730

English below... (Yes, it is my first bilingual post in months.)

Ceci est mon 730e billet cette année. Ca n'a l'air de rien, mais ça veut dire que j'aurai écrit autant de billets en anglais et en français que de jours de l'année. Cela veut dire que j'ai été très productif cette année et, j'ose espérer, créatif. Je sais, qualité n'est pas quantité. Je ne crois pas écrire à moitié autant pour l'année 2012. Mon objectif en tant que blogueur n'est plus tant de bloguer plus, mais de bloguer régulièrement et d'aggrandir mon lectorat. J'ai aussi d'autres rêves, comme par exemple de vivre (un peu) de ma plume un jour, ce qui est arrivé à certains blogueurs. On peut rêver...
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This is my 730th blog post this year. It looks like nothing, but it means that I have written as many posts in English and French as there are days in the year. So I was very productive this year and I do think/hope that I was also inspired. Although to write a lot does not mean that I wrote quality stuff. I don't think I will write nearly as much for 2012. My aim as a blogger is not to blog more, but to blog regularly and to widen my readership.I do dream sometimes of making a bit of money with the blog, as some bloggers managed to do it, either by being paid to produce, or the blog because a gateway to more serious writing. One can dream...

Primitive (but gloomy?) happiness

After re-reading my earlier post in English, I was worried that my readership might think that I am feeling miserable, what with having short holidays and lousy working days and all. Well, no, not really. Not yet anyway, as I try to do things or enjoy little nothings that make life. Earlier on tonight, before and after dinner, it was very windy outside, there was rain and a bit of rain. We feel the elements more in this flat, as it is an attic. You can hear the wind blowing, feel it even shaking the windows, it gives you shiver just to listen to it, even more so when the hail hits the window or the roof.

I enjoy the spectacle of a furious, or at least a temperamental, nature, especially when I am home and dry. Like Coppola said in his audio commentary of The Godfather, it's free special effects. As far as I am concerned, it's a free show. In a way though, enjoying such display of temperament might tell something about my state of mind. It's not like watching the sun going down on a Summer evening or watching the snow falling quietly. There was a nastiness to the weather tonight. Still, it was a nice show of sound and... shadow.

Il me manque un jeu de société (et une société)

Je pensais à ça ce soir: entre Noël et le Jour de l'An, quand les Fêtes deviennent creuses et que les visites familiales s'espancent, mes frères et moi jouions à un jeu de société, en général Clue, Monopoly et Scotland Yard. Quand on ne pouvait pas jouer à Donjons et Dragons. J'ai déjà blogué là-dessus. Or, je n'ai pas un seul jeu de société ici. Pas un traître seul. L'appart est déjà rempli de toute façon, mais c'est quand même un signe des temps: je ne joue plus de jeux de sociétés durant les vacances de Noël. Mais pour cela il me faudrait des gens avec qui jouer.

Home early

As there was little to do at work and I did not take my lunch break while my colleagues were feasting at the pub (since there was little to do, yet I was suddenyl busy), I was allowed to go home early. Two hours early. I am glad as I was tired. I am getting used to the empty, or almost empty trains. Of half empty offices, not so much: I feel like I am in a morgue and I am one of the corpses. I do feel zombie, getting in and out of the place. Less work to do is not less exhausting. I do feel the post-Christmas blues still/already and I wonder why I was not allowed to take holidays if there was so litle to do.

Question existentielle (98)

Puisque les vacances de Noël s'achèvent déjà, cette question existentielle s'impose:

-Quand est-il temps de cesser d'écouter de la musique de Noël?

Blue Wednesday? (And early post-Christmas blues)

Today I was back to work, after the shortest Christmas holidays I ever had in my life. There is alledgedly such a thing as a Blue Monday, the most dreadful day of the year, which I blogged about before. Going to work reluctantly today, I was wondering if there wasn't a Blue Wednesday. I am still not sure whether my day was good or bad.

