Hey, I just discovered it this evening: Springwatch was on! I catched it just in time. I cannot believe I didn't know, although it is a bit late in the year to have a "Spring" watch. It is true that I am not as big a fan of Springwatch as I am of Autumnwatch, but it is still lovely to see British wildlife. There are the usual stars of the show: beavers (they have been reintroduced in Britain), foxes (among my favourite), barn owls (another favourite of mine), various small rodents, birds and badgers. For me, a badger is mainly the name of a character in this British classic and this weird song. I saw a dead one by the road last Sunday, going back home. I felt a bit sad. Badgers, like all animals, are fascinating creatures. I will learn more about them with the program.I don't think I can love them as much as foxes or owls, but they will be my wildlife discovery of the year.
This picture was taken in the Keswick Museum. Any excuse is good enough to put pictures from Keswick here, but there is another reason for putting it here: as badgers are elusive, it was easier to take a picture of a dead stuffed one than a live one.
Tuesday 31 May 2011
Springwatch is on
Labels:
Autumnwatch,
badger,
blaireau,
chouette,
fox,
hibou,
Keswick,
Keswick Museum,
owl,
Printemps,
renard,
saisons,
seasons,
Spring,
Springwatch,
taxidermie,
taxidermy
Question existentielle (50)
Juin commence demain et il commence à nouveau à faire chaud. Ce qui m'amène à me poser une question existentielle semblable à la question 18:
-Selon vous, quand est-ce que l'été commence vraiment?
-Selon vous, quand est-ce que l'été commence vraiment?
Labels:
été,
existential question,
Juin,
June,
question existentielle,
saisons,
seasons,
Summer
Monday 30 May 2011
A dreadful great unknown written line
I am not the father of another great unknown line, which I think is quite funny (if I may say so myself). Halloween Spirit blogged today about a zombie cake she made. She should be proud of it, the cake actually looks like a rotting undead head. My comment has not been published on it yet, so I publish it here in exclusivity:
"I hope it tastes better than it looks."
For those of you like who thinks that it is a long way until Halloween, this is my modest contribution to keep the spirit of the holiday alive. Oh, and I dreamt of a sinister l'Ankou looking character recently (don't flicker through your scary books before going to bed). If I have the discipline, I might try to put him in a horror story.
"I hope it tastes better than it looks."
For those of you like who thinks that it is a long way until Halloween, this is my modest contribution to keep the spirit of the holiday alive. Oh, and I dreamt of a sinister l'Ankou looking character recently (don't flicker through your scary books before going to bed). If I have the discipline, I might try to put him in a horror story.
Un couple princier en visite au Québec?
Je viens de lire cette nouvelle. Kate et William seront en visite au Québec et à nos frais en plus. Était-ce vraiment nécessaire? Bon, maintenant je sais quand je ne vais pas rentrer au Québec. Il n'y a rien que j'exècre autant qu'un membre de la monarchie qui vient visiter les colonies, surtout quand la colonie en question, c'est mon pays. Bien sûr, certains radicaux vont sans doute faire du grabuge. Je doute qu'ils réussissent à enthousiasmer la foule. On n'est plus dans les années soixane, après tout. Un silence froid serait quant à moi préférable de toute façon qu'à une bordée d'oeufs et de tomates. Cela dit, il n'y a rien de particulièrement radical à protester contre les représentants de la monarchie, comme les Anglais eux-mêmes l'ont prouvé il n'y a pas si longtemps. Il faut dire que le prince Charles et Camilla sont moins séduisants que William et Kate, alors ils attirent moins la sympathie. Tout de même, j'aimerais bien qu'il soit attendu avec une brique et un fanal, le couple princier.
Labels:
Kate Middleton,
monarchie,
monarchy,
Prince William,
Québec
Tea, cake, scones and Mozart
Well, blogging certainly has its benefits, like my wife and I had the pleasure to discover recently: because we were passing by where Mozart's Girl lives we stopped there for tea. I ate among the best scones I had in life, drank lots of tea, with Mozart in the background. You cannot be better received than this and it is pretty much my idea of a great Sunday afternoon.
Since the cake was not ready when we arrived she was generous enough to give it to us. I hope she does not mind that I put the picture here. She was embarrassed by its appearance, I still haven't figured out why. Probably because she never saw any of mine. Artists are perfectionist with their work. I thought the frosting on the top was such a nice touch.
It was strange to meet for the first time in the flesh people whom I have known online for quite a while now. The idea of an online community takes its full meaning. We spend months, sometimes years in their company. Meeting them enhances the experience. It is the icing on the cake, so to speak. I cannot thank her enough for her hospitality, so this post is the least I can do to show my gratitude.
Since the cake was not ready when we arrived she was generous enough to give it to us. I hope she does not mind that I put the picture here. She was embarrassed by its appearance, I still haven't figured out why. Probably because she never saw any of mine. Artists are perfectionist with their work. I thought the frosting on the top was such a nice touch.
It was strange to meet for the first time in the flesh people whom I have known online for quite a while now. The idea of an online community takes its full meaning. We spend months, sometimes years in their company. Meeting them enhances the experience. It is the icing on the cake, so to speak. I cannot thank her enough for her hospitality, so this post is the least I can do to show my gratitude.
Grasse matinée involontaire
Tard couché, (beaucoup trop) tard levé. Parce que j'a commis l'erreur de manger du gâteau avec du thé (on n'avait plus de lait) hier soir j'ai eu droit à ma pire attaque d'insomnie depuis des mois. J'ai réussi à m'endormir aux petites heures du matin, ce qui fait que je me suis réveillé très tard aujourd'hui (il y a environ trente minutes, ou un peu plus). Je suis chanceux d'être en congé aujourd'hui, sans ça je serais un zombie au travail. Cela dit, j'ai perdu une grande partie de mon lundi de congé. Hé, misère...
Saturday 28 May 2011
May Fayre
There was a fayre today in the local park. We usually go there for a bit. I enjoy fayres quite a lot (although they can get boring). My favourite is Nuit Blanche sur Tableau Noir on the Plateau Mont-Royal, which I haven't been to in years. At the local May Fayre I am fairly predictable: I have lunch there, usually burgers, I have a pint of real ale (or more), I buy keyrings and other stuff from the Cats Protection Society (I did again this year, two keyrings as they don't last long and one bookmark), I try to encourage local businesses and I avoid like the plague Christian stands (I prefer to save cats than souls).
So that is pretty much what I did this year. I also bought some cream fudge, not from the stand of our local sweet shop but from another one, owned by a sweet old man who travels around towns to sell his products. He does not even have a shop. He also had the weirdest fudge mix, with rhubarb in it. It was still delicious and so unique I had to buy some. I love rhubarb, but that is for another post. It was a strange May fayre as it did not look like May at all: the weather was cloudy and quite cool for a month of May. In a way it was fitting that I had burgers, dark beer (an IPA that was not very pale) and fudge. Still, I miss Nuit Blanche sur un Tableau Noir a lot. There was something Bohemian about it that I could never find in other fayres.
So that is pretty much what I did this year. I also bought some cream fudge, not from the stand of our local sweet shop but from another one, owned by a sweet old man who travels around towns to sell his products. He does not even have a shop. He also had the weirdest fudge mix, with rhubarb in it. It was still delicious and so unique I had to buy some. I love rhubarb, but that is for another post. It was a strange May fayre as it did not look like May at all: the weather was cloudy and quite cool for a month of May. In a way it was fitting that I had burgers, dark beer (an IPA that was not very pale) and fudge. Still, I miss Nuit Blanche sur un Tableau Noir a lot. There was something Bohemian about it that I could never find in other fayres.
Marcher dans les pas de l'histoire criminelle montréalaise
Mon lectorat sait que je me fascine pour l'histoire criminelle en général et pour l'histoire criminelle montréalaise en particulier. Je suis en train de lire Mafia Inc d'André Cédilot et André Noël. J'en suis encore au début du bouquin, au chapitre deux en fait. Or, dès le début du chapitre je lis ceci avec étonnement:
"Le New Miss Mont-Royal était un restaurant sans prétention. (...) Situé au 707 de l'avenue du Mont-Royal Est, en face de l'église Notre-Dame-du-Très-Saint-Sacrement, il fut remplacé avec le temps par une boutique de livres et de disques d'occasion. À l'époque, il desservait la clientèle d'un quartier populaire qui n'avait pas encore été transformé par l'arrivée massive d'artistes et de jeunes professionnels."
Cette boutique de livres usagés, c'est bien entendu L'Échange, où je me suis arrêté des centaines de milliers de fois sans savoir qu'il avait été le lieu d'un meurtre particulièrement violent lié au crime organisé. J'ai l'impression de lire un roman historique en même temps qu'un roman policier. Mais en plus, je vois la proximité de cette histoire criminelle avec mon passé de Montréalais. L'Échange sera maintenant un lieu de pèlerinage. Je ne crois pas que ce soit immoral: les touristes ici vont bien dans Whitechapel sur les traces de Jack l'Éventreur. La prochaine fois que je vais à L'Échange, j'y achète un roman policier.
"Le New Miss Mont-Royal était un restaurant sans prétention. (...) Situé au 707 de l'avenue du Mont-Royal Est, en face de l'église Notre-Dame-du-Très-Saint-Sacrement, il fut remplacé avec le temps par une boutique de livres et de disques d'occasion. À l'époque, il desservait la clientèle d'un quartier populaire qui n'avait pas encore été transformé par l'arrivée massive d'artistes et de jeunes professionnels."
Cette boutique de livres usagés, c'est bien entendu L'Échange, où je me suis arrêté des centaines de milliers de fois sans savoir qu'il avait été le lieu d'un meurtre particulièrement violent lié au crime organisé. J'ai l'impression de lire un roman historique en même temps qu'un roman policier. Mais en plus, je vois la proximité de cette histoire criminelle avec mon passé de Montréalais. L'Échange sera maintenant un lieu de pèlerinage. Je ne crois pas que ce soit immoral: les touristes ici vont bien dans Whitechapel sur les traces de Jack l'Éventreur. La prochaine fois que je vais à L'Échange, j'y achète un roman policier.
Friday 27 May 2011
How small is Europe
In the commute in the train today, I saw at random one of my fellow thespians who did the two acting courses with me. (An observation that struck me: it appears that I often find actors on the train.) She was getting to work, but since we have a long weekend because of a Bank Holiday, she was planning to take the ferry to Belgium this very afternoon. So from her home, to her work, by train to whichever port the ferry was leaving and from there to Belgium. And I learned tonight that my blogging friend Cynthia is going to Brussells too, from Paris.
