John Barry is immortal

There are moments like this, you think you are going to blog about something (I had in mind "End of the month, beginning of the week" as a topic) and then the news feeds you something else. So John Barry died. I really admired him as a composer, but more than that, I adore his music. His James Bond score of course. The movies would not have been such classics without his music. I feel speechless in these circumstances, like I was going to give my sympathies to the family members of someone I knew, enjoyed the company of and admired. You just feel dumb. But when it comes to John Barry, or indeed any musician, there is always his music. He composed his own eulogy, better than anybody could have.

I wondered which one of his famous works to put here. I have done so before, things that would have been appropriate for the circumstances. But I thought the theme music for Midnight Cowboy would have the right tone. And if my readers allow me a cliché before I publish this, I will say that John Barry is immortal.

Les livres empruntés

En commentant sur ce billet, mon petit frère m'a rappelé un comportement littéraire pas toujours plaisant et parfois même franchement philistin: l'emprunt permanent de bouquins. Ca m'est arrivé plus souvent qu'à mon tour: j'ai à la maison Blade Runner,quelques Livres dont vous êtes le héros et d'autres trucs qui ne m'appartiennent pas et que pourtant je possède depuis vingt ans ou plus (pour Blade Runner ça date de dix-huit ans au moins). J'en ai été victime aussi: l'amie de mon plus jeune frère m'a emprunté le Dictionnaire de mythologie grecque et romaine de Pierre Grimal, LA référence en la matière et qui coûtait bien sûr une fortune. Je ne l'ai pas revu depuis neuf ans (oui, j'ai compté). J'ai eu plus de chance avec La tragédie du roi Christophe d'Aimé Césaire, emprunté par une amie d'origine haïtienne qui faisait du théâtre avec moi: elle me l'a rendue sans l'avoir lue après quelques semaines. Je me demande si mon lectorat a des bouquins comme ça qu'ils n'ont jamais revus, ou s'ils ont dans leur bibliothèque des livres empruntés qui le sont déjà depuis longtemps.

Musing on being an expat

It happens to me sometimes, I think about my statue as an expat. I think about it more these days as I have a few new readers (and one new follower) who are also Quebeckers living in another country.

Being an expat is now part of my identity: I am not merely a Quebecker, I am a Quebecker living abroad, I have this particular experience, perspective on life that is different than the ones of most of my compatriots. I lived here before, but that was supposed to be temporary. It is only since 2006 that I really became aware that I might live the rest of my adult life in a foreign country. Of course, you never know what the future may hold and I might one day go back home, or even live somewhere else, but for now I am here. It is an important part of what I became, it is also one of the reasons why I started this blog: because I thought my particular experience as a foreigner (I am still desperately foreign here) and an expat was of some interest. I still think it is. 

Being an expat means that I miss a lot of things, trivial and not so trivial, that my compatriots take for granted: certain seasonal changes, food (well of course), places, etc. More importantly, I miss sharing these things: as I am the only Quebecker I know in the area (I have met some but don't know where they are), I have nobody but myself to understand all these cultural references. On the other hand, being an expat made me more foreign towards my own countrymen: I do not have the same experience than they now do and see the collective events they live from a distance. A TV series or a movie is released, I do not see it. If a natural catastrophe happens, I do not witness it (not that I wish to be in one again). Political scandals and news from Quebec touch me deeply, in spite of the distance and maybe because of it, but I am still away from the action. I also live on a regular basis in a different cultural that influence me, however foreign I still am. Wwhether I like it or not, I would a member of the Quebec diaspora, if there was such a thing here.

Deux ans déjà...

J'ai reçu des nouvelles aujourd'hui de la dame qui m'avait engagé il y a maintenant deux ans pour enseigner dans une association de parents français à des enfants issus de familles francophones/bilingues. Je lis la dame, mais je la considérais une amie, enfin assez proche de cela lorsque je travaillais là bas. Un instant, j'ai cru que c'était pour m'offrir une place à nouveau. Mais non, c'était simplement pour me demander si j'avais toujours les bouquins que je lui avais empruntés pour les classes.

Je ne sais pas si je devrais dire "hélas". Ca m'a attristé de perdre la job, même si je ne gagnais presque rien et que ça grugeais mes samedis et mes fins de semaines. Quand je travaillais à temps partiel, ça allair encore, mais travailler à temps plein en plus de cela était vraiment épuisant. Sauf que j'aimais les liens que cela avait créé avec les francophones ici et les enfants étaient mignons. J'étais aussi devenu un bon prof je crois, alors que je n'avais aucune expérience d'enseignement dans ce contexte particulier. Maintenant que je ne veux plus travailler dans le merveilleux monde de l'éducation (sans regret d'ailleurs), je n'ai même plus besoin de ce genre de travail qui fait bien dans un c.v. lorsqu'on veut obtenir ses qualifications d'enseignant. Cela dit, je m'ennuie de tout ce qui venait avec le travail.

My name (and how it is pronounced)

My name is a fairly common one in French, at least for people of my generation. I know I was not the only Guillaume in the word since I was about four. But here in the English speaking world, it is just as foreign (or at best exotic) as something from the other side of the planet. I am from the other side of the Atlantic, but the name itself comes merely from the other side of the Channel, and originally from Germany. William, its English equivalent, is ridiculously common. But almost nobody pronounce it right.

I usually joke about it. One of the first thing I say when someone I meet for the first time struggle with my name is "Don't worry, it took my wife a month". Which might not be quite true, but not far from it. It is a funny line anyway, enough to place it among my great unknown lines. It does get slightly irritating sometimes: colleagues who have known for months still can't get it right. A man once thought my name was Jim, don't know how he could have heard that one.