It was certainly exhausting. I was overworked all day in a still sleepy and half empty office. And confort food wise, it was sorely disappointing: my favourite sandwich shop was still closed, so were many others, so I had to go to a convenience store to buy an overpriced but disgusting sandwich for lunch. I didn't have time to buy my morning hot chocolate at Café2U. At least I had a biscotti again, which somewhat cheered me up. I think most people, heck, the whole Western world, are still running on holiday mode, so the working people like me are out of phase. The trains are still running on holiday schedule, so I arrived to work late... On the plus side, like last Friday, the trains were almost empty. And the later train coming gave me plenty of time to read. But overall I felt that the Christmas holidays were too short. I know we have New Year soon (and then I have at least something to look forward to), but for me when new year comes, Christmas, the heart of the holidays and the part that I enjoy most, is already gone. So I already feel the post-Christmas blues.

Au moins il y a les atocas

Bon, je n'ai pas eu de Noël blanc, je n'ai pas mangé de dinde, je n'ai pas eu de réveillon non plus, la bûche de Noël n'était pas maison, mais j'ai quand même, au moins, réussi à faire des atocas cette année. Pas assez pour nourrir une armée, mais assez pour que je puisse me sustenter. C'est quand même une particularité nord-américaine, avec la dinde notre apport aux réjouissantes des Fêtes. Je dis "notre", même si c'est une invention américaine. Sauf qu'on produit des atocas au Québec, qu'on utilise ce nom, que la recette que j'utilise, vraiment simple, est la recette familiale. J'en ai mangé encore ce soir avec des papates et de du Brie. J'ai déjà vu ici des sandwiches Brie et "cranberry sauce" ici, ce qui m'a donné l'idée.

Parlant de mélanges inusités et d'atocas, j'ai récemment mangé un sandwich dinde, bacon et chutney d'atocas de chez Marks & Spencer. C'était délicieux. J,espère un jour trouver une recette de chutney d'atocas. Autre anecdote à propos des mélanges inusités: j'ai mangé des atocas comme à côté avec des restes de viande de fondue chinoise (du boeuf). Boeuf émincé, frites, mayonnaise au curry et frites. Un repas d'après Fêtes improvisé que mon frère et moi avions fait un soir de semaine à Montréal. Revenu du travail aujourd'hui, je suis déjà en mode "deuil des Fêtes". Elles ont été particulièrement courtes, le choc a été brut, je me console comme je peux.

The Holly and the Ivy

Christmas day is already technically over and my holidays will be over soon. The Twelve days of Christmas, for an employee of the private sector, is a long time gone tradition. So until I get the post Christmas blues (tomorrow morning), I thought about uploading here one Christmas carol while it is still Christmastime. I once mentioned that the imagery of Christmas reminds me of Viking mythology. This particular carol especially, The Holly and the Ivy, which is maybe more than any filled with Pagan elements. Rising of the sun, running of the deer, this is pure primitivism. It is also directly linked to the story of the death of Balder. The plants were also associated with fertility myths in Celtic cultures. Here it is interpreted by Mediaeval Babes. Maybe the last Christmas carol I will listen to until next year.

Si au moins il neigeait...

C'est aujourd'hui ma dernière journée de vacances. Je n'ai jamais passé des vacances de Noël aussi courtes depuis que je fais partie de la population active. Non, pire, depuis le début de mon existence. C'est un aspect de mes anciens emplois dans le merveilleux monde de l'éducation dont je m'ennuie: les vacances étaient obligatoirement plus longues (en fait c'est bien la seule chose de ma carrière dans le monde de l'éducation primaire et secondaire anglaise dont je m'ennuie). Je pourrais  composer avec ces courtes vacances si au moins il neigeait. Et pour mettre du sel sur les plaies, une tempête de neige va s'abattre sur le Québec aujourd'hui. Il y en a qui ont toutes les chances. S'il neigeait comme ça ici, j'aurais des vacances prolongées. Et en plus ce serait beau.

Two Christmas carols with an Irish twist

You can see at your left the Christmas tree of my family in Chicoutimi. Believe me: it is much more impressive in real, and you have the lovely smell which I miss terribly. because we are still during the Christmas holidays, because we are on Boxing Day, which I hate and I want to exorcise it as much as I can (even though it is practically over now), I thought I would upload two Christmas carols tonight, not just one, as I could not decide between the two. The first one, Good King Wenceslas, I already uploaded last year. It is also St-Stephen's Day, the Feast of Stephen as the song says, so I had to reuse it. The second is Christmas in Killarney, which I discovered a long time ago as sang by Bing Crosby. But is is not nearly as good as done the Irish way. So I decided to put both carols interpreted by the Irish Rovers, who are ironically enough Canadian. I love this song as it is a nostalgic one and it appeals to the expat I am, even though I am not Irish. And I have this love for Irish culture, so I thought I would celebrate it on another day than St-Patrick's Day. The picture of a Christmas tree is a bonus.