And then it simply struck me tonight: Europe is a small continent, where you can change countries and cultures in a few hours, without having to deal with jetlag. We are at the doorstep of so many different places. I don't do that much about it, not during bank holidays anyway. Maybe it is because I am a North American, coming from a place that could contain five times France. You travel six hours in a car and you are still in Québec. Plenty of space, but comparatively little diversity on it. Just in the UK, you have four different countries. In Belgium, you have two different cultures, Wallons and Flamands. I am not talking about immigration here, simply about all those different nations living so close to each others. So close, yet so foreign to each others. Maybe that's why I stick to England for short trips: I still find it exotic.
And then it simply struck me tonight: Europe is a small continent, where you can change countries and cultures in a few hours, without having to deal with jetlag. We are at the doorstep of so many different places. I don't do that much about it, not during bank holidays anyway. Maybe it is because I am a North American, coming from a place that could contain five times France. You travel six hours in a car and you are still in Québec. Plenty of space, but comparatively little diversity on it. Just in the UK, you have four different countries. In Belgium, you have two different cultures, Wallons and Flamands. I am not talking about immigration here, simply about all those different nations living so close to each others. So close, yet so foreign to each others. Maybe that's why I stick to England for short trips: I still find it exotic.
Labels:
Angleterre,
bank holiday,
Belgique,
Belgium,
Bruxelles,
England,
ferry,
France,
Paris,
train,
traversier
Bruxelles de Jacques Brel
Aujourd'hui j'ai rencontré une de mes amies (enfin, connaissance) qui m'a dit qu'elle allait à Bruxelles pour la fin de semaine de trois jours. Or j'apprends aujourd'hui que Cynthia de Sur un Boeing Bleu de Mer s'en va également à Bruxelles demain. Étrange coincidence, je songeais à mettre du Jacques Brel sur ce blogue. Le hasard, ou le destin, me force donc la main.
J'ai visité la Belgique une fois, dont Bruxelles. J'en ai gardé un souvenir assez vague, à part les frites et les moules. Je n'ai vraiment découvert la Belgique qu'avec Jacques Brel. Bruxelles n'est pas ma chanson préférée de son répertoire, mais comme elle parle de la ville, je vais la mettre ici. Je connais la ville plus par cette chanson que par ma propre expérience.
J'ai visité la Belgique une fois, dont Bruxelles. J'en ai gardé un souvenir assez vague, à part les frites et les moules. Je n'ai vraiment découvert la Belgique qu'avec Jacques Brel. Bruxelles n'est pas ma chanson préférée de son répertoire, mais comme elle parle de la ville, je vais la mettre ici. Je connais la ville plus par cette chanson que par ma propre expérience.
Labels:
Belgique,
Belgium,
Bruxelles,
chanson,
Jacques Brel,
song,
Sur un Boeing Bleu de Mer
Thursday 26 May 2011
Rain and thunder
After the wind came the storm. It was raining a lot today. Last night I was woken up by thunder, today it poured. Luckily enough, I was inside the whole time it rained, so I remained dry. When I walked home, there was big ponds of water and it smelled wet. I love heavy rains like this one, as long as I don't get caught in it (although even then I could appreciate it if it is not too cold. But I feel like I could not appreciate fully, as I was working. Yes, I blogged about this before. And before. We are going to have a three days weekend soon. I kind of hope that at least one day will be rainy. Not a monotonous rain but a big, violent, dramatic, atmospheric rain like I love, so I can enjoy it completely.
Labels:
Orage,
orage storm,
pluie,
rain,
storm,
température,
Weather
Cette fin de semaine de trois jours qui s'en vient
On va avoir droit à une fin de trois jours cette semaine, parce qu'on a une "bank holiday" pour une raison ou une autre. Je m'en était à peine rendu compte, en fait je l'ai su cette semaine. Je ne suis pas vraiment au fait des jours fériés anglais, en fait j'y suis carrément étranger. On n'a rien planifié, je crois que ce sera une fin de semaine tranquille. Je l'espère en fait: j'ai besoin de souffler un peu.
Labels:
Angleterre,
bank holiday,
England,
fin de semaine,
holidays,
vacances,
weekend
Wednesday 25 May 2011
Blog and readership (and opera)
I was happily surprised today to discover that a high schooler (from Illinois according to Sitemeter), commented on an old post of mine, Sexy opera, which I was very proud of but sadly got unnoticed and was forgotten... until today. For some reason it made me feel quite happy. The high schooler found this blog by Googling "sexiest opera voice". Interesting. I am glad that I am not the only one in this world who thinks that opera is a sexy art, not only made of fat sopranos screeching and obese tenors digesting their pasta (yes, that was from the early blog). I am even happier to know that it is a kid loving opera.
So my blog is growing in readership, still I haven't beefed up the blogroll yet. I have not been an official followers of all the blogs on it either. I feel guilty about it. I feel even more guilty about not aswering all my comments, even by a sample thank you. So I am saying it now until I give it the proper attention it needs: thank you all for stopping by and commenting.
So my blog is growing in readership, still I haven't beefed up the blogroll yet. I have not been an official followers of all the blogs on it either. I feel guilty about it. I feel even more guilty about not aswering all my comments, even by a sample thank you. So I am saying it now until I give it the proper attention it needs: thank you all for stopping by and commenting.
Un cheval et une calèche
Étrange spectacle en revenant chez moi ce soir après une journée de travail: dans la rue étroite menant à la gare, une de ces rues de villes anglaises tellement serrées que deux voitures ne peuvent pas passer en sens inverse en même temps, un il y avait un cheval tirant une calèche, avec un touriste (enfin je crois) dedans. Une calèche à cheval, ici? J'en ai vu ailleurs bien sûr, mais dans des villes où les touristes et les attractions touristiques abondaient et où les rues étaient assez larges pour ce genre d'activité.J'ai aussi vu bien des chevaux (et des vaches, et des moutons) dans les champs aux alentours (voir la photo à gauche), on dirait en fait qu'à chaque endroit où on peut avoir un peu de verdure les Anglais aiment y mettre un enclos avec des animaux de ferme, mais dans la ville c'est la première fois.
L'image m'a donc comme un peu frappé. Je crois que les conducteurs étaient plus surpris que moi et n'appréciaient guère. Mais les rues ici sont sans doute plus adaptée aux calèches qu'aux voitures. C'est donc un peu un retour naturel des choses, peu importe la raison pour laquelle il y a des calèches ici.
L'image m'a donc comme un peu frappé. Je crois que les conducteurs étaient plus surpris que moi et n'appréciaient guère. Mais les rues ici sont sans doute plus adaptée aux calèches qu'aux voitures. C'est donc un peu un retour naturel des choses, peu importe la raison pour laquelle il y a des calèches ici.
Tuesday 24 May 2011
A Pint of Guinness and an Epiphany
Two bits of news, seemingly unimportant, gave me an epiphany recently. Fittingly enough, those pieces of news and the epiphany concerned Ireland. I say fittingly enough, because James Joyce developed the concept of secular epiphany.
The first piece of news is about Queen Elizabeth, who in her historical trip to Ireland refused a pint of Guinness. I was not shocked, I was not outraged, I was disgusted. What, is she in the A.A. or something? I mean what a petty snob! You don't refuse to drink Guinness when you are offered some! You just don't. At least have a sip dammit! The second piece of news is about president Obama, who in his visit to Ireland downed the lovely beverage. The president had earned my respect and admiration before, but that is just a nice icing on the cake. I don't know how much Irish blood he really has, but he certainly has Irisi spirit (and completely deserves this song). It was a trivial matter, but he did what he had to do.
I say trivial, but maybe not so much. The Queen refusing to even wet her beak with a Guinness was not only rude, it was showing a lack of understanding or sensibility. Guinness is pretty much the Irish national drink. Obama got it right, instinctively. I think it has something to do, a bit, with the fact that he was born and grew up in a republic. Of course, the Queen is absolutely foreign to this. I think she might even be foreign to her own subjects, but that is a topic for another post. No matter how many speeches she can make, how many visits she can give, in the end, she does not belong to this world of commoners, where you earn your place with hard work, intelligence, creativity, merit. Refusing to drink this Guinness, she was out of place and out of touch.
The first piece of news is about Queen Elizabeth, who in her historical trip to Ireland refused a pint of Guinness. I was not shocked, I was not outraged, I was disgusted. What, is she in the A.A. or something? I mean what a petty snob! You don't refuse to drink Guinness when you are offered some! You just don't. At least have a sip dammit! The second piece of news is about president Obama, who in his visit to Ireland downed the lovely beverage. The president had earned my respect and admiration before, but that is just a nice icing on the cake. I don't know how much Irish blood he really has, but he certainly has Irisi spirit (and completely deserves this song). It was a trivial matter, but he did what he had to do.
I say trivial, but maybe not so much. The Queen refusing to even wet her beak with a Guinness was not only rude, it was showing a lack of understanding or sensibility. Guinness is pretty much the Irish national drink. Obama got it right, instinctively. I think it has something to do, a bit, with the fact that he was born and grew up in a republic. Of course, the Queen is absolutely foreign to this. I think she might even be foreign to her own subjects, but that is a topic for another post. No matter how many speeches she can make, how many visits she can give, in the end, she does not belong to this world of commoners, where you earn your place with hard work, intelligence, creativity, merit. Refusing to drink this Guinness, she was out of place and out of touch.
Un volcan et un certain air de déjà vu
Je lis les nouvelles aujourd'hui, et je ne peux pas m'empêcher de penser à l'année dernière. À peine plus d'un an plus tard et un autre volcan islandais se met à faire des siennes. Ce sont grosso modo les mêmes nouvelles, les mêmes images, les mêmes chambardements... Mais ça n'arrive pas à moi. Pour faire changement, ce malheur-là arrive à d'autres voyageurs. Encore heureux que je n'aie pas pas choisi de prendre des vacances en mai!
Quand même, quand j'étais enfant, mes frères et moi (surtout PJ) étions fascinés par les volcans. Comme par pleins d'autres trucs, mais les volcans ont fait l'objet d'une attention particulière. Ils étaient les lieux terrifiants de bien des jeux enfantins. Maintenant, ils font annuler les vols. Il n'y a pas à dire, ça les rend déjà plus banals.
Quand même, quand j'étais enfant, mes frères et moi (surtout PJ) étions fascinés par les volcans. Comme par pleins d'autres trucs, mais les volcans ont fait l'objet d'une attention particulière. Ils étaient les lieux terrifiants de bien des jeux enfantins. Maintenant, ils font annuler les vols. Il n'y a pas à dire, ça les rend déjà plus banals.