 So for the non French speakers among my readership who might have difficulties pronouncing it, here is how to do it. It is pronounced "Gee-iom". Not Gooweelam, not Gweelom, or whatever weird pseudo Innu pronunciation you can come up with. Gee like geek, and iom like, well, something or other. Simple. You can find it on audio on Google. That said, I struggled a fair deal to find a good sound sample, but I found this one here, where you can hear the difference between French and Québec pronunciation.

Question existentielle (33)

J'essaie de relancer les questions existentielles, parce que je n'ai pas fait depuis un certain temps (depuis le 18 janvier en fait). Alors voilà:

-Qu'est-ce qui crée le plus pur bonheur le samedi?

Deers on the journey

I wish I had a digital camera on me every time I commute. Two days ago I was on the train, in the middle of my journey and I saw two deers in a field by the tracks. They were far away from us, but deers are good subjects for pictures that make you go "aaawwwww". I love the proximity with wildlife we have in this country. We can have it in any country I guess, if one looks hard enough, but it is still fun to experience it.

La neige chimérique

Cette photo n'a pas été prise ici, mais chez mes parents. Je ne sais pas de quand elle date. Je la pose ici parce qu'il était supposé neiger cette semaine, jeudi et/ou vendredi. Or, il n'a pas neigé. J'ai pu sentir la neige, comme ça m'arrive parfois, mais elle n'est jamais tombée. Et j'aurais bien aimé qu'elle tombe. Ca m'aurait peut-être donné un jour de congé inattendu, puisque le pays se paralyse plus souvent qu'autrement lorsqu'il neige. Ce qui n'est pas drôle du tout lorsqu'on est supposé voyager, mais sinon c'est très agréable de pouvoir s'arrêter pour respirer, surtout lorsqu'on trouve que janvier est d'une épouvantable monotonie.

Peut-être que j'écris ce genre de billet par simple nostalgie. C'est un peu vrai, mais c'est aussi parce que mon existence est un peu monotone par les temps qui courent. Enfin, j'espère que la neige sera autre chose que chimérique d'ici au printemps.

The birthday of Mozart

I am lousy with birthday dates, I mean very lousy. So I am happy that Mozart's Girl reminded me on her food blog that today was the birthday of Mozart. I have been listening to his arias all evening. That is the best way to celebrate I think, on a week night when I was not planning anything anyway. I could sing some of them, but that might drive my wife mad.

So I was not expecting to put music on this blog so soon, but the circumstances now force me. The best way to celebrate Mozart is to listen to his music and have people listen to it. As I said before, I came to Mozart through his operas. It is logical that I put an aria here tonight. Which one is the question. I thought my readers might get a bit tired of listening to baritone singing stuff I used to sing or wished I had sung and it makes me green with envy when I listen to them, so I have decided to put an aria sung by Danielle de Niese. Sure, she is not Natalie Dessay who is my favourite soprano now, but I still feel guilty for blogging some mean things about Danielle de Niese a while back. I mean, the girl was in the Met at 19! At that age, I had barely started learning to sing. And I never master it enough, let's be honest. Anyway, she sings Una donna a quindici anni from Cosi fan tutte very nicely there, with just mischievious and bubbly enough to make us forget that we are in a concert. Singing in character, with character. And well, it's Mozart in all its simple beauty.

La communauté des Québécois expatriés

Ce billet et ma nouvelle lectrice m'auront valu de découvrir la communauté virtuelle des Québécois expatriés. Étrange que je n'aie jamais vraiment cherché à trouver cette tribu depuis que je me suis installé en Angleterre. Les quelques blogues québécois que je lis sont pour la plupart des produits du terroir restés au terroir (Prof Solitaire, Haphazard Life, L'Étrange cas du Baron Luisant), même Un Bleuet loin du fjord, s'il a été expatrié en Ontario quelques temps, ça n'a été que temporaire (quoique que l'Ontario, c'est loin en estie, culturellement parlant). Mais des Québécois comme moi, qui ont quitté le pays en permanence ou pour un bon bout de temps, assez peu. J'ai le sentiment que j'ai du rattrapage à faire. C'est un nouvel univers pour moi. Je me sentais un blogueur un peu ermite. Maintenant je me rends compte que je ne suis pas seul.

To keep in touch

"What a nice expression
TO KEEP IN TOUCH
I like it I love it
I appreciate it so much
really what I'm looking for in life
is to keep in touch
that's the most important thing
and I seriously think that our duty
is to keep in touch
so much people and things are left out
so tonight my motto is
TO KEEP IN TOUCH"

This is from the beginning of The Dragonfly of Chicoutimi I developed an obsession with the play since I first read it, an obsession close to fetishism and I might end up typing the whole play on this blog, quote after quote, line after line. If I need to find a monologue for my acting classes, it will be from there.I have decided this a long time ago, I just need the opportunity. Why did I decide to put the lines here? Because I think that sometimes, quoting great lines is better than trying to find your own words when the lines in question illustrate perfectly your state of mind. I am a guy from Chicoutimi, an expat, and I am trying to keep in touch.

Une nouvelle lectrice

Tiens, juste quand je songeais à bloguer sur la présence francophone sur ce blogue et sur la manière d'augmenter mon lectorat de langue française, ce billet dont le titre est inspiré d'une chanson de Robert Charlebois (celle que tout expatrié québécois écoute et chante au moins six mois par année et qui a d'ailleurs trouvé sa place ici) me donne une nouvelle lectrice, québécoise montréalaise expatriée à Paris. Avec l'odeur du varech, c'est je crois l'une des premières fois que quelqu'un tombe sur ce blogue et s'y accroche totalement par hasard. Alors voilà, bienvenue à Cynthia. Je visiterai son blogue avec plaisir et j'invite mes lecteurs à faire de même. C'est toujours plaisant de faire la connaissance d'autres expatriés.

Nocturnal fact of life

Just when my muses were smiling at me and I started to have ideas to blog about and the words started coming to me, I see that it is time for me to go to sleep. It is a cruel life for a nocturnal creature like myself. At least I managed to read a bit tonight. But I wanted to blog. No time to do it properly. So I will just write this quick post. I think I should become a writer, or some kind of artist, so I can work late and be productive when I can be.