Question existentielle (97)

Une autre question qui porte sur Noël:

-Que mettre au sommet de l'arbre de Noël?

The Christmas speech of Mrs. Claus

So Queen Elizabeth gave her Christmas speech yesterday. She mentioned her visit to Ireland (not mentioning that she didn't bother to have even a sip of Guinness). She also spouted other clichés about Jesus and the Nativity Story. The problem with monarchs is that they think they are born and in power out of divine right, and in Christian societies it means that they think Jesus gave them power over men. I often wonder what she would have thought of this Jewish rabbi, son of carpenter of very low origins, had she met him in the flesh. Whatever her sycophants say, she never struck me as humble (if she was she would have had a sip of that Guinness). Don't get me wrong: I have no idea if the Jesus pictured in the Gospels was anything close to the real rabbi Jesus who probably preached in ancient Palestine. But I seriously doubt that the foundation of the British monarchy and the Church of England was part of his plan.

I say she never struck me as humble, yet she is a living, breathing monument to the bling bling, vulgar, tacky, brainless rich and famous counter-culture that impress many commoners (and many not so commoners who should know better). Case in point: the head the United Kingdom, indeed the head of many democratic states, including Canada, was again this year dressed like Mrs Claus. I noticed it last year in my own Christmas speech. I may be too harsh: how can you look anything else than ridiculous when you have your title because you were born? But this is still striking: she looks ridiculous, sounds ridiculous, speaks commonplaces and is revered because she is a monarch. It's symptomatic of the institution: when your head of state os crowned, you end up with Mrs Claus at Christmas.

Une photo pour calmer le mal du pays

Parce que j'en ai fait la demande, mon père m'a envoyé hier des photos du Noël de la famille à Chicoutimi. Un Noël blanc comme on n'en trouve pas ici et comme on n'en a pas eu dans le sud du Québec cette année, semblet-t-il (suis-je bien informé ou a-t-on finalement eu un Noël blanc là-bas aussi?). Alors voilà, à mes amis bloguers expatriés qui s'ennuoent de la neige, une photo d'un Noël enneigé. Vous remarquerez aussi dans le coin gauche, la couronne de Noël. Les couleurs des lumières de Noël sont plus impressionnantes lorsqu'il y a de la neige.

Renewing with Christmas excesses

I just checked at the time, and it is nearly 30 minutes past midnight. Where did Christmas go? I wanted to wish Merry Christmas to my readership but didn't have time. I barely had time to do anything today and I think I numbed my blogging muse with excessive eating and drinking. Well, I didn't drink all that much: one pint of beer and two glasses of red wine, but with the heavy food, the fat, sugar and alcohol mix, my brain was numb. It is still. Renewing with excesses after weeks, or months of ascetic life is always a bit of a shock. So I apologise to my fellow bloggers for not wishing them happy Christmas on the day. But I guess you were all busy and being excessive yourself. I don't know for you, but I hope my stomach and liver (especially my liver) can take it tomorrow too. I mean today. After my night of sleep, that is. Christmas is short this year, so I do hope I can be excessive for the little time I have.

Un conte de Noël rérional

Joyeux Noël à tous. Je suis en train de digérer mon repas de Noël végé et je me demandais sur quoi bloguer en ce 25 décembre 2011. Et puis ça m'a frappé: je n'ai que diriger mes lecteurs vers un conte de Noël. Ca m'arrive parfois (ici entre autres) Et ça concerne ma famille. Ma grand-mère pour être plus précis. Alors voilà, une courte nouvelle, un conte moderne pour être plus précis/plus exact , tiré du bouquin de mon cousin Samuel Archibald (en lire plus ici). Vous trouverez donc Madeleine et les jézabelles sur Cyberpresse. Croyez-le ou non, tout est absolument authentique. Vous ne me croyez pas? D'accord, Samuel a peut-être inventé un truc ou deux. Ou peut-être pas. Mais avouez que c'est savoureux.