Monday 23 May 2011
Windy days
This is a picture from the inside of the Temple of Aeolus in Kew Gardens. I decided to put it here because it fits the topic of this post and because, well, it is a beautiful monument that fascinates me. Like I said in this post, the temple is visited by the elements. Which is kind of neat.
So yesterday and today were very windy days. Yesterday was sunny and windy and quite nice. Not very warm but not cold either, it was just a nice windy day, good enough to fly a kite. Then today it was mostly cloudy and miserable and the wind was much colder. It didn't feel right as I was not wearing warm enough clothes. I was not exactly freezing and I spent all day inside anyway, but when I was out it was not comfortable.
I love windy days, either hearing the wind from inside, or walking out dressed appropriately (like I did yesterday). In this strange month of May that sometimes almost looks like autumn, I would love to spend more time walking in it.
So yesterday and today were very windy days. Yesterday was sunny and windy and quite nice. Not very warm but not cold either, it was just a nice windy day, good enough to fly a kite. Then today it was mostly cloudy and miserable and the wind was much colder. It didn't feel right as I was not wearing warm enough clothes. I was not exactly freezing and I spent all day inside anyway, but when I was out it was not comfortable.
I love windy days, either hearing the wind from inside, or walking out dressed appropriately (like I did yesterday). In this strange month of May that sometimes almost looks like autumn, I would love to spend more time walking in it.
Labels:
cerf-volant,
dimanche,
Greek mythology,
Kew Gardens,
kite,
lundi,
monday,
mythologie grecque,
Sunday,
vent,
wind
Un air sérieux et un nom espagnol
Une collègue hispanophone m'a dit aujourd'hui alors que je retournais de la pause du midi (que j'avais écourtée à cause de la pile de travail à faire) que j'avais donc l'air sérieux. Bien sûr que j'avais l'air sérieux: une pile de travail à faire, c'est lundi, il pleut, il vente, j'ai une pile de travail à faire, ai-je dit que j'avais beaucoup de travail? Cela dit, je ne crois pas que ça ait rendu ma journée plus facile d'avoir l'air sérieux. Alors je vais tenter de faire comme elle m'a conseillé et de sourire. Mais je déteste avoir le sourire forcé, ils ne sont pas naturels et ils ne rendent pas plus serein.
Autre anecdote: elle m'a appelé Guillermo, qui est bien sûr mon nom en espagnol. Mes amis italiens m'appelaient parfois Guglielmo, j'ai entendu plus rarement quelqu'un m'appeler par un autre variante. Je ne sais pas pourquoi, mais cette anecdote a fait ma journée. Peut-être parce que ma mère m'appelait parfois Guillermo quand j'étais enfant, allez savoir pourquoi. Peut-être parce que, comme l'a commenté un ami sur ce billet, ça démontre une fois de plus que je suis un genre de Zelig. Ca n'a quand même pas amené l'Espagne ici...
Autre anecdote: elle m'a appelé Guillermo, qui est bien sûr mon nom en espagnol. Mes amis italiens m'appelaient parfois Guglielmo, j'ai entendu plus rarement quelqu'un m'appeler par un autre variante. Je ne sais pas pourquoi, mais cette anecdote a fait ma journée. Peut-être parce que ma mère m'appelait parfois Guillermo quand j'étais enfant, allez savoir pourquoi. Peut-être parce que, comme l'a commenté un ami sur ce billet, ça démontre une fois de plus que je suis un genre de Zelig. Ca n'a quand même pas amené l'Espagne ici...
Sunday 22 May 2011
Where to write
Maybe it is because Leigh Russell will be hosting a creative writing workshop in the South of France and because Mozart's Girl blogged about Beatrix Potter and the Lake District, anyway I thought quite a lot about writing places. I mean you write in a setting, a place where you can get your mind focused on the task ahead and which hopefully gives you inspiration, whether it is to blog like I do or to write a novel or whatever. J.K. Rowling started writing Harry Potter in a train, which is a lovely place to read when the journey is long, but I never thought it was the ideal place to write. She used to write in cafés too, which again I find a lovely place to read, but too public to write. During my years as an undergraduate, some cafés in Montreal were simply overcrowded with aspiring poets and writers. I wonder if they published anything.
I always dreamed of having an attic room to work in. This would be for me the best place to write. It is usually quiet, you feel closer to the elements, far away from the busy rooms of the house, it just fits writing. And you can always look out the window when you cannot find inspiration. I sorely lack an office in an attic room in this attic flat. I guess the basement could work well for writing. A garden too, if it is quiet enough and if the weather is nice.
Now if we widen the focus and thinkof writing environment, the ideal place depends of what you are writing. For any kind of fiction, the French midi seems like a pretty good place. Since I consider crime fiction mainly an urban genre, I think I would rather write it in a city (you know which one), with just enough noise and a crime history for source material. If I ever write horror stories, I hope my attic room will be in a quiet English village. There is nothing more deliciously sinister as quiet English villages. If I wanted to write fantasy, I would probably choose an English village too. But of course, one would have to be quite wealthy to afford the luxury of writing in so many places, depending of his mood and what he is writing. I suspect this is why successful writers often owned many houses. Others have to compromise. Given the choice, I would choose an attic room, wherever it might be, to write anything.
I always dreamed of having an attic room to work in. This would be for me the best place to write. It is usually quiet, you feel closer to the elements, far away from the busy rooms of the house, it just fits writing. And you can always look out the window when you cannot find inspiration. I sorely lack an office in an attic room in this attic flat. I guess the basement could work well for writing. A garden too, if it is quiet enough and if the weather is nice.
Now if we widen the focus and thinkof writing environment, the ideal place depends of what you are writing. For any kind of fiction, the French midi seems like a pretty good place. Since I consider crime fiction mainly an urban genre, I think I would rather write it in a city (you know which one), with just enough noise and a crime history for source material. If I ever write horror stories, I hope my attic room will be in a quiet English village. There is nothing more deliciously sinister as quiet English villages. If I wanted to write fantasy, I would probably choose an English village too. But of course, one would have to be quite wealthy to afford the luxury of writing in so many places, depending of his mood and what he is writing. I suspect this is why successful writers often owned many houses. Others have to compromise. Given the choice, I would choose an attic room, wherever it might be, to write anything.
Où trouver Fantômas
Je blogue souvent là-dessus, mais quand je suis sur une lancée autant la continuer, même si je sais que Fantômas n'intéresse peut-être bien que moi (et ce serait une erreur). Enfin bref, je sais maintenant où trouver le Fantômas de Chabrol. Enfin! Bon, je ne sais pas si je vais acheter la série, bien qu'elle ne soit pas chère, mais c'était déjà bien de pouvoir voir des extraits. Pas aussi brillants que je l'aurais cru ou espéré, mais pas mal. C'est tout de même supérieur aux parodies minables de Hunnebelle. La série de Feuillade, dont j'ai vu les deux premiers épisodes (brillants), je sais déjà où la trouver (et je vais donc sans doute me taper du noir et blanc muet bientôt).
Saturday 21 May 2011
Ever growing readership
I was happy to see that Vraie Fiction recently got new readers. According to my followers list I now have 26. This is ridiculously small compared to many blogs I have seen, but it is still a good number. Not bad anyway, for someone who had started with only his family. One day, who knows, when I will have thousands of readers, I might even get paid to do this. Or maybe this day will never come. Too bad, I was planning on this for my retirement plan.
But seriously, here are some of my new readers: Eliza Keating, according to her Google profile she is a NHS nurse and children book writers (so my second writer here after Leigh Russell), I am the Guinea Pig (qui pour une raison quelconque n'apparaît pas sur la liste, Émile Couture and an Italian with the pen name of Gatto999 (bienvenudo). To all, welcome. I am curious on how they found this blog and what made them stay at Vraie Fiction (apart from clicking on "follow" by mistake). Please feel free to tell me your story in the comments section.
I will soon have to beef up the blogroll again.
But seriously, here are some of my new readers: Eliza Keating, according to her Google profile she is a NHS nurse and children book writers (so my second writer here after Leigh Russell), I am the Guinea Pig (qui pour une raison quelconque n'apparaît pas sur la liste, Émile Couture and an Italian with the pen name of Gatto999 (bienvenudo). To all, welcome. I am curious on how they found this blog and what made them stay at Vraie Fiction (apart from clicking on "follow" by mistake). Please feel free to tell me your story in the comments section.
I will soon have to beef up the blogroll again.
Labels:
blogging,
blogue,
cochon d'Inde,
Eliza Keating,
Guinea Pig,
I am the Guinea Pig
Un peu de Fantômas
Je cherche toujours la série télévisée de Chabrol, que je ne retrouve nulle part. Mais j'ai eu la chance de retrouver deux nouveaux extraits sur Youtube. Assez intéressant, je dois dire. J'aime bien le retournement de situation du premier extrait, tout à fait dans l'esprit des romans, bien rocambolesques avec juste ce qu'il faut de ridicule. Incidemment, Richard Martineau chronique aujourd'hui en mentionnant Chabrol. Il y a quelque chose de décadent dans la première scène, où je crois (quoique je n'aie pas le contexte) la sympathie du spectateur va à Fantômas, malgré son aura sinistre, il a le charme du diable. Dans le second extrait, où il fait avec indifférence des dommages collatéraux, il est tout aussi inquiétant, mais beaucoup moins charmant.
Friday 20 May 2011
Keeping my feet on the ground
I just couldn't let this one slip. I know very little about the Rapture, they didn't bother teaching us about it during my Catholic childhood. Probably because our teachers and the religious people who were coming at school trying to prevent us from thinking knew it was utterly ridiculous. I knew zilch about it as a Catholic boy, I know little more as a heathen. I really enjoyed Therefore Repent, a graphic novel that uses it as the basis for the story.
Some fundamentalists are going to pray and hope to leave this world (but why? it ain't so bad), while most Christians look embarrasingly the other way (I cannot blame them), many atheists/humanist groups are supposed to party about it (that's a good excuse as any) and I totally forgot about this non-event. But I find it suiting that whatever happens (or more likely not), I will keep my feet on the ground.
Some fundamentalists are going to pray and hope to leave this world (but why? it ain't so bad), while most Christians look embarrasingly the other way (I cannot blame them), many atheists/humanist groups are supposed to party about it (that's a good excuse as any) and I totally forgot about this non-event. But I find it suiting that whatever happens (or more likely not), I will keep my feet on the ground.
L'accent québécois (encore!)
On m'a dit aujourd'hui au travail que j'avais l'accent québécois. Par une Québécoise expatriée en France, que j'avais cru française. Ca m'a rassuré: je neutralise mon accent naturellement quand je parle ou quand je crois parler à des Français. Ca m'a aussi rassuré de voir que certains le neutralisent plus que moi. Je pense qu'il me faut un contact régulier avec mes compatriotes pourqu'il soit entendu à pleine capacité. En fait, mon accent est québécois dès mes premiers mots lorsque je parle à ma famille au téléphone.