Une autre page de nostalgie hivernale

J,ai appris de mes parents qu'il neige et qu'il fait froid au Québec. (Surprise! Qui l'aurait cru, en janvier?). En froid, selon ce que je sais pas -40, mais ce n'est plus un janvier doux d'il y a peu de temps et pas le janvier vert de gris d'ici. J'ai soudain des envies de sentir le froid sur moi, ce qui me fait plus apprécier les soirées passées à l'intérieur et le confort. Je sais, il y en a parmi vous qui doivent me trouver masochiste. Mais je m'assume: un hiver froid c'est mieux qu'un hiver vert de gris et tiède. Et je parle maintenant d'expérience.

Et je me rappelle aussi que je n'ai pas patiné depuis des années. Ironiquement, les deux dernières fois que c'est arrivé, j'étais en Angleterre! Une fois dans un aréna à Oxford qui était plus une mare qu'une patinoire et une fois ailleurs, sur une glace ma foi fort convenable. J'ai quand même eu le bras broyé par ma femme (même pas ma fiancée à l'époque), qui n'était pas aussi à l'aise que moi sur la glace. J'ai appris à patiner sur le tard, vers dix ou douze ans, mais c'est l'un des seuls sports que je pratique correctement. Même si je n'en ai pas fait depuis des années, je lie étroitement le patin à ma québécitude et à mon identité familiale: du côté de ma mère on apprenait à patiner avant d'apprendre à marcher.

Preparing for the stage

I thought I could blog about acting again, as I haven't done it too much and since it takes a lot of my mind. My acting course is starting at the end of February (the end!) and I am getting impatient. Therefore, I am still waiting for things to happen and it is not only January that I will find long. Strange that even though I am busy at work I feel like I am not doing much.

That said, it sounds sadder than it is. Waiting can be exciting in itself and it is nice to have something to look forward to. I miss everything about the class: the warming up exercises, the atmospheric room (I could blog about the room alone), the people of course and well the voice. I am preparing myself mentally to it, remembering the exercises (not doing them much, shame on me), the course, but also reading quite a lot the plays I have here. Not because I think I will play them (although I hope I will have to read a monologue or two of my choice), but because I try to see (not merely read) the plays as an actor. I try to get the right voice for the character. It is great fun. So I spend a fair deal of my free time with Melpomene and Thalia. Maybe I am taking this too seriously. But it's such great fun.

Parlons de gruau

Non, sans blague, parlons de gruau. Je n'en ai pas mangé de vrai depuis des années, la dernière fois je crois que c'était un truc préfait immangeable. Étrange, parce qu'on croirait que l'Angleterre est le pays du porridge, mais je n'en ai trouvé du vrai et du bon nulle part où j'ai déjeuné. Il va me falloir en préparer moi-même, donc avoir la discipline et la patience pour le faire. Moi qui suis d'un naturel paresseux au lever, je me mets à rêver à des déjeuners copieux qui exigent de la préparation.

Pourquoi je me mets à avoir la nostalgie du gruau? Parce que j'ai lu cet article dans Cyberpresse, qui dit qu'il redeviendrait populaire. Étrange que je n'aie pas particulièrement mangé de gruau durant mon enfance. Je me rappelle de celui de ma grand-mère, je me rappelle en avoir mangé de temps en temps, mais ce n'est pas arrivé très souvent. Le gruau m'a fait survivre après que l'on m'ait enlevé mes dents de sagesse: c'était la seule chose que je pouvais manger (ça et de la banane pilée et de la compote de pommes). Mais c'était du gruau préfait, l'horreur. Maintenant, j'ai des goûts de longs matins froids où je mangerais un plein bol brûlant d'authentique gruau.

I miss academia

It struck me today: I really miss my time at university, either as a postgrad or as a guy working there. I mean really miss it. I miss it because I don't debate literature at all these days, but I also miss the beat of university life. This was most likely my natural element, a time when not only I could go to bed late, but also work and live on purely intellectual (and often useless) concerns. Teaching literature was the best thing I ever did and the most pleasant thing I ever did professionally. But there were also the thrill of getting in the library (I love university libraries), having a beer and a meal after a seminar in the company of reknown academics, or the seminars/lectures I would attend just for kicks, being a total and unapologetic geek.

I remember during my year in Liverpool attending on a seminar on The Picture of Dorian Gray that didn't even have ten people in it. I popped in out of pure love for Oscar Wilde's novel. I learned little there that I didn't know already, but I was happy to discuss the subject with specialists of the field. I did the same with some history lectures/seminars, which I was formally invited to attend (being a medievalist). I have to confess that I think I preferred the one I attended to just for fun, even though I always find history fascinating.

I haven't done all this since Liverpool in fact, which saddens me. I came close to have a part-time academic job back in 2009, but didn't get it. Money wise I am better off now, and getting the job would have brought a whole deal of little troubles (I would have had to relocate, for one), but there are days I still wish I had got it. I think I was never quite comfortable with teaching in secondary school and below, having to spend time doing discipline and being forced to teach very basic stuff to pupils. But teaching literature, that was something different entirely and I felt like a fish in the water. Oh well, I can still attend seminars for fun if I really want to. I can still play at being an academic.

Juliette et Chocolat

Petit billet gourmand ici, il en faut parfois. Enfin bref, je viens de lire ce bref article (presqu'un entrefilet) dans Cyberpresse sur Juliette et Chocolat, un de nos endroits préférés à Montréal, surtout les journées froides. Mais leur milkshakes sont excellents les journées chaudes aussi. La photo de gauche a été prise lors de notre dernier séjour à Montréal en avril 2010, à leur franchise sur Laurier, laquelle est plus jolie que l'originale sur Saint-Denis, la première que j'ai visitée.