An empty, sleeping town

We are Christmas Eve. In less than an hour and half it will be Christmas. I did a last minute run to Sainsbury's before it closed tonight, to buy some last minutes stuff for Christmas (Coca Cola and brussel sprouts, which my brother thought was quite funny). Something struck me: almost everything was close and so quiet. There where some people, many wearing Santa Claus' hats (!), walking to the pubs that were (are?) still open, almost empty, and the roads were empty. Usually there are a lot of cars driving until late at night, especially on a Saturday, but it was so quiet. With the snow it would have felt almost natural, but this seemed so strange here. This is not as new to me as the deserted train, but it was still unusual. I come from a place where people travel to see the family at this time, or go to the Midnight Mass (their only trip to church in a year), anyway you can see people outside until midnight, where Christmas starts with Minuit Chrétiens (O Holy Night) in every church and on the radio. There is a quiet febrility before Christmas. Here it is just... Quiet. I don't dislike it, in fact I find quiet little towns quite pleasant. But I do find it unusual.

Un Noël sans réveillon

Dans quelques minutes, je vais manger mon dernier chocolat du calendrier de l'Avent. Et puis je vais écouter de la musique de Noël (ce que je fais présentement), regarder la télé, lire un peu de lecture de circonstances, etc. Et puis je vais me coucher. Parce que Noël en Angleterre c'est fêté le 25. Je veux dire le 25 dans la journée/soirée. Je ne m'y fais toujours pas. Le réveillon, c'est une tradition bien catholique et française qui existe assez peu ici. Ca me manque moins que la neige, la dinde, le vrai sapin, les pâtés à la viande, la bûche de Noël... Cela dit, le réveillon, c'est quand même un peu ce qui tient tout ça ensemble. Se bourrer la fraise après minuit, développer les cadeaux qu'on aura le temps d'apprécier le lendemain, tout ça fait partie de la fête. Je ne vais plus à la Messe de minuit parce que j'en n'ai rien à cirer.

Je sais que dans bien des familles québécoises, on mange le souper de Noël le 24 au soir, lequel est souvent autre chose que de la dinde (un buffet est quant à moi une hérésie à Noël), ensuite on développe les cadeaux (avant ou après minuit), ensuite... Ensuite ça se termine? Mais dans ma famille, on est traditionalistes: Noël ça se fête après minuit. On rend visite aux voisins avant pour passer le temps, mais le coeur de la fête, c'est le réveillon.

Wintery atmosphere for Christmas eve

I didn't know exactly what to upload here or what to blog about as I am waiting for Christmas to arrive. This post is not very original: I blogged about similar subjects here and here. This picture by Larry Elmore is called Winter campaign. I have no idea what the context is, but judging by the clothes and weapons of the characters here I think they are meant to be Eastern European (or akin to them). In any cayse, it reminds me slightly of our own Dungeons & Dragons campaign: the characters travelling in the snow on horses, the raven/crow/corvid looming over them ominously (my brother had the raven as the emblematic animal of the big baddies in our D&Dr campaign), I wonder if he is part of the party or spying on them, the giant boar accompanying them... I think they are baddies, thinking about it. I might be wrong. But aside from this, the landscape, the setting and atmosphere here, the sense of dynamism Elmore creates so well, all this reminds me of our D&Dr campaign when we play during Christmastime.

As I said, before, I associate Christmas carols with D&Dr. I have already uploaded a song from Jessye Norman's Christmastide here. I have already put McKennit's version of O Come O Come Emmanuel. But as I mentioned before, I associate the interpretation of Jessye Norman with those moments when our characters travel in the snowy landscape, leaving their inn of their castle early in the morning, mounting their horses for a long journey. And now Christmas is coming, almost here, so this carol is fitting to all states of mind.

Question existentielle (96)

Une question qui ressemble aux question 28 et 29:

-Quel est le cadeau de Noël que vous aimeriez recevoir?

Ca a aussi une dimension pratique: après tout, il reste encore un peu de temps...