Cela dit, ça me choque toujours un peu quand on trouve mon français difficile à comprendre, ce qui peut parfois arriver. Je déteste la condescendance, qu'elle vienne de Français ou pire, de non francophones. De la part des Français, ça prend souvent la forme d'erreurs grossières. Pour les francophiles anglais, ça prend souvent la forme d'une sorte de dédain pour ce qui est francophone, mais n'est pas français. Je déteste quand un Anglais (mettons) me dit que je n'ai pas un français compréhensible.
Cela dit, ça me choque toujours un peu quand on trouve mon français difficile à comprendre, ce qui peut parfois arriver. Je déteste la condescendance, qu'elle vienne de Français ou pire, de non francophones. De la part des Français, ça prend souvent la forme d'erreurs grossières. Pour les francophiles anglais, ça prend souvent la forme d'une sorte de dédain pour ce qui est francophone, mais n'est pas français. Je déteste quand un Anglais (mettons) me dit que je n'ai pas un français compréhensible.
Thursday 19 May 2011
When the trains run late
I got late to work today and got home late in the evening, because the trains were running late, because of some accident on the railway.
So this morning, I was waiting for the train, and waiting some more, like other commuters, until a bunch of taxis came, one of the drivers saying the train had been cancelled and the ride was paid by the by the train company... Then when I got in one with fellow unfortunate commuters the driver said that the ride would cost us £20 then the train company would pay back. I think he was trying to pull a fast one, but anyway we decided to get out. I hate scammers, especially when they are so unsubtle. It was like he thought we were really thick. So we waited for other taxis, or some bus or something, getting some rubbish info from the train line. A guy made this joke, which deserves to be a great unknown line: "The trains are not working again, we suck at everything!" I made this other great unknown line: "On the plus side, help lines seem to be working smoothly." But yes, there was lots of complaints about how trains work so well everywhere in Europe but here. Finally, and even though the train had been cancelled, it appeared a few minutes late. Even the helpline guy was clueless: he had said taxis or buses were on their way. But at the next stop the train remained still for a few minutes, so I arrived at work thirty minutes late.
Then when evening came the train didn't come, because of the same accident. We waited and waited and waited. When it finally arrived, it was an hour late. And it stopped one station before final destination (mine and the train's). So the rest of the commute was done in a taxi, in company of unfortunate commuters, but an elderly gentleman paid for it.
In spite of the frustrations of those journeys, in spite of the exhausting day I had because of them, I have to admit it was not all that bad. I managed to read a lot in the train, something I don't have much time to do anymore. On the way back, I talked a lot to a colleague I had never met (he works in a different department than mine) and a young guy who was doing his A Levels in drama. Yes, a fellow actor. Actually, he is more of an actor than I am, taking a path which at his age I did not even consider. When time stops like this, it makes you get in touch with your fellow bipeds, people you see every day without meeting, until that time when you are in the same boat (so to speak), sharing the same experience.
So this morning, I was waiting for the train, and waiting some more, like other commuters, until a bunch of taxis came, one of the drivers saying the train had been cancelled and the ride was paid by the by the train company... Then when I got in one with fellow unfortunate commuters the driver said that the ride would cost us £20 then the train company would pay back. I think he was trying to pull a fast one, but anyway we decided to get out. I hate scammers, especially when they are so unsubtle. It was like he thought we were really thick. So we waited for other taxis, or some bus or something, getting some rubbish info from the train line. A guy made this joke, which deserves to be a great unknown line: "The trains are not working again, we suck at everything!" I made this other great unknown line: "On the plus side, help lines seem to be working smoothly." But yes, there was lots of complaints about how trains work so well everywhere in Europe but here. Finally, and even though the train had been cancelled, it appeared a few minutes late. Even the helpline guy was clueless: he had said taxis or buses were on their way. But at the next stop the train remained still for a few minutes, so I arrived at work thirty minutes late.
Then when evening came the train didn't come, because of the same accident. We waited and waited and waited. When it finally arrived, it was an hour late. And it stopped one station before final destination (mine and the train's). So the rest of the commute was done in a taxi, in company of unfortunate commuters, but an elderly gentleman paid for it.
In spite of the frustrations of those journeys, in spite of the exhausting day I had because of them, I have to admit it was not all that bad. I managed to read a lot in the train, something I don't have much time to do anymore. On the way back, I talked a lot to a colleague I had never met (he works in a different department than mine) and a young guy who was doing his A Levels in drama. Yes, a fellow actor. Actually, he is more of an actor than I am, taking a path which at his age I did not even consider. When time stops like this, it makes you get in touch with your fellow bipeds, people you see every day without meeting, until that time when you are in the same boat (so to speak), sharing the same experience.
Labels:
acteur,
acting,
actors,
books,
grandes répliques inconnues,
great unknown lines,
job,
livre,
livres,
N'importe quoi,
train,
whatever
Question existentielle (49)
J'ai eu une journée difficile (voir mon prochain billet), alors je me suis posé cette question existentielle:
-Quels moyens prenez-vous pour vous réconforter lorsque vous avez eu une journée de merde?
-Quels moyens prenez-vous pour vous réconforter lorsque vous avez eu une journée de merde?
Wednesday 18 May 2011
No acting tonight
It was the right decision, however difficult. Still, it feels strange. I talked to my teacher yesterday, she was sad but udnerstood and she wants to do more with me. She is also planning a course with more experienced actors. I think I need this, something a little bit more challenging, when I can push myself a bit further. And I will have more time to blog about acting. I only mentioned glimpses of my recent experiences. I think I need to reflect on it further, it might also inspire me for the future.
Tuesday 17 May 2011
Procrastination
Je déteste ce mot comme la peste, mais j'en suis un exemple flagrant ces temps-ci. Pas au travail, là je ne remets rien à plus tard (je me ferais taper sur les doigts), mais dans ma vie domestique, je suis incorrigible: j'ai un certificat-cadeau d'Amazon depuis ma fête, mais n'ai encore rien commandé (et ce n'est pas comme si je ne savais pas quoi commander), je n'ai pas appelé certains amis alors que je veux le faire depuis des semaines (ou des mois), je ne me suis pas encore acheté de manteau , je n'ai aucune idée du moment où je vais prendre mes vacances et je lis à un rythme d'escargot.
Et je me demande bien pourquoi je procrastine comme ça...
Et je me demande bien pourquoi je procrastine comme ça...
Monday 16 May 2011
A taste of Salzburg
Somebody brought Mozartkugeln at work today. I managed to control myself and had just one. Not that I am that keen on Mozart chocolates, I mean sure it's chocolate so I love it, but it reminds me of my one and only trip to Austria and Salzburg, on the 200th anniversary of Mozart's death (20 years already, I am not getting any younger!). I ate it there for the first time, been eating it very occasionally after. I loved Austria in general and Salzburg in particular, so these chocolates reminded me of the place. And of course, it reminded me of the composer. I don't want to sound like Proust (which I barely read), but in one bite I was sent back to Salzburg, my eyes full of images and my head full of music. Because of a small piece of chocolate with a marzipan center.
And since it made me think of Mozart, this is just a good excuse as any to put a duet here, the Papageno-Papagena one. I worked a bit on some of Papageno arias, but I never got a feel for German as I did with Italian (basically my German is as bad as my Italian is good). But German I feel is the proper thing to listen when one thinks of Salzburg. I think I had a look at this particular duet when I was studying opera. The Magic Flute is maybe one of the most accessible opera one can find. It is certainly popular with kids as I happily discovered myself. But anyone can appreciate its beautiful simplicity.And for some reason I always wanted to sing this duet. Never had the chance.
And since it made me think of Mozart, this is just a good excuse as any to put a duet here, the Papageno-Papagena one. I worked a bit on some of Papageno arias, but I never got a feel for German as I did with Italian (basically my German is as bad as my Italian is good). But German I feel is the proper thing to listen when one thinks of Salzburg. I think I had a look at this particular duet when I was studying opera. The Magic Flute is maybe one of the most accessible opera one can find. It is certainly popular with kids as I happily discovered myself. But anyone can appreciate its beautiful simplicity.And for some reason I always wanted to sing this duet. Never had the chance.
Labels:
Austria,
Autriche,
chocolat,
chocolate,
La flûte enchantée,
Mozart,
Mozartkugeln,
nostalgia,
nostalgie,
opéra,
Salzburg,
The Magic Flute
Les mouettes
Alors que j'attendais le train sur le chemin du retour, j'ai entendu un cri familier. J'ai cru un instant que c'étaient un des chats qui geignait, puis je me suis rendu compte de ma stupide erreur: c'était des cris de mouettes. Il y en avait quelques unes qui volaient. J'ai eu une impression d'étrangeté, parce que nous sommes loin de la mer et que bien sûr les mouettes sont associées à la mer.
Leur présence est un signe que, malgré la température pas particulièrement estivale, l'été s'en vient. Enfant, j'associais mouettes et goélands aux vacances d'été, surtout quand on passait du temps à Tadoussac. Ca et au vol de frites: ces oiseaux sont particulièrement gloutons. Quand ils volaient l'été à Chicoutimi, ils formaient le bruit de fond de nos aventures marines (les jeux que l'on jouait autour de la piscine).
Oh, et cette photo a été prise à Vancouver (ou Vancuuuuver). Il y en avait plein.
Leur présence est un signe que, malgré la température pas particulièrement estivale, l'été s'en vient. Enfant, j'associais mouettes et goélands aux vacances d'été, surtout quand on passait du temps à Tadoussac. Ca et au vol de frites: ces oiseaux sont particulièrement gloutons. Quand ils volaient l'été à Chicoutimi, ils formaient le bruit de fond de nos aventures marines (les jeux que l'on jouait autour de la piscine).
Oh, et cette photo a été prise à Vancouver (ou Vancuuuuver). Il y en avait plein.
Sunday 15 May 2011
Musing on cats again
There is a tabby cat in the neighbourhood, I mentioned it before (I think it's the same anyway), he has been around lately. By the door, or nearby, he usually waits for us to show up and then he goes and rubs against us and gets very cuddly. He is not feral: he has a collar and seems very well fed. But today he seemed eager not only for us to stay with him, but to follow us into the block. It was a strange sight: every time I was getting up and moving towards the door he was making big predattorial strides and blocking the way, then purring and rubbing against me. I think he would have got into the flat had we let him.