Juliette et Chocolat fait sans doute le meilleur chocolat chaud de Montréal et l'un des meilleurs chocolats chauds que j'aie pu boire à vie. Leurs brownies sont également excellents. Je m'ennuie de l'endroit ces temps-ci d'autant plus que j'ai le mal du pays et que j'ai une attaque aigüe de chocolisme, pour une raison quelconque. Ca doit être le temps de l'année.

The weekend night owl

The title is a bit misleading, as I do go to bed late on normal weekdays (I don't think I quite recovered yet from the social jet lag), much more than I should really. That said, I discovered that even though the holidays are over, I am still an active night owl at weekends. Old (and bad?) habits die hard. That said, I discover that I still prefer to live during nighttime. Not to go clubbing anymore, I am way past that age. But I am more creative at night (hence I am blogging now) and it is the right time to read. It is all quiet outside and I find it all the more soothing knowing that I will not have to wake up early in the morning. It is supposed to be a very bad habit for someone who has an tendency to insomnia like I do. Still, I can't help it, I think it is my natural cycle. I am a creature of the night.

Un fond d'accent saguenéen?

Hier au travail, un Français m'a encore une fois identifié d'emblée comme un Québécois.Ca me rassure toujours un peu quand ça arrive (quand quelqu'un se trompe je suis mort d'inquiétude). Cela dit, j'espère surtout que j'ai gardé l'accent saguenéen, ce qui est difficile de vérifier en dehors du Québec. Surtout que j'ai naturellement tendance à neutraliser mon accent pour me faire comprendre. Cela dit, je m'écoute un peu plus ces temps-ci et j'essaie d'identifier les traits caractéristiques: les là surtout, que je place encore, surtout quand je suis nerveux et les nasales. J'ai très hâte de retourner à Montréal pour voir si je peux être identifié comme un Bleuet d'emblée.

The Lighthouse Keeper song again

Okay, so I blogged about this song before. I loved it since my childhood, when I was listening to the soundtrack of A Clockwork Orange and could not understand a word of English. Now I enjoy it fully. It is a very silly song and this is why I love it. I have known today that a reader of this blog (there are some) finds my blog gloomy these days, so I thought I would put the song here again. It is all about finding treasures, living with seagulls as neighbours and living a simple happy life. And I put it here because I love lighthouses and find them fascinating. They are mysterious places, they can be both sinister like giant ghosts near the sea or havens for ships. The picture at your left was taken near Saint-Malo last year. I found it again recently, and thought it would fit another post about the song.

Le temps ne fait rien à l'affaire

Il passait Le dîner de cons à la BBC, trop tard pour que je me le retape une autre fois, mais il va repasser et puis je peux toujours me le télécharger sur iPlayer pour une semaine. Cela dit, Le temps ne fait rien à l'affaire est utilisé comme chanson au générique et ça m'a donné envie de la réécouter. Je mets souvent Georges Brassens sur ce blogue, mais la dernière fois c'était en septembre et puis on ne l'écoute jamais assez. Ce que j'aime dans cette chanson comme dans bien d'autres de brassens, c'est que derrière la grossièreté il se cache une vérité criante. Je dédie donc cette chanson à tous les cons mentionnés sur ce blogue, les jeunes cons, les vieux cons, les connus, les inconnus, les quelques connes mentionnées et les cons à venir. Et espérons qu'il n'y en ait pas trop.

The necessary evil of shopping

I like Mary Portas since I watched Mary Queen of Shops. Now it is turning into borderline admiration. I might not go that far as I reserve my admiration to great artists or intellectuals . Still, Mary Portas's new show, Secret Shopper, got me rooting for her. I distractedly watched it most of the time, but I love her attitude and I am all for giving the shops of this country some decent customer service.

I don't like shopping in general, except when it is for books, but I always find it more difficult here, clothes shops especially (this is partially why most of my clothes are getting old). In Québec, I feel the staff more helpful. Maybe it is a cultural false perception and I just feel more comfortable buying things from home. But still, I was pampered by people who actually knew their stuff back home (one of Kanuk's employees who sold me my winter coat was dealing with four other clients and I never felt left alone once AND I still love the coat), and here whatever I buy I end up buying it without help, empathy or.

Maybe I am more sensitive to this issue because I work now in the private sector (trying to be competent and professional myself), maybe it is because I dream of making less difficult this necessary evil that is shopping, but I hope Mrs Portas's campaign succeeds.

Okay, next time I blog about something more profound, promise.

Le lait contre l'insomnie

Je viens de lire cet article sur Cyberpresse, à propos d'un lait produit la nuit qui serait un antidote contre l'insomnie. Je connaissais déjà bien sûr les vertus du lait chaud contre l'insomnie. Je suis un gros buveur de lait (une des raisons pour laquelle j'éprouve une certaine affection pour les vaches). Enin j'étais, j'en bois moins et c'est dommage. Comme j'ai tendance à souffrir d'insomnie, le lait est l'antidote naturel que j'utilise contre celle-ci, avec plus ou moins de succès. Peut-être que je devrais songer à me procurer de ce "laitde nuit".

I survived Blue Monday

A colleague told me this morning, right before getting to work, that yesterday was Blue Monday. I never heard about it before, or if I did I don't remember it, which is just as good. Blue Monday, also called (more appropriately I think) Black Monday, is supposed to be the most depressing day of the year and well, according to very serious scientific studies (ahem!) it was yesterday. I am happy I didn't know it: the temperature was rainy and miserable, it was dark grey all day, I was tired as I had not slept much the night before and overall it was long, long long and very depressing. I don't know how I got through it, but I did.

And what a difference a day makes! Today it was sunny and I did not feel that sinking feeling of melancholia. Maybe it should be called Recovery Tuesday. Anyway, Blue Monday might a very dubious concept, the Monday Feeling is still very real and yesterday it certainly looked like the most depressing day of the year.