Deserted trains

I was back home early from work today: I only had half a day. So I am officially on holiday now, for four days. I feel less like Bob Cratchit. It is the very first time today in, well forever, that I was going to work on the 23, so close to Christmas. It didn't look like Christmas, what with the heavy rain and the way too warm weather, but something struck me in the morning commute and the way back: the train was almost empty. The few other people travelling seemed to be going somewhere else than their working places, in fact I was the only one leaving and waiting at my stop. I enjoyed the train journey a lot because of this: I was excited to leave work early and go home, obviously, but there is something less oppressive about deserted trains.

23 Décembre

Ca doit être la troisième fois que je mets 23 Décembre ici. Mais comme on est le 23 décembre et que ça me calme du mal du pays (un peu), alors je la remets ici. Elle est chantée par Hugo Lapointe (le frère de l'autre, qui a par ailleurs un blogue) L'interprétation ne peut pas être aussi bonne que l'originale, mais comme j'ai déjà mis l'originale deux fois ici, j'ai pensé varier un peu. J'ai trouvé l'interprétation sur un blogue consacré à Noël. On ne peut pas faire plus Noël québécois que la chanson de Beau Dommage, alors j'espère que vous apprécierez comme moi.

Fighting the Scrooge spirit

I will not be home for Christmas, there will be no snow (it will even be hot), I barely have holiday to speak of, so I am tempted, for maybe the first time of my life, to feel like Scrooge at Christmas. The one before the three ghosts show up. I guess job wise I am a bit more like Bob Cratchit, but I still feel bitter like Scrooge these days, and this bitterness can easily overcome me and make me grumpy. I am not liking this Christmas season as much as others. So I try to fight the foul mood. I listen to Christmas music, try to sing some a bit too, I made cranberry sauce,I eat clementines,  I try to do those simple things. I didn't risking making a yule log, but I bought one from a local bakery. Not to force the season on me, but to keep it alive.

Simple things make me happy. I had my sandwich treat today instead of tomorrow... because tomorrow I might go home early. So instead of a Friday treat, it was a Thursday treat. I played safe this time (unlike last week): a smoked salmon baguette. And I had an unexpected treat for dessert: a colleague, half Italian, had made biscotti. I cannot remember the exact Italian name, but it had nuts (hazelnuts) and some spices, I think ginger and a hint of cinnamon. It tasted like Christmas I thought, albeit I don't know much about Italian Christmases. Maybe the spice, very much like the one I taste in mulled wine and Christmas pudding, made me think that. In any case, it got me in a better mood.

Se faire une raison

Cette photo a été prise à Chicoutimi en décembre 2006. Il avait très peu neigé alors, mais on avait quand même (au moins!) eu un Noël blanc. L'hiver était arrivé plus tard, en janvier, juste quand je quittais le Québec pour l'Angleterre. Je n'ai pas vraiment senti Noël cette année-là. Alors voilà, puisque je ne pourrai pas être au Québec, j'essaie de me faire une raison. Je vais célébrer ici. Il y aura au moins un sapin et des cadeaux. Pas de dinde, mais il y aura un truc végé à la place qui n'est pas mauvais. Et j'ai fait les atocas.Et puis je peux regarder les photos des Noëls d'hier. Au moins je peux rendre ce blogue festif.

I'm dreaming of...

...well, home really, first and foremost, and I guess this song would be more appropriate to my state of mind now (and I swear it will bring a tear to the eyes of every homesick reader). But I am, I must confess, dreaming of a white Christmas, like in the famous Bing Crosby song. Even though it is alledgedly the most popular Christmas song of all times, it is not my favourite Christmas song (I do, strangely enough, prefer the religious Christmas carols to the profane ones), but I do feel like it now. I miss the snow (which is not everywhere in Québec this year), it saddens me greatly that I will not even see one snow flake for Christmas (because there might even be record heat, boy sometimes this country sucks and at the very worst time). So I relate to the song. I do listen to it, but I sing it very often. Enough to irritate my colleagues at work. It is another strange oddity of me: I listen to religious Christmas carols, but I sing the profane ones. Anyway, here it is.