I felt guilty all evening for not letting him in, but I couldn't: we cannot accomodate a cat and we don't have the right to own pets here. And his owner might be one of our neighbours on the ground floor. I said owner, but this cat I am sure, like other felines, own humans really. I said in my post last year that I wanted to adopt him if I could. I said the same thing today and yesterday, but I think it would be the other way around: he was ready to adopt us and take over our place. And like a sucker I came this close to let him in. I came back to my senses, but I thought a lot about that tin of tuna in the cupboard. With milk, that was the only thing I could have offered him.
I felt guilty all evening for not letting him in, but I couldn't: we cannot accomodate a cat and we don't have the right to own pets here. And his owner might be one of our neighbours on the ground floor. I said owner, but this cat I am sure, like other felines, own humans really. I said in my post last year that I wanted to adopt him if I could. I said the same thing today and yesterday, but I think it would be the other way around: he was ready to adopt us and take over our place. And like a sucker I came this close to let him in. I came back to my senses, but I thought a lot about that tin of tuna in the cupboard. With milk, that was the only thing I could have offered him.
Petite nature?
Il a fait en fin de semaine un temps passablement misérable: il a plu, mais surtout il a fait froid. Enfin, je dis "froid", je veux dire plus frais qu'avant. En fait, j'ai eu froid toute la journée. Je suis en général plus à l'aise avec les températures plus fraîches, mais j'ai trouvé celle d'aujourd'hui difficile. Il va sans doute faire beau demain, mais je me demande si je ne suis pas devenu un peu une petite nature.
Saturday 14 May 2011
Strange May
May has been really strange recently: while it was pretty much a heatwave back in April, the temperature has now cooled down to make it feel as if it was almost autumn. Not an autumn going in full force, but like the beginning of autumn, when the temperature is getting cooler. If it was not for the green leaves, the sun coming down late, it would have felt like September.
Oh, and I miss Walpurgis Night, springtime's Halloween (for those like me who are already missing the holiday). I used to blog about it, I haven't since 2008 actually, when I was unemployed and had plenty of time to blog. Back in April, it would have been strange, with the quasi-summer weather. Today, it would have been appropriate.
Oh, and I miss Walpurgis Night, springtime's Halloween (for those like me who are already missing the holiday). I used to blog about it, I haven't since 2008 actually, when I was unemployed and had plenty of time to blog. Back in April, it would have been strange, with the quasi-summer weather. Today, it would have been appropriate.
Labels:
april,
avril,
Halloween,
Mai,
May,
Nuit des Walpurgis,
Printemps,
Spring,
Walpurgis Night
Question existentielle (48)
Une autre question existentielle, de nature culturelle celle-ci:
-Des accents de locuteurs natifs, qu'ils soient nationaux ou régionaux, quel est votre préféré?
Je songe surtout au français mais pas seulement.
-Des accents de locuteurs natifs, qu'ils soient nationaux ou régionaux, quel est votre préféré?
Je songe surtout au français mais pas seulement.
Labels:
existential question,
France,
langue,
Québec,
question existentielle
A somewhat painful decision
I will not do the next acting class, that was supposed to start this Wednesday. I thought at first I would, but I will not. For various reasons, each one of them not enough by itself, but on the whole it was sadly the right decision: it is out of town, I will have to hang out for two hours until class starts, I will be very busy at work, it would take a lot of energy I am not sure I have right now and furthermore the course is not quite what I need right now. I want to go back on the stage, and this is more voice work. I would learn something, even something useful, but it is still not quite I am looking for.
I felt guilty saying no, especially since I wanted to do more acting. And because I know I will miss many aspects of the class: the exercises, the people, the whole creative process. But I don't want to feel that it is a chores, that it is something I feel forced to do. I want acting, and the whole learning process, to remain fun. And being exhausted doing something I did not quite sign up for is not exactly fun. It saddens me, but I will have my Wednesday evenings free. I still want to act, but I might take another path.
I felt guilty saying no, especially since I wanted to do more acting. And because I know I will miss many aspects of the class: the exercises, the people, the whole creative process. But I don't want to feel that it is a chores, that it is something I feel forced to do. I want acting, and the whole learning process, to remain fun. And being exhausted doing something I did not quite sign up for is not exactly fun. It saddens me, but I will have my Wednesday evenings free. I still want to act, but I might take another path.
Page de nostalgie chicoutimienne
Oui, ça se peut. Même si je me demande si je ne suis pas un peu étranger à mon berceau, mais il y a bien des choses dont je m'ennuie. Le Chicoutimi dont je me rappelle date un peu, bien plus en fait que le Montréal que j'ai connu d'abord et surtout dans les années 90. Normal, parce que j'ai passé mon enfance à Chicout. Alors donc, je me souviens:
-Du Café Croissant quand on mettait ce qu'on voulait dans le sandwich. On allait souvent déjeuner là, mais aussi souper.
-De Chez Georges, bien sûr, lequel a peu changé. En tout cas le menu est à peu près le même. Tout de même, c'était un authentique steak house durant mon enfance. Je mangeais le poulet barbecue, mais avant je mangeais une salade orientale. C'était gras. Si j'avais faim je mangeais une "tarte aux biscuits Graham" (je ne me rappelle plus du nom officiel, mais c'est comme ça que tout le monde y compris le personnel l'appelait et c'est maintenant le nom qu'elle a sur le menu).
-De la librairie les Bouquinistes (lesquels ont un blogue). Arrêt obligé chaque fois qu'on allait sur la Racine. LA librairie de Chicoutimi, enfin la belle, la vraie, la seule digne de ce nom à l'époque. C'est encore et de loin ma préférée. Elle m'a éduqué de mon enfance à l'âge adulte. J'y ai acheté à peu près tous les premiers Anthony Burgess, j'y ai découvert Tonino Benacquista, j'y ai acheté Frankenstein, Le Portrait de Dorian Gray, Ivanhoe, Le Chien des Baskerville, Moby Dick, tout pleins de Dont Vous Êtes le Héros (au grand désespoir de mes parents qui les trouvaient violents) et tant d'autres.
-Des parcs. Parfaits pour la micologie en automne, ou pour se promener à toutes les époques de l'année (mais surtout en automne).
-De la Vieille Pulperie. En fait, outre le fait que j'y ai été, je me rappelle assez peu de ce que j'y ai fait. J'y ai vu un théâtre d'été quand j'avais 17 ans. Plus jeune je crois que j'y ai vu des pièces de théâtre enfantines.
-Du Carnaval-Souvenir. Mais bien sûr...
-De Pizza Royale. Il fut un temps où c'était supposé être une pizzéria de qualité.
-Des feux d'artificies de la Saint-Jean Baptiste, que l'on regardait chez notre tante.
-Du Café Croissant quand on mettait ce qu'on voulait dans le sandwich. On allait souvent déjeuner là, mais aussi souper.
-De Chez Georges, bien sûr, lequel a peu changé. En tout cas le menu est à peu près le même. Tout de même, c'était un authentique steak house durant mon enfance. Je mangeais le poulet barbecue, mais avant je mangeais une salade orientale. C'était gras. Si j'avais faim je mangeais une "tarte aux biscuits Graham" (je ne me rappelle plus du nom officiel, mais c'est comme ça que tout le monde y compris le personnel l'appelait et c'est maintenant le nom qu'elle a sur le menu).
-De la librairie les Bouquinistes (lesquels ont un blogue). Arrêt obligé chaque fois qu'on allait sur la Racine. LA librairie de Chicoutimi, enfin la belle, la vraie, la seule digne de ce nom à l'époque. C'est encore et de loin ma préférée. Elle m'a éduqué de mon enfance à l'âge adulte. J'y ai acheté à peu près tous les premiers Anthony Burgess, j'y ai découvert Tonino Benacquista, j'y ai acheté Frankenstein, Le Portrait de Dorian Gray, Ivanhoe, Le Chien des Baskerville, Moby Dick, tout pleins de Dont Vous Êtes le Héros (au grand désespoir de mes parents qui les trouvaient violents) et tant d'autres.
-Des parcs. Parfaits pour la micologie en automne, ou pour se promener à toutes les époques de l'année (mais surtout en automne).
-De la Vieille Pulperie. En fait, outre le fait que j'y ai été, je me rappelle assez peu de ce que j'y ai fait. J'y ai vu un théâtre d'été quand j'avais 17 ans. Plus jeune je crois que j'y ai vu des pièces de théâtre enfantines.
-Du Carnaval-Souvenir. Mais bien sûr...
-De Pizza Royale. Il fut un temps où c'était supposé être une pizzéria de qualité.
-Des feux d'artificies de la Saint-Jean Baptiste, que l'on regardait chez notre tante.
Labels:
bookstore,
Chez Georges,
Chicoutimi,
childhood,
enfance,
Les Bouquinistes,
librairie,
nostalgia,
nostalgie,
restaurants
Friday 13 May 2011
13!
English below...
Tu parles d'un vendredi 13: journée épuisante au travail et Blogspot qui déconne! Hier je n'arrivais pas à aller sur le blogue et mon nom avait été changé pour mon adresse de courriel, ce qui était déjà passablement désagréable. J'arrive ici aujourd'hui et je m'aperçois que des commentaires ont été effacés! Surtout mais pas exclusivement des commentaires anonymes et de bloguers qui ont Wordpress. Par respect pour mon lectorat, j'ai remis ceux que j'ai pu replacer.
--------------------------------
It is Friday the 13th and it was quite appropriate for me today: I had an exhausting day at work and Blogspot is being temperamental! Yesterday I could not go on the blog and my name had been changed for my email address, which was frustrating enough. Today I come here to discover than many comments disappeared! It seems that they were mainly but not exclusively anonymous comments and some from bloggers using Wordpress. By respect for my readership, I put back those I could.
Tu parles d'un vendredi 13: journée épuisante au travail et Blogspot qui déconne! Hier je n'arrivais pas à aller sur le blogue et mon nom avait été changé pour mon adresse de courriel, ce qui était déjà passablement désagréable. J'arrive ici aujourd'hui et je m'aperçois que des commentaires ont été effacés! Surtout mais pas exclusivement des commentaires anonymes et de bloguers qui ont Wordpress. Par respect pour mon lectorat, j'ai remis ceux que j'ai pu replacer.
--------------------------------
It is Friday the 13th and it was quite appropriate for me today: I had an exhausting day at work and Blogspot is being temperamental! Yesterday I could not go on the blog and my name had been changed for my email address, which was frustrating enough. Today I come here to discover than many comments disappeared! It seems that they were mainly but not exclusively anonymous comments and some from bloggers using Wordpress. By respect for my readership, I put back those I could.