Question existentielle (32)

C'est peut-être parce que je m'ennuie un peu, mais il m'est venu à l'esprit cette question existentielle aujourd'hui:

-Quand est-ce qu'on peut peut prendre des vacances une fois la nouvelle année commencée?

Oui, je sais, ça ressemble un peu beaucoup à la question existentielle numéro 14. Cela dit, elle se pose d'elle-même quand on commence déjà à s'ennuyer.

Going book hunting soon?

Potential good news for the avid crime reader I am, especially when everyday life is desperately beige: Waterstone's is selling its crime fiction 40% off. It beats their vampire romance (sic) offer hands down, but I am not overtly enthusiastic: not that many titles excite me. I am getting a bit blasé about Waterstone's franchises around here: they have best sellers, but I can rarely find my favourite writers or the not too mainstream titles I want to find. Shopping there often gets frustrating, although I do get pleasantly surprised sometimes. And it is true that I rarely leave a bookstore empty handed.

I look at the bookshelves here and the books are piling up dangerously. Still, I love to have the luxury of choice for the upcoming year.

Il m'arrive parfois de rêver de Saint-Malo

Ca m'arrive des fois. J'ai vu Saint-Malo, je l'ai traversée, j'ai débarqué là, mais je ne l'ai jamais proprement visitée. Je cherchais dans mes vieilles photos et j'ai trouvé celle-ci, qui est une des toutes premières que j'ai prises de la ville... en la quittant. C'est quand même curieux, de toutes les villes que je veux visiter, celle-ci j'ai eu la chance de la voir plus souvent qu'autrement. Pourtant je l'ai à peine vue. Il est vrai que quand je débarque à Saint-Malo, je ne le fais jamais en touriste, ce qui explique peut-être que je ne pense jamais à m'y arrêter.

Money for Nothing and censorship

I don't know if it made big news over the Atlantic or indeed outside Canada, but the CBSC decided to censor Money for Nothing by Dire Straits because of its use of the word "faggot". These cowardly attempts to censorsing art always get me boiling down. Thankfully the airwaves resisted. I don't know much about the group to be honest as just got aware of the scandal recently through the Quebec medias, but I happen to be quite fond of that song: it is one my Italian friend (the same one who made me discover Fabrizio de André) used to listen to quite a lot and it reminds me of many lovely evenings I spent with them. And it is the kind of classic rock song I love. So I might not be original, but to say to Hell to those cowardly PC idiots at the CBSC and to give them a virtual middle finger (because I don't mind being rude to cowards, as there is no reason to be polite), I have decided to put the song here.

Une légère angoisse

Bon, notre ligne téléphonique ne fonctionne plus et l'internet fonctionne on and off (enfin c'était le cas il y a quelques heures). Quand ça va mal... Ca m'angoisse un peu, parce que je ne veux pas perdre contact avec l'autre côté de l'Atlantique. Il y a des jours comme ça où je trouve que l'appartement où nous vivons est un vieil endroit qui tombe en ruines. On se sent bien loin des siens dans ces moments-là. J'ai vécu pire, mais quand même, ça a gâché ma soirée.

TWO Shelfari shelves?

Well, this is quite embarassing: I just discovered that there are TWO Shelfari shelves on my blog, one, the proper one, called Tolle, Lege, and the other brown one simply called Shelfari shelve, which colour does not fit as well with this blog. I feel really silly. Since when did I have two?

And yes, I published this picture before. I just thought now was a good excuse to republish it.

Les recherches qui mènent à ce blogue

Je deviens de plus en plus fasciné par le petit monde virtuel des recherches sur Google et sur les algorithmes qui mènent le lecteur sur ce blogue. Voici une petite liste non exhaustive des recherches qui mènent à ce blogue:

-"Les meilleurs croissants Montréal" sur Google.ca mène ici.
-"L'odeur du varech" mène éventuellement ici et m'a même valu une nouvelle lectrice.
-"La plotte à Maxime Bernier" (excusez la vulgarité, mais je n'ai pas utilisé le vilain mot, je le jure) mène ici. Maxime Bernier a droit à mon mépris non pas à cause de ses mauvais choix amoureux, mais à cause de sa lâcheté et son refus de reconnaître ses erreurs.
-"Brigitte Paquette nue" (qui a recherché ça je me le demande), mêne directement à mon premier billet sur Omertà. je crois que cette recherche douteuse mène sur le billet parce que mentionnais les séries de Réjean Tremblay. Si jamais elle lit ce blogue, j'offre mes plus profondes excuses à Brigitte Paquette qui est une actrice admirable, que j'ai adorée dans Omertà et dont j'ai toujours apprécié les entrevues.

Being a bear

Today, my wife was out to see some girlfriends so I spent the day and evening by myself. I could have gone to a formal dinner organised by my employers tonight, but I did not want to. I know I said that I was trying to get a social life, but I have my acting for this and I make a distinction between social life and work life. They are not mutually exclusive, but they are not the same and on a Saturday I would rather avoid seeing the same people I see every day, however nice they are. Sometimes one just wants to stay in the cave and be a hermit, or a bear.

And I felt very much like a bear today, an hibernating one: I didn't go out at all but since the weather was grey I didn't mind, I spent all day doing nothing or not much. I read, I watched TV, I listened to music, I enjoyed myself. I also ate very badly: grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner (they were delicious!). I watched at myself in the mirror, unshaved, barely combed, wearing old clothes, looking utterly unglamorous and every bit like a bear does this time of year. How unhappy and out of place I would have felt drinking champagne and having a three course meal. I just needed to be home and I didn't feel like socialising at all. But it ended up being a very pleasant day.