La cuvée 2011 de Ciné-Cadeau

Je blogue parfois sur Ciné-Cadeau, surtout depuis que je ne le regarde plus. Ciné-Cadeau était un moment important des Noëls mon enfance. J'y ai découvert des grands classiques et des dessins animés prodigieusement médiocres. J'ai regardé la cuvée de cette année. Je me demande ce que mon lectorat en pense. Il y a des horreurs épouvantables (celle-ci notamment), des classiques modernes qui n'existaient pas alors que j'étais enfant (celui-ci) et des vieux films animés souvent médiocres qui doivent leur célébrité parce qu'ils sont des adaptations d'un classique (ce genre de Tintin, par exemple, franchement une pâle copie du personnage d'Hergé). J'en regarderais bien un rien que pour le plaisir. J'imagine qu'il faut certains vieux titres connus, qui sont là depuis des décennies, peu importe la qualité intrinsèque du film. Mais enfin bref, que pensez-vous de Ciné-Cadeau en général et de la cuvée Noël 2011 en particulier?

A brand new great unknown line

It is I think a first: there is no context to this great unknown line, or very little, I never said it or wrote/read it on Facebook , wrote it on a blog or anywhere. I just thought about it and needed to write it down for posterity. So here it is:

"I end up doing a lot more than I want but a lot less than I should."

Question existentielle (95)

J'ai eu droit à un presque party de bureau aujourd'hui, ce qui veut dire quelques minutes à manger de la pizza, des lanières de poulet pané et des patates frites de chez Pizza Hut en écoutant de la zique de Noël. Je me suis rendu compte que j'essaie d'éviter les partys de bureau en général. Ceci est un long préambule, je sais. Enfin bref, je me pose cette question existentielle:

-Quel est l'intérêt des partys de bureau?

A dramatic pulp fiction cover

I am following this old/new "tradition" of uploading a Detective Tales cover every month and commenting on it just for kicks. This cover is from December 1937 and is brilliantly dramatic. A bit more extravagant than the November image, the villain looking much more like a stereotype. We have again the squared jaw hero, the blonde femme fatale, who is an unknowing damsel in distress. (Are they the same characters as in the previous cover? They could be.)The danger they are facing is double: the hero is shooting away with his revolver, while the badguyis about to plunge the blade of his cane-sword. And they are trying (I think) to get the hero on a train.

As it is often the case, y favourite character here is of course the villain. With the goatee, the dark suit, he looks like the devil. He is overly elegant, but an elegance that is also old fashioned, what with the monocle and the top hat. He looks slightly ridiculous in an unsettling, troubling way. And there is the sword-cane. Why are swordsticks so popular a weapon for villains, especially from this time period? I have a few hypothesis: it is a blade, which emphasises here latent impotence, which seems even more blatant as he is ready to cooly execute a beautiful woman. The weapon is also a concealed weapon, an arm of treachery and back stab. I hope there is a story with this cover. Because whatever I can imagine cannot be half as good as what I see.

Un Noël vert, c'est un Noël brun

Je viens de lire ce déprimant article sur la très probable absence de neige à Noël au Québec, en tout cas dans le sud et à Montréal. Ici aussi, après avoir prophétisé l'Apocalypse blanc, il semblerait que l'on aura du temps On appelle ça un Noël vert, mais en fait c'est un Noël brun. C'est laid, Noël sans neige. J'ai donc décidé, pour m'en consoler et consoler mon lectorat, de mettre ici un classique de La Fin du monde est à 7 heures, une chanson désopilante interprétée par Marc Labrèche. Elle est malheureusement incomplète, mais elle a de quoi nous faire dilater la rate.

An English winter

Today I went out. It was cold, it was sunny, there was ice on the ground, enough for me to nearly trip over it, but there was no snow. Rain fell in the morning and later on in the afternoon. I am getting used to it, or trying to. It is not always easy, especially when one feels homesick, but I try to appreciate the kind of winter that I am having and that I will most likely have. Sure, there was no snow, but at least the light was beautiful today. I never saw lights like in English winters, they take dark orange shades when evening comes. So this is something to appreciate.

Question existentielle (94)

Pour rester dans l'esprit des Fêtes: et parce que j'ai jeté un coup d'oeil sur la programmation de Ciné-cadeau:

-Quel est selon vous LE film de Noël?