Labels:
blogging,
blogue,
Friday,
Friday 13th,
job,
vendredi,
Vendredi 13
Wednesday 11 May 2011
A funeral song and an eulogy
Yes, I know, this is not exactly a cheerful title, but I think it will be a pleasant post, and anyway we are in the middle of the week after all. Maybe that's why I thought about funerals. It happens sometimes. There are many, many scenes in The Wire I love, this is one of them. There is the friendship of these brothers in arms, a sincere, honest eulogy of a man who did is job well (most of the time), the loss and sorrow drowned in alcohol and party atmosphere. Oh, and there is The Body of an American by The Pogues.
I don't know if I want a funeral wake like this when I die, but I do want something akin to this: a night in an Irish pub, good music (maybe more this song, as I am not a "free born man of the USA") and a eulogy that would not idealise me too much. There is no worst homage than a fake one. "He was called, he served, he is counted." That is all that needs to be said about any half decent man I think.
I don't know if I want a funeral wake like this when I die, but I do want something akin to this: a night in an Irish pub, good music (maybe more this song, as I am not a "free born man of the USA") and a eulogy that would not idealise me too much. There is no worst homage than a fake one. "He was called, he served, he is counted." That is all that needs to be said about any half decent man I think.
Labels:
chanson,
Citation,
funérailles,
funerals,
Ireland,
Irish music,
Irlande,
music,
musique,
musique irlandaise,
quotation,
song,
The Pogues,
The Wire
Un long, long, long mercredi
Il y a des jours comme ça, mais les jours comme ça semblent être souvent des mercredis (ou des lundis, mais je trouve les mercredis encore pires). Je rassure mon lectorat: rien de dramatique ne s'est produit. J,ai simplement eu une longue journée chargée. Un peu frustrante aussi parce que j'ai assez peu progressé. Il n'y a rien de plus frustrant que de travailler et que l'on a l'impression de faire du surplace. J'aime mon travail bien plus que les derniers que j'ai eus ces dernières années, cela dit il y a des jours où on n'arrive pas à apprécier quoi que ce soit. Comme par hasard il fallait que ce soit un mercredi...
Tuesday 10 May 2011
A broken cedar branch
Just by the train station, or the gate that is meant to be our local train station (it looks like a Northern version of a station taken out of a spaghetti western), there was the branch of a cedar tree broken down from the trunk. It is quite a sight, this huge chunk of green blocking the pavement. I wondered if it was the last storm that did it. Or maybe (more likely/more precisely) the wind, which had been blowing a lot at that time. I don't know why it got stuck in my mind. Maybe because of this post. Maybe because I am often in awe when I witness the force of nature, or its aftermaths. It is simply one of those nothings that make life and get stuck in my psyche. Maybe there is something to do about it, a bit of text or something. In any case, I owe it a blog post.
Labels:
N'importe quoi,
Orage,
orage storm,
pluie,
rain,
storm,
température,
vent,
Weather,
whatever,
wind
Question existentielle (47)
Je ne sais pas pourquoi, je ne suis pas en vacances et je ne ferai pas de grands trajets pour un petit bout de temps, mais il m'est venu une question existentielle portant sur le voyage. Peut-être que c'est à cause du trajet quotidien en train. Peut-être que c'est parce que je pensais à l'Odyssée hier. Et un peu à ces vers. Enfin bref, je suis donc arrivé à cette question existentielle:
-Dans tous les voyages, petits ou grands que vous avez faits, quel a été votre trajet préféré et pourquoi?
J'ai mon idée, une liste en fait, mais je vais la garder pour les commentaires et j'attends les vôtres.
-Dans tous les voyages, petits ou grands que vous avez faits, quel a été votre trajet préféré et pourquoi?
J'ai mon idée, une liste en fait, mais je vais la garder pour les commentaires et j'attends les vôtres.
Monday 9 May 2011
The Temple of Aeolus
This is a picture of the Temple of Aeolus in Kew Garden. I mentioned before that I would blog about it again, as it fascinated me. I don't know exactly why this more than another attraction of the park, which had plenty to choose from. Hey, it's not even a real Greek temple! But I am like many Westerners, absolutely fascinated by Greco-Roman culture, about their mythologies and the stories they invented. It is funny: when one visits a park here (or in France), you can find plenty of neoclassical statues or, in this case, pseudo-Greek stuff. But I cannot complain. I can understand why people wanted to inherit this culture.
I have been into Greek mythology since I watched as a child Ulysse 31 and Clash of the Titans. Then of course I read about the real thing and discovered The Odyssey. I got fascinated by it. Ulysse was by my favourite Greek hero. He was a wanderer, a cunning man, therefore easier to identify with (his strenght came first and foremost from his intellect), his story was very dramatic but had a happy ending (and a bloody climax). Ah yes, and there was this episode with Aeolus. A short episode, not nearly as violent and dramatic as most of the others, yet not devoid of bitter irony.
But I love the temple for other reasons than its association with my favourite Greek story. I love its simplicity, the way its pillars almost sprouts out of the greenery, as if it had been there all along, belonged to the place like the trees and grass and plants. And well, it is appropriate temple to the god (or, originally, the ruler) of the wind that the temple is circular, entirely open on top of a hill to the winds that can blow through it, visited by Aeolus himself, in a way. I don't know if Sir William Chambers who designed it ever thought about it. I thought about our old Dungeons and Dragons games and regretted that we did not think about something like that: a small abandoned temple in the wilderness. it is such a beautiful, atmospheric setting.
I have been into Greek mythology since I watched as a child Ulysse 31 and Clash of the Titans. Then of course I read about the real thing and discovered The Odyssey. I got fascinated by it. Ulysse was by my favourite Greek hero. He was a wanderer, a cunning man, therefore easier to identify with (his strenght came first and foremost from his intellect), his story was very dramatic but had a happy ending (and a bloody climax). Ah yes, and there was this episode with Aeolus. A short episode, not nearly as violent and dramatic as most of the others, yet not devoid of bitter irony.
But I love the temple for other reasons than its association with my favourite Greek story. I love its simplicity, the way its pillars almost sprouts out of the greenery, as if it had been there all along, belonged to the place like the trees and grass and plants. And well, it is appropriate temple to the god (or, originally, the ruler) of the wind that the temple is circular, entirely open on top of a hill to the winds that can blow through it, visited by Aeolus himself, in a way. I don't know if Sir William Chambers who designed it ever thought about it. I thought about our old Dungeons and Dragons games and regretted that we did not think about something like that: a small abandoned temple in the wilderness. it is such a beautiful, atmospheric setting.
Une citation tirée de Gil Jourdan
"Pour traverser le pas, donne une main à Dieu et l'autre au diable."
Cette citation est tirée du prologue de La voiture immergée, la troisième aventure de Gil Jourdan par Maurice Tillieux. Outre que l'histoire est fort intelligente pour un whodunit, notamment parce qu'il y a des éléments de suspense particulièrement hitchcockiens, il y a ce (faux) dicton particulièrement savoureux. Qui a dit que la bédé était un art mineur?
Cette citation est tirée du prologue de La voiture immergée, la troisième aventure de Gil Jourdan par Maurice Tillieux. Outre que l'histoire est fort intelligente pour un whodunit, notamment parce qu'il y a des éléments de suspense particulièrement hitchcockiens, il y a ce (faux) dicton particulièrement savoureux. Qui a dit que la bédé était un art mineur?
Labels:
bd,
Citation,
devil,
diable,
Gil Jourdan,
La voiture Immergée,
Maurice Tillieux,
quotation
Sunday 8 May 2011
Blessed rain
Yesterday, it got seriously rainy. It was about time, because the early summery weather had been a bit rough to the vegetation and I did not want to get blasé about it. So there was a heavy storm early in the morning, so loud that it woke me up. I got up for a few minutes and went back to bed. Then later on in the evening, it rained heavily again. I don't like rain every time, but I love it fairly often, especially when it falls dramatically and I am inside and dry. I find it calming. In the evening, I opened the bedroom window so I could hear it better while I was reading. I could feel the cold air coming in and the wet smell. It was a moment of pure bliss.
Labels:
Orage,
orage storm,
pluie,
rain,
storm,
température,
Weather
Question existentielle (46)
Elle est peut-être un peu banale, mais elle a quand même une pertinence indéniable, surtout pour ceux qui sont portés à la mélancolie les jours de pluie:
-Que faire un jour de pluie?
-Que faire un jour de pluie?
Saturday 7 May 2011
The Thieving Magpie
I took this picture during our visit at Kew Gardens. There were plenty of things to take picture of, impressive views, I missed a lot of them, but I was happy taking a picture of a magpie. Fascinating creatures which I have discovered when I started studying in England. before that, I knew them from their reputation of thieves, but the bird meant little to me. I knew Overture of La gazza ladra since I had listened to it in the soundtrack of A Clockwork Orange and the role the magpie (and Rossini's opera) played in this Tintin album. Now I have to confess I know little about the bird still, close to zilch about their bad reputation as thieves of shiny objects, but I just love their look, the mix of white, black and blue.
Since I saw it and managed to take a close shot of it, I got the Overture of The Thieving Magpie in the head. I had decided to put it here, since I haven't had enough music recently.
Since I saw it and managed to take a close shot of it, I got the Overture of The Thieving Magpie in the head. I had decided to put it here, since I haven't had enough music recently.
Ménage des armoires
Ca arrive deux fois par année, une fois en automne et une fois au printemps: je mets de l'ordre dans les armoires à vêtements et je range les trucs de l'autre saison pour sortir celui des autres. Après un mois ou à peu près à vivre entre deux saisons et donc à avoir du linge pour temps chaud et pour temps froid cohabiter sur les mêmes tablettes (ce qui les rendait un peu bordélique), il était temps que je mette un peu d'ordre sur les tablettes. Exercice plus épuisant que je ne l'aurais cru, mais avec de la musique c'est endurable. Ca a un côté assez stimulant aussi. Pour une raison quelconque, je préfère celui de l'automne, un peu parce que je trouve les vêtements chauds plus confortables. Une constatation bête: je n'ai à peu près pas de vêtements neufs, enfin si peu que pas.
Friday 6 May 2011
One haunting, defiant line from Elmore Leonard
I read Cat Chaser by Elmore Leonard back in 2007, I haven't read it again. I don't remember all that much about it. But there is a line, from the beginning of the novel, that got stuck in my head and that I reread from time to time. I just find it so brilliant for some reason. Here it is:
"Mario, there's a certain amount of shit you have to put up with in this business, but you just went over the limit."
Elmore Leonard is famous, and deservedly so, to give great dialogues ("dialogue like broken glass" says the back cover of the book), lines cut by razor, all vivid and bloody. The rest of what George Moran says is equally brilliant, but this first line got stuck in my head since 2007. I am not quite sure why. Actually, I do: because I wished I had said it, or something similar, to some people whose way to despise and stigmatise me I could not stand and that were really giving me a load of crap. This line just exposes hypocrisy, this social cowardice we often call diplomacy and is just brilliant. Sure, I would have got into trouble saying it. Still, I regret I did not.