Les meilleurs croissants à Montréal

J'ai déjà mentionné ce débat sur les meilleurs croissants de Montréal, lancé par La Presse. Or, les résultats sont arrivés récemment, ai-je appris de mon père. Les meilleurs seraient donc confectionnés au Fous Desserts. Je ne connaissais pas, même si la pâtisserie est située sur le Plateau. Je ne suis pas étonné que ce soit une pâtisserie indépendante et non pas une chaîne. Je ne suis pas non plus étonné que la pâtisserie soit située sur le Plateau Mont-Royal. La prochaine fois que je retourne dans mon village, je sais où aller acheter mes croissants pour le déjeuner.

Find where this quote is from

I challenged my readers twice, on this post and that one, to find where I got the expression "that pain that does not hurt enough". The exact quote, translated by myself, is this: "I would rather have a hundred bites, rather have the whip, rather vitriol, than this suffering of the head, this ghost of suffering, that grazes, that caresses and that never hurts enough." So I am challenging you again, especially the acting buffs among you, to find where I got it from.

Some clues to help you:

-It is originally in French (well, duh!).
-It is from a play.
-It is a classic.
-I never played in it, but I saw it performed once (in English), by students in philosophy.

-If you are really desperate, you can find it on Selfari at your right.

Of course, when I used I was being overly dramatic, shamelessly using a classic for something that was borderline self-pity. Anyway, it is a great French play I took this from. One I hope I will play it one day.

Mais où sont les froids d'antan?

Bon, je râle, je râle ces temps-ci et surtout à cause du mois, mais après tout il faut bien bloguer sur quelque chose. Une chose m'a frappé aujourd'hui: il fait trop doux. Non, sérieusement, c'est l'hiver et il fait trop doux. Il a tellement fait doux qu'il y a eu un orage aujourd'hui! Je me rappelle des janviers froids québécois, ceux que je détestais et qui me gelaient jusqu'aux os. Je me rappelle de ces journées maintenant avec nostalgie. Cela dit, j'ai appris de mon petit frère sur un commentaire sur ce billet que les froids de janvier étaient peut-être bien choses du passé au Québec. Le froid polaire a ceci de bien qu'il nous fait sentir vivant, même si on doit souffrir.

The waiting time

I am still alive since yesterday, and still blogging, but that January feeling did not leave me. I am feeling all melancholic today, feeling that "pain that does not hurt enough" (come on, someone can find where it comes from, if necessary have a look at Shelfari at the right of your screen). I am tired, demotivated, yet I am still blogging, even uninspired.

A friend of mine chastised me gently for finding January boring. She said I should look at it with new glasses. Maybe she is right. I remember a cartoon program in my childhood where the hero, a little boy and his dad, were complaining after the Christmas holidays that the days were boring and that people should be able to skip everyday life and just go to the fun moments. Then the grandmother told them that if they were living like this, there would be no expectation and we would not appreciate special days. It was wise, but it does not change my current situation: I am in a January blues and I am waiting for things to happen. I guess I need to learn to appreciate inaction. There will be something exciting starting next month, until then I can always make things happen. I once blogged about it. I am tempted to say that boredom is not an excuse, but it is difficult (read: impossible) to go on a trip just yet. I will have to appreciate the waiting time before the exciting days.

Les jupes ecclésiastiques et juridiques

J'ai lu récemment un texte de mon héroïne québécoise Marie-Michelle Poisson, un texte troublant sur la Messe rouge, cérémonie que je ne connaissais pas. On lit ça et on croit que ça se passe durant la Grande Noirceur, avec les jupes ecclésiastiques et juridiques qui se rencontrent dans une petite célébration qui a tout d'un rapport aussi anachronique qu'incestueux. J'ai déjà déploré qu'un juge québécois prenait la suprématie de Dieu bien au sérieux. Maintenant, j'ai peur qu'il ait des confrères qui partagent ses idées. Ca me désespère et me fait sérieusement douter de l'intelligence des gens de loi.

The empty hours of January

Is it only me or isn't January a deadly boring month? I have been feeling tired every day of the week except the weekends (and even then) since it started, the weather is a mish mash of rain and not cold or warm enough temperature, everyday life is desperately uneventful and the nearest thing I am looking forward to will start in February! I wonder if I can survive that long the boredom of January, that longing pain that does not hurt enough. (And for the people who know about literature, I stole "the pain that does not hurt enough" from a famous play. Try to find which one without looking at my Shelfari on the right.)

I have not survived the social jet lag yet and I wonder if I will, I feel condemned to live with it. Of course, and more importantly, I feel utterly uninspired. I hate that feeling. Hopefully it will pass. Blogging is an activity that I enjoy a lot, no matter what time of the year and it is one of the few where I can be creative no matter what my particular circumstances are. I prefer to have little time to blog yet plenty of material for it, than plenty of time but nothing to blog about. A shame, as I had started this year so well.

I guess it is just temporary and I will find inspiration. This post is already quite long, after all. I might also try to resurrect this old idea of calling a muse every time I blog. But right now, I feel like all I am doing is passing through the empty hours of January.

Question existentielle (31)

Ceci est la première question existentielle de l'année. Elle n'est pas très inspirée, mais c'est un peu à cause du mois:

-Que faire en janvier?

Et en passant, personne n'a encore répondu aux deux dernières questions. Quoique maintenant c'est peut-être un peu tard...

Dinnertime conversations

So I went to that dinner yesterday, in an Italian restaurant, with my friends from the acting course. Not all were there, but it was a very nice evening. We barely had time to know each other before and after class, so it was lovely chatting to them and learning more about everyone. And also, of course, making yourself known.

As I was expecting, the staff was mainly Italian, so I did said a few words in Italian, enough to make them believe that I knew much more of the language than I do. So they learned about my Italian experience, they learned about the reasons why I wanted to do acting (which is actually similar to theirs, more on this below) and they even learned that I sang opera. Because, see, the next course will be very voice orientated and it appears that there might be some singing in it. One of them was hesitant about this as he thinks he is not much of a singer and he asked me "Could you sing?". I answered not only that I could, but that I did. It will be great to mix two of my greatest passions.

