to find an explanation to this one!! That was just too strange...

I am starting to believe more and more that sometimes there are little markers along the road to life that kinda say to you 'yea, you are going in the right direction - keep going". This is another one of those glorious moments...


Here is the linkamajig for the toon:
http://www.e-compil.fr/produit.jsp?section=0&axis=2&id=165

(an aside - this just in from my fave web psychic (http://www.cainer.com/) for tommorow and the weekend:
You feel as if you are only just coping. There is, though, all the difference in the world between "only just" and "not at all". Beethoven "only just" completed his ninth symphony. The allied forces "only just" managed to win World War Two. A success is a success no matter how narrow the margin. You may be tired, you may be struggling but you are on the right path. You are doing what needs to be done. And if you keep on going, you will reach your goal. That's all you need to remember this weekend.

Woa.. Well "Hail Mary in a handbag***' - that is some strange news...

Just in case you are in the area, here are the stats...
I will be there of course - this is just too creepy to miss...
Maybe I will meet the producer of this film during the intermission!?!?!

Stabat Mater by Pergolese

Pianist: Guy-Francois Morel
Soprano: Marie -Helene Anctil
Mez-Soprano: France Champagne
Baratone: Martin Boucher

8pm
Eglise Notre Dame du Rosaire
corner of St. Hubert and Villeray.
Metro Jarry, south on St. Hubert

*** That is my saying - I give you permission to use it only if you direct people to this blog...

Complex Vibration Exciter - a real machine!