"Mario, there's a certain amount of shit you have to put up with in this business, but you just went over the limit."
Elmore Leonard is famous, and deservedly so, to give great dialogues ("dialogue like broken glass" says the back cover of the book), lines cut by razor, all vivid and bloody. The rest of what George Moran says is equally brilliant, but this first line got stuck in my head since 2007. I am not quite sure why. Actually, I do: because I wished I had said it, or something similar, to some people whose way to despise and stigmatise me I could not stand and that were really giving me a load of crap. This line just exposes hypocrisy, this social cowardice we often call diplomacy and is just brilliant. Sure, I would have got into trouble saying it. Still, I regret I did not.
Labels:
books,
Cat Chaser,
Citation,
crime fiction,
Elmore Leonard,
littérature policière,
livre,
livres,
quotation
Bière, ivrognerie, poésie, Plume
Je pensais qu'il n'y avait pas assez de musique sur ce blogue récemment, alors j'ai décidé d'en mettre un peu. Je crois que c'est le premier passage de Plume ici, ce qui est une aberration en soi. Plume Latraverse est un authentique poète, peut-être le pendant moderne québécois de François Villon (je ne me taris pas d'éloges). Ou mieux: l'héritier bâtard de François Villon. J'ai appris à l'apprécier à l'âge adulte, jeune adulte mais quand même. Je ne l'écoutais pas adolescent. Je me rappelle d'un animateur de pastorale, lui même amateur de guitare, qui avait dit à quel point Plume était méprisable, parlant d'alcool et d'ivrognerie et quoi encore, et sacrant en plus, le péché capital selon lui. Mais Plume est un vrai poète, avec de l'éducation et une façon de la passer sans pédanterie dans sa musique et dans ses vers. "Je meurs de soif auprès de la fontaine" dit-il dans cette chanson que je mets ici, faut quand même savoir d'où ça vient. L'animateur de pastorale était un petit catholique ignare qui chantait Dieu. Plume lui montre la poésie de notre existence.
Enfin bref, j'ai décidé de mettre ici Ballade des caisses de 24. J'ai eu l'idée ce soir en buvant une bière anglaise à l'apéro. Cette chanson semble raconter bien des soirées de ma jeunesse et elle est parfaite pour un vendredi soir.
Enfin bref, j'ai décidé de mettre ici Ballade des caisses de 24. J'ai eu l'idée ce soir en buvant une bière anglaise à l'apéro. Cette chanson semble raconter bien des soirées de ma jeunesse et elle est parfaite pour un vendredi soir.
Thursday 5 May 2011
What to read where
This is a follow up of this post. I thought about it quite a lot, and a recent post by Leigh Russell got me thinking about it again (and by the way Leigh enjoy your time in the Midi). As I said pretty often here I am a seasonal reader, I read according to the time of the year (horror stories before Halloween, novels set in a heatwave if I am in the middle of one, etc). Maybe I should be, sometimes, a "setting" reader. I thought about it a lot: one understands a country better through its literature. So here is a list of authors or titles I would read, or recommend to read, when I/one visits a place, or travels to a place (disclaimer: I did not visit all these places):
-Chicoutimi: The Dragonfly of Chicoutimi. Well, duh!
-Japan: something by Yukio Mishima. Read one novel of him, in cégep. If I ever go to Japan, I will pick up one of Mishima's work.
-Florence: Machiavel, in the text if I can, or with a translation on the side.
-Los Angeles: Raymond Chandler, definitely.
-Oxfordshire: Something by Tolkien. You visit the English countryside and you see the Shire, like my dad remarked recently.
-Rome: I would probably reread Bear's Roman Women. I know, I know. I am shamelessly plugging Burgess again. But it is such a great read. I would probably try to read some Italian poets, in the text. I would ask an Italian friend to give me a few tips. Not Dante, I got fed up with him.
-South Africa: something by Deon Meyer. I only read Dead at Daybreak, basically a crime novel about the ghosts of Apartheid, but I want to read more of this author. My mum made me discover this one. It has been too long.
-Train journeys (especially long ones): No, not this one! If you read French, try this one. Tonino Benacquista is sadly not very well known outside the French speaking world. A shame.
-Sea journeys, or beach holidays: Moby Dick or Treasure Island. Just because.
-Chicoutimi: The Dragonfly of Chicoutimi. Well, duh!
-Japan: something by Yukio Mishima. Read one novel of him, in cégep. If I ever go to Japan, I will pick up one of Mishima's work.
-Florence: Machiavel, in the text if I can, or with a translation on the side.
-Los Angeles: Raymond Chandler, definitely.
-Oxfordshire: Something by Tolkien. You visit the English countryside and you see the Shire, like my dad remarked recently.
-Rome: I would probably reread Bear's Roman Women. I know, I know. I am shamelessly plugging Burgess again. But it is such a great read. I would probably try to read some Italian poets, in the text. I would ask an Italian friend to give me a few tips. Not Dante, I got fed up with him.
-South Africa: something by Deon Meyer. I only read Dead at Daybreak, basically a crime novel about the ghosts of Apartheid, but I want to read more of this author. My mum made me discover this one. It has been too long.
-Train journeys (especially long ones): No, not this one! If you read French, try this one. Tonino Benacquista is sadly not very well known outside the French speaking world. A shame.
-Sea journeys, or beach holidays: Moby Dick or Treasure Island. Just because.
Sentir le vert
Cette photo a été prise aux Kew Gardens. Pourquoi la mettre ici? Parce que. Tout est une excuse pour mettre des photos de notre dernière grosse sortie. Mais c'est également une photo qui illustre parfaitement ce que j'ai ressenti quand je marchais vers le travail aujourd'hui: ça sent le vert, cette odeur d'un printemps qui se tourne lentement mais sûrement en été. Ca sent les feuilles, ça sent le gazon qui pousse (odeur plus plaisante parce que pas aussi forte que l'odeur du gazon coupé), ça sent la chlorophylle à plein nez. Ca ne sent pas encore le jaune d'un été sec. Ce qui était étrange, c'est que j'étais dans un coin avec assez peu de verdure.
Quand j'étais encore à l'école primaire, le directeur-adjoint, se plaignant que l'on ne faisait plus nos devoirs à cause du beau temps, avait dit: "c'est pas parce que c'est vert dehors que...". Le reste, je ne m'en rappelle plus, sauf qu'il nous avait menacés de pleins de devoirs supplémentaires et de retenues si on ne se disciplinait pas. J'ai pensé à cette anecdote aujourd'hui. Je n'aime pas particulièrement mai, enfin je ne le déteste pas, mais ce n'est pas mon mois préféré. Cela dit, il était temps que le beau temps arrive. Ce soir, j'ai écouté Vert d'Hamonium (duh!) et j'ai pensé à écrire ce billet.
Quand j'étais encore à l'école primaire, le directeur-adjoint, se plaignant que l'on ne faisait plus nos devoirs à cause du beau temps, avait dit: "c'est pas parce que c'est vert dehors que...". Le reste, je ne m'en rappelle plus, sauf qu'il nous avait menacés de pleins de devoirs supplémentaires et de retenues si on ne se disciplinait pas. J'ai pensé à cette anecdote aujourd'hui. Je n'aime pas particulièrement mai, enfin je ne le déteste pas, mais ce n'est pas mon mois préféré. Cela dit, il était temps que le beau temps arrive. Ce soir, j'ai écouté Vert d'Hamonium (duh!) et j'ai pensé à écrire ce billet.
Wednesday 4 May 2011
A whimsical great unknown line
Another one from my youngest brother, which is good enough to be an aphorism. You can see that we read Oscar Wilde. He added to his Facebook status update:, after a friend teased him about being humble
"When you think about it, humility is such a lie."
Funny, but also often true.
"When you think about it, humility is such a lie."
Funny, but also often true.
Le luxe de pouvoir dire non
Aujourd'hui, alors que je prenais mon lunch sur le tard (je le prends souvent sur le tard parce que mes journées sont chargées), j'ai reçu un appel d'une compagnie qui engage de manière contractuelle des enseignants en langues pour donner des cours privés à domicile. J'ai déjà travaillé pour eux en 2008, quand je cherchais désespérément à garder mon c.v. garni et à avoir un revenu quelconque. Enfin bref, il y avait quelqu'un qui voulait des cours durant le jour. J'ai dit non. J'aurais sans doute dit non pour des cours du soir également, parce que j'ai besoin de mes soirées et que si je les consacre à autre chose qu'à ne rien faire (ou à bloguer!), c'est pour faire quelque chose que j'aime énormément.
Ca m'a fait un bien énorme de leur dire non. C'est un moment comme celui-là qui me fait rendre compte que j'ai quand même progressé professionnellement, que j'ai gagné en dignité. De 2008 à 2010, j'ai eu longtemps l'impression que je gardais à peine ma tête au-dessus de l'eau de peine et de misère. Ca arrive parfois, il faut vivre avec, mais ça suce le temps que ça dure. De me rendre compte que je n'aie plus besoin de courir après les petits contrats, d'avoir le luxe de dire non, j'ai l'impression de prendre une douce revanche contre des gens qui m'ont un peu exploité par le passé.
Ca m'a fait un bien énorme de leur dire non. C'est un moment comme celui-là qui me fait rendre compte que j'ai quand même progressé professionnellement, que j'ai gagné en dignité. De 2008 à 2010, j'ai eu longtemps l'impression que je gardais à peine ma tête au-dessus de l'eau de peine et de misère. Ca arrive parfois, il faut vivre avec, mais ça suce le temps que ça dure. De me rendre compte que je n'aie plus besoin de courir après les petits contrats, d'avoir le luxe de dire non, j'ai l'impression de prendre une douce revanche contre des gens qui m'ont un peu exploité par le passé.
Tuesday 3 May 2011
A sort of poetic justice
I come back on my post about the execution of Bin Laden. I cannot say murder, for obvious reasons. Bin Laden was not murdered, he was killed. It brought a certain catharis to the Americans and the world in general, or at least the West. Today, I was thinking how fitting it was that he died in May, when spring is in full bloom and turning into. I am sure he couldn't care less, but there is a sort of poetic justice in it. I always thought that dying during springtime was the most cruel time of death. Dying on a beautiful autumn day too, but that is terribly unfair. Bin Laden's death was pretty much as fair as a death can be. I hope we have a beautiful May, especially in Pakistan.
Petit mardi...