So it was a great evening. It is strange to discover that your own motivations mirror the ones of my fellow actors. We all wanted a more active social life with people sharing the same interests, we all wanted to express our creativity and many of us wanted to confront some kind of shyness. Oh, and we all feel reinvigorated after a class.

Getting back to singing, I thought I would end this post with an aria. It is one of the few Mozart arias I sang learning with Claudine Côté. It is Non piu andrai from Le Nozze di Figaro. I chose it because I always thought it was a physically demanding aria, that used to leave me breathless and dizzy.There is a physicality in opera just as there is one in acting. I will blog about it one day (if I haven't already and forgotten). Until then, I leave this aria here, as my mind is on Italy, acting and singing.

C'est vert en janvier

Depuis plus d'une semaine il n'y a plus un brin de neige et c'est vert partout, même s'il ne fait pas chaud dehors. Je ne me ferai jamais à cet aspect de l'hiver anglais. Je dis vert, mais ce n'est pas tout à fait vrai: les arbres sont pour la plupart entièrement nus. Mais il y a quand même beaucoup de verdure.

An Italian mind

I am going to an Italian restaurant with my acting friends (well, acquaintance really) in a few minutes. I think it might be an authentic Italian restaurant too, with genuine, proper Italian recipes and an Italian staff. If I ever see my Italian friends in this country, I might go there and they can judge for themselves if my impression was right. Anyway, if they have some Italians in the staff, it means that I might embarrass myself and speak the little Italian I know, which I do sometimes, even when I am sober. My mind is very Italian tonight. It happens from time to time, especially when I listen to operas in Italian like I did today (this duet to be precise).

Attendre les grands jours

Maintenant que les vacances de Noël sont terminées et que je suis de retour au travail, on aurait pu croire que la monotonie quotidienne aurait repris ses droits. C'est ce qui arrive d'habitude en janvier, l'un de ces mois que je trouve particulièrement monotone: j'attends les grands jours, c'est à dire les prochaines vacances ou le prochain congé férié ou le prochain whatever. Cette année, j'attends mes prochains cours de théâtre, qui commenceront début février. Cela dit, je me rends compte que janvier est déjà moins monotone que d'habitude. Tout d'abord, je vais aller souper ce soir avec mes camarades de classe de théâtre. Je pensais que le théâtre me donnerait une vie sociale, j'en suis maintenant persuadé. Hier, ma femme et moi sommes allés manger dans un pub de la nourriture thai, une expérience étrange en soi (bière anglaise et repas oriental), mais fort agréable. Je vais essayer de modérer mon train de vie (pour ne pas trop dépenser surtout), mais je crois que l'année qui vient sera plus intéressante que l'année passée.

Many epiphanies

It is the Epiphany today and I thought at first that I would put here another Nativity Scene picture (I had one ready, a pic I took back in 2009), but I thought I had seen enough of Christmas pics for the time being. It is January and I want the blog to change colour and mood a bit. So I am going to blog about the feeling of epiphany. I blogged about it before, but in one's life there are many moments of epiphany. A major epiphany for me was discovering Anthony Burgess. But there were others. I can think of a few, at the top of my head:

-When I discovered that I loved opera, listening to Carmen as a child.
-When I discovered Don Giovanni.
-Years later, when I started learning opera.
-When I discovered that I did not believe in God anymore. It was a gradual process, but there were many little moments of epiphany in it. I might blog about it one day.
-When I discovered that I could actually act and learn lines. I still know very little about acting, I am not grasping 1% of the complexities of the art, but knowing that I could be someone else and know the lines as they came naturally to me was a huge revelation. It was like unclogging a part of my mind.
-There was also a more dramatic and unpleasant moment of epiphany, collective this time, when 9/11 happened.

Writing about those, I wonder if I will live an epiphany this year.

Ce blogue et les algorithmes

Et moi qui croyais que j'avais droit à mon heure de gloire sur Google... En commentant sur ce billet, mon frère m'a servi une douche froide. Je le cite:

"Ça ne marche pas de ce côté-ci de l'Atlantique. Les algorithmes de Google sont de plus en plus définis par l'emplacement géographique de l'IP. Donc, ce billet est plus visible de la France que du Québec."

"Je lis pas assez" ne réfère donc pas à mon blogue du Québec. Me voilà donc trahi par Google... Et j'espérais québéciser ce blogue, je me rends compte qu'il se fait lire sans doute plus de la France. Du moins il a plus de potentiel de ce côté-ci de l'Atlantique, tout ça à cause des algorithmes de Google.

Suffering from social jet lag?

I put this picture here pretty gratuitously, as it is not about travelling, or proper jet lag. I just decided to put it here because I thought it sort o fitted the topic. I should be jet lagged as had I travelled during the holidays I would have been back yesterday.

So today was my first day at work and I felt pretty awful, pretty much as if I had spent the last days travelling. I hadn't slept much the night before and felt sleepy and slow all day. I learned yesterday about the notion of social jet lag. I am wondering if I am not suffering from it, having been on holidays for two weeks, thus renewing with bad old habits of sleeping late. I have never been much of a nine to five kinda guy until relatively recently, in fact I rarely had nine to five jobs in the past, and rarely for prolonged periods of time like now. I will have to get used to it again. Still, I can't help but think that my ideal job would be something where I could go to bed late and sleep as much as I want. Probably something where I could work in the comfort of my home most of the time. An actor, an academic, a writer (there I said it), but probably not an opera singer (for obvious reasons). I can show a lot of commitment to my work, any work I do, but I lack the diurnal discipline of early birds. I am also a bit of an anti social from time to time, and loneliness is more enjoyable at night time. But until I get that dream job, I better get some sleep.

Ce blogue sur Google

J'ai appris récemment en regardant qui visitait ce blogue que si l'on tape "Je lis pas assez" sur Google.fr, la première page sur laquelle on tombe est ce billet. Cela dit, ça ne fonctionne pas si on rajoute le "ne". Mais c'est étrange de penser que le monde francophone tombe sur ce blogue à cause de quatre mots. Je savoure cette petite minute de gloire blogosphérique.

Shades, colours, music

It is the end of the Christmas holidays (well, officially it should be Epiphany, but by nay practical means it will be over), which always gives me a bit of a blues, no matter how exciting the new year might be. I just feel melancholia. Now the Christmas decorations seem already out of place.

So do the recent pictures on this blog. A blog's appearance, its tone changes with the seasons. I once blogged about it, I hope my readership will not find me too repetitive if I do it again. So soon I will abandon completely Christmas topics, will post something else than Christmas pictures (although I will probably and hopefully post winter ones) and of course will put something else than Christmas carols for my readers to listen to (I have already started). I wonder what January will bring in terms of inspiration. There is not much to celebrate for a while, but everyday life brings its share of interesting topics. Thinking about it, I already feel the melancholia a bit less.

Le blues d'après Noël

Demain je retourne au travail. C'est dans l'ordre des choses, mais je ne peux pas m'empêcher de penser que les vacances ont été trop courtes. Un peu parce qu'on a été forcés de rester ici mais pas seulement. Il fut un temps où les Fêtes se terminaient avec l'Épiphanie. Plus maintenant, enfin pas depuis mes années à l'université (au moins). Dans tous les cas, même si le Temps des Fêtes doit prendre fin, je ne peux pas m'empêcher d'avoir un peu les bleus. Ce qui m'arrive souvent en janvier. Au moins j'ai hâte à bien des choses en 2011. Cela dit, d'ici là j'ai quand même les bleus.

Looking at the calendar

I had a look today at the 2010 calendar we took off. I will try to avoid writing clichés about changing calendars, but anyway I had a look at it, the reminders I put there, the interviews I went to and what we had planned to do. It is funny how much changed within a year and reassuring to see how much I progressed. I don't have dead end, thankless jobs in schools anymore, I don't feel frustrated going to and back from work every day. If my job is sometimes frustrating, at least I don't feel undervalued. Not as often and as much anyway. I don't feel too bad about not having a teaching career anymore, as I never felt that I had much of one, not in the last two years anyway. I am surprised about how comfortably I settled in the private sector (and at the right time too). I was a bit anxious about it when I started, but it turned out okay. 

Of course, at the end of the year I took the chance to be creative again and be an aspiring artist again. With the acting classes, I feel that my life is more rewarding. At about the same time last year, I had received my permanent visa, which was really good news, but in so many aspects of my life I was feeling in Purgatory, if not Hell, that I did not appreciate it fully. I know the future is incertain, it always is and it should be. Nevertheless, I am in a better place, at least in a happier one. I am moving on and maybe even moving up.

Dans un grand Boeing bleu de mer...

"Je reviendrai à Montréal dans un grand Boeing bleu de mer"...comme le dit la chanson (même si ce n'est pas toujours un Boeing que je prends et qu'il n'est pas souvent bleu de mer), que je ne mettrai pas une fois de plus sur mon blogue, mais que les lecteurs peuvent trouver ici. J'écoutais ça en boucle en décembre, jusqu'à ce que la neige décide de nous rattraper ici et vienne foutre le bordel dans mes plans de retour au pays. Je me suis promis de revenir à Montréal pour un hiver, mais sans doute pas celui-là. Je vais essayer de m'y faire.

Enfin, bien que la chanson me donne des frissons et me fait communier avec ma nordicité (oui, j'assume l'hiver québécois d'autant plus qu'il me manque), je tiens quand même à dire que Robert Charlebois en tant que personne me tape prodigieusement sur les nerfs, notamment parce qu'il se comporte trop souvent comme une caricature. Je pourrais lui pardonner cela, après tout ça fait partie du personnage, cela dit il endosse aussi les caricatures pseudo-québécoises, ce qui est cent fois pire. Cela dit, je m'ennuie de nos hivers.

What resolutions this year?

We are now in 2011 and that means: 1)the Christmas holidays are ending soon (in a way they have already ended) and 2)it is time to muse about the past and think about the future. I don't want to muse about the past, I have done quite a lot of this recently. I thought about making resolutions, but I am not sure where to begin with. I made some two years ago, which I only managed to really fulfill this year. At last, I got a permanent and decent job, I do have more of a social life, I have even done some acting for the first time in years and since I will do more, I cannot really put this on my list. At least it means that I have accomplished more in 2010 and that I can look forward to 2011 with more optimism. So maybe I should say that I have "projects" more than resolutions. This year, I therefore hope to:

1)Do more acting.
2)Maybe renew with singing opera.
3)Read more classics. I think I was not so good in 2010 than in 2009.
4)Trust my instincts and take more initiatives. I did acting this year and it did the greatest good to me. I want to do more of this, whether it is about hobbies or travelling or whatever.

Well, the list is considerably shorter and maybe this is a good thing. It means I am on the right track. At last.

1er janvier, puisqu'il le faut

C'est mon premier billet de l'année 2011, il faut bien en écrire un. Je fête en général assez peu  le Jour de l'An. Je trouve que c'est un peu le dernier jour des Fêtes et qu'en fait elles sont déjà un peu beaucoup terminées le premier janvier. Je regarde le sapin et je trouve qu'il n'a plus sa place dans le salon. Le mois de janvier est donc synonyme de blues pour moi.

Durant mon enfance et jusqu'à l'âge adulte, nous allions déjeuner à chaque premier janvier. Nous y allions à pied de chez nous, même s'il faisait souvent un froid de canards. Ce serait peut-être une tradition à reprendre, parce que le Jour de l'An m'ennuie profondément et qu'un gros déjeuner bien consistant (oeufs, bacon, saucisses, toasts au beurre d'arachide) ça commencerait l'année du bon pied.