Je parle très peu de politique sur ce blogue, je ne sais pas trop pourquoi. Peut-être que ça me déprime un peu. Enfin, depuis ce matin, à voir les résultats des élections, je me sens orphelin. Et Gilles Duceppe qui part... Il n'avait guère le choix, après l'injuste claque d'hier. Quand même, ça suce et c'est cruel. C'était mon député fédéral quand je vivais à Montréal. Un homme droit, comme le dit Yves Boisvert dans un billet, de loin le député pour qui j'ai voté avec le plus d'enthousiasme. On perd un homme intègre. Bon, le Québec a déjà voté pour des populistes de droite, maintenant il a voté pour des populistes de gauche. Je ne peux m'empêcher d'espérer qu'ils subissent le même sort.
Labels:
Gilles Duceppe,
mal de bloc,
nostalgia,
nostalgie,
Québec
Monday 2 May 2011
A hilarious great unknown line
...this time from my youngest brother. He put recently on his Facebook status:
"Getting smarter makes my brain hurt."
I don't know why, but I burst out laughing when I read it. I could not stop. I guess it is because I am not so smart yet.
"Getting smarter makes my brain hurt."
I don't know why, but I burst out laughing when I read it. I could not stop. I guess it is because I am not so smart yet.
Les Loups et les Brebis
"Nous pouvons conclure de là
Qu'il faut faire aux méchants guerre continuelle.
La paix est fort bonne de soi;
J'en conviens; mais de quoi sert-elle
Avec des ennemis sans foi?"
C'est la conclusion de la fable Les Loups et les Brebis de La Fontaine. J'ai cette citation en tête depuis que j'ai appris la mort de Ben Laden. Bien sûr, les ennemis en question ont une foi, mais je crois que par foi La Fontaine voulait dire morale.
Qu'il faut faire aux méchants guerre continuelle.
La paix est fort bonne de soi;
J'en conviens; mais de quoi sert-elle
Avec des ennemis sans foi?"
C'est la conclusion de la fable Les Loups et les Brebis de La Fontaine. J'ai cette citation en tête depuis que j'ai appris la mort de Ben Laden. Bien sûr, les ennemis en question ont une foi, mais je crois que par foi La Fontaine voulait dire morale.
Labels:
Citation,
fable,
La Fontaine,
loups,
quotation,
sheep. mouton,
wolves
An evil man is dead
This is one Hell of a way to wake up: seeing this on the news. So Bin Laden is dead. I cannot say much about it beyond the cliché I am afraid. I thought to title this post "Satan is dead", but that would have been ridiculously pompous. He was no Satan, nobody is, nobody ever was in history. I don't believe in Satan. Bin Laden was just an evil man, a terribly evil man, who got what has been coming at him. It was about time.
I blogged about 9/11 time and again... And again. I wish Bin Laden had been judged for his crimes, but there is justice in his death, especially as it is the result of a military operation. I was afraid he might die of old age. This would have been the greatest, most appalling form of injustice, and of the Western's impotence against Islamofascist threat. I cannot help but feel smug that Barack Obama succeeded hwere the buffoons of the religious right miserably failed, for about nearly ten years. Of course, Bin Laden was only one head of the hydra that is Islamist terrorism. But I think of my American friends, among them a New Yorker, and I feel like celebrating with them.
I blogged about 9/11 time and again... And again. I wish Bin Laden had been judged for his crimes, but there is justice in his death, especially as it is the result of a military operation. I was afraid he might die of old age. This would have been the greatest, most appalling form of injustice, and of the Western's impotence against Islamofascist threat. I cannot help but feel smug that Barack Obama succeeded hwere the buffoons of the religious right miserably failed, for about nearly ten years. Of course, Bin Laden was only one head of the hydra that is Islamist terrorism. But I think of my American friends, among them a New Yorker, and I feel like celebrating with them.
Labels:
9/11,
Barack Obama,
Bin Laden,
fondamentalisme,
fundamentalism,
Islam,
islamisme,
religion,
USA
Page de nostalgie montréalaise (2)
Mon frère, a commenté sur ce billet et y a ajouté bien d'autres souvenirs, que je vais donc mettre ici pour la postérité. Voici donc ses souvenirs de Montréal d'hier (lire: les années 90 et début des années 2000), avec mes commentaires en italique:
-l'énorme pieuvre en métal au dessus du restaurant L'Avenue. J'y suis allé une fois à l'Avenue. Restaurant caricaturalement surévalué s'il en est un.
-le défunt café "Porté disparu" avec ses fourmis en métal et son service inexistant. Très couru des gens de lettres, étudiants en littérature et artistes. Est devenu une Brûlerie Saint-Denis, puis autre chose. Même si l'endroit a connu des jours meilleurs, le service s'est considérablement amélioré. Le service était en effet inexistant, voire incompétent.
-le resto/magasin de cossins BD genre Tintin etc La mouette rieuse sur Saint-Denis. Il a eu une vie assez courte celui-là, le commerce était sans doute trop hybride et les prix trop chers. J'y ai pourtant bien mangé.
-la défunte chaîne de fast food Eurosnack. Une tragédie de mauvaises décisions y a mis fin. C'était ma chaîne de fast food préférée, mais ils en ont vite perdu (trop de bières, menu trop gros, etc).
-la défunte boutique Excalibor. Trop cher. jamais acheté que des marque-pages et des petites babioles pas chères.
-le temps où ils déneigeaient les artères principales d'un bout à l'autre avant les fusions/fissions à la marde (j'étais et je suis toujours pour une île, une ville, mais l'exécution a été un lamentable échec).Dommage que ça ait été un échec. Je me rappelle aussi de la neige
-on se rappelera tous du verglas de janvier 199. Oh que oui! Une ville entièrement paralysée, c'était surréaliste.
-Et la librairie Champigny (c'est bien ça?) avant qu'elle ne se fasse avaler par Renaud-Bray.Oui c'est bien ça. Il fut un temps où c'est Renaud-Bray qui tirait le diable par la queue. J'achetais beaucoup à Champigny.
-Et du temps qu'il y avait une caisse pop Desjardins devant le métro Mont-Royal et que les tourniquets étaient en haut des escaliers.Je me rappelle des deux. Le métro sur Mont-Royal faisait racoin un peu.
-Et du Café Munich devenu le Chou Frisé par la suite, maintenant un buffet thai dont les vitres ont toujours le givrage du Café Munich. On y a mangé une fois. C'était fort bon, genre bistro européen. Dommage qu'on l'ait perdu celui-là, il avait unc ertain cachet.
-l'énorme pieuvre en métal au dessus du restaurant L'Avenue. J'y suis allé une fois à l'Avenue. Restaurant caricaturalement surévalué s'il en est un.
-le défunt café "Porté disparu" avec ses fourmis en métal et son service inexistant. Très couru des gens de lettres, étudiants en littérature et artistes. Est devenu une Brûlerie Saint-Denis, puis autre chose. Même si l'endroit a connu des jours meilleurs, le service s'est considérablement amélioré. Le service était en effet inexistant, voire incompétent.
-le resto/magasin de cossins BD genre Tintin etc La mouette rieuse sur Saint-Denis. Il a eu une vie assez courte celui-là, le commerce était sans doute trop hybride et les prix trop chers. J'y ai pourtant bien mangé.
-la défunte chaîne de fast food Eurosnack. Une tragédie de mauvaises décisions y a mis fin. C'était ma chaîne de fast food préférée, mais ils en ont vite perdu (trop de bières, menu trop gros, etc).
-la défunte boutique Excalibor. Trop cher. jamais acheté que des marque-pages et des petites babioles pas chères.
-le temps où ils déneigeaient les artères principales d'un bout à l'autre avant les fusions/fissions à la marde (j'étais et je suis toujours pour une île, une ville, mais l'exécution a été un lamentable échec).Dommage que ça ait été un échec. Je me rappelle aussi de la neige
-on se rappelera tous du verglas de janvier 199. Oh que oui! Une ville entièrement paralysée, c'était surréaliste.
-Et la librairie Champigny (c'est bien ça?) avant qu'elle ne se fasse avaler par Renaud-Bray.Oui c'est bien ça. Il fut un temps où c'est Renaud-Bray qui tirait le diable par la queue. J'achetais beaucoup à Champigny.
-Et du temps qu'il y avait une caisse pop Desjardins devant le métro Mont-Royal et que les tourniquets étaient en haut des escaliers.Je me rappelle des deux. Le métro sur Mont-Royal faisait racoin un peu.
-Et du Café Munich devenu le Chou Frisé par la suite, maintenant un buffet thai dont les vitres ont toujours le givrage du Café Munich. On y a mangé une fois. C'était fort bon, genre bistro européen. Dommage qu'on l'ait perdu celui-là, il avait unc ertain cachet.
Labels:
Citation,
Eurosnack,
Montréal,
neige,
nostalgia,
nostalgie,
Plateau Mont-Royal,
quotation,
restaurants,
snow
Sunday 1 May 2011
What May will bring
This is the first day of May, spring is looking more and more like summer (sorry for the clichés) and my parents left England today. It was nice being with them, like a mini-holiday. We are still on holiday, as we have a bank holiday tomorrow. Being with my parents brought a few numbers of changes to my every day life: my alcohol intakes went way up (mainly beer and rosé wine which they are quite fond of), my calories intakes too(but my mum finds me too skinny so thinks I should eat more), I spent time playing tourist and tourist guide (succcessively and simultaneously) and overall ejoying life. I like being an hedonist when I can. I will try to keep it up for the upcoming month. I might not go out as often, but I can still try to cook nice food, drink beer and wine (as long as my liver allows it at least), read outside and try to enjoy myself. I don't know how easy it will be when these almost holidays will be over. Every day life has its way of getting in the way of the carefree existence one seeks, even when the flowers are blossoming and the weather is nice.
Labels:
Angleterre,
bank holiday,
England,
famille,
family,
holidays,
Mai,
May,
vacances
Citons Beaumarchais
Je n'ai jamais lu ni vu Le mariage de Figaro, je connais plus la controverse entourant la pièce et l'opéra de Mozart que la pièce elle-même, mais j'ai cette citation en tête depuis le mariage (vous savez lequel):
"Noblesse, fortune, un rang, des places, tout cela rend si fier ! Qu'avez-vous fait pour tant de biens ? Vous vous êtes donné la peine de naître, et rien de plus : du reste, homme assez ordinaire! "
Ah, la sagesse républicaine!
"Noblesse, fortune, un rang, des places, tout cela rend si fier ! Qu'avez-vous fait pour tant de biens ? Vous vous êtes donné la peine de naître, et rien de plus : du reste, homme assez ordinaire! "
Ah, la sagesse républicaine!
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