An image of Bergamo

I have an Italian friend (well, the Italian friend I mention here) who is from Bergamo, which I visited. I have seen little of Italy, which is ironic as I have known many Italians. But anyway, I did see Bergamo extensively and I was lucky enough to see it with locals. I found it a much nicer place than the overrated Milan. My friend published recently on Facebook an article from the New York Times about the city. I read this with a strange feeling, as I have known Bergamo maybe not as an insider, but certainly without the same foreign feeling tourists have when they visit a place. My friend thought it was strange to see her home place as an exotic location. I don't really remember the names of the tourist attractions, I just remember, but vividly, being there. I am of two minds about the effect the article may have. I love this underrated city to be recognised, but I don't want it to become plagued by tourists. Tourists can stay in Milan. Bergamo I hope remains more than an image on a postcard.

Le bons sens laïque québécois

Un texte franchement mauvais rempli d'accusations grotesques et de raisonnements fallacieux, écrit par un certain Aubert Martin (père de deux fillettes, comme si c'était  m'avais fait fortement réagir. Je suis heureux et soulagé de constater que ce texte en a fait réagir d'autres. J'avoue que je ne l'espérais pas. Il y a donc des gens de bon sens au Québec, qui ont bien compris l'importance de la laïcité de l'espace public. Le catholicisme a fait bien des ravages au Québec, mais ses manifestations les plus militantes sont peut-être bien les symptômes d'une maladie dont on est en train de se remettre. Je suis modérément optimiste.

And what beautiful light it gave

It is not because something is expected that it is not sad. Christopher Hitchens died yesterday. Cancer sucks. I never read his books, but I did follow his work, watched countless videos of him, read his articles. I blogged about him before. I have decided to use the same title as then, as in an age when the forces of obscurantism are rampant, he gave us a beautiful light. This light was sharp, merciless, unapologetic, iconoclastic. As light should be. I didn't agree with everything he said (on the Iraq war for instance), but on the most I have to say he was spot on. He was a brilliant debater with a sharp mind and flawless logic. I think his critics, still virulent after his death (here is a sample), could never forgive him for being smart and logical, that he was everything they often failed to be. Well, we still have his aphorisms. And the homage of his friends. He died yesterday, but unlike many fellow primates, he certainly lived. Excessively, but can we have too much life?

Écrire avec des gants (au sens propre)

Je tape ces lignes avec des gants, les "gants magiques" de notre enfance (on peut faire des petits bonhommes avec). Il fait toujours froid dans l'appart, comme je le disais quelques jours plus tôt. Mais le problème n'était pas normal: le chauffage ne fonctionne pas/mal. Mais il est en train de se faire réparer alors que j'écris ces lignes. Je commençais à en avoir un peu ma claque de porter trois épaisseurs à l'intérieur. Surtout que je vis au grenier: il y fait naturellement plus chaud

The sandwich for this Friday

The Apocalypse didn't show up in the end. Not yet anyway. But there was for the first time a hint of snow. Big flakes at some point, which didn't stay on the ground. It felt good. And for lunch, I had my Friday treat: the sandwich from my favourite sandwich shop. I hope my readership does not mind sandwich posts, because yes, this is another one.

I had it, as usual, with Coca Cola and cashew nuts. I was in the mood for something heartier. So today I had a beef slices baguette with fried onions, lettuce, tomatoes, black olives and a bit of mustard/mayonnaise. I rediscovered how much they work for their customers: the man who worked at the till (the same who had given me their phone number when I couldn't get there before closing time) suggested the fried onions and beef, he also had the brilliant idea to mix English mustard and mayonnaise to soften the taste of mustard. I love all mustards see, exceptEnglish mustard because it is surprisingly too strong. So he had this idea of mixing it with mayonnaise. Half and half. It tasted delicious.

I enjoyed my lunch a lot, but the beef was a bit too rough by moments. So far it was my least enjoyable sandwich. So next time I will probably go for something safe, the salmon baguette. The service was still beyond reproach, in fact admirable. I am looking forward for my next Friday lunch, for the food as much as the place.

Question existentielle (93)

Une question qui me vient parfois en tête une journée froide comme aujourd'hui:

-Quelle est la meilleure façon de placer son foulard autour du cou?

A sign of Doomsday

There is a sign of the upcoming Doomsday on my way to the train station: a cedar broken branch, just like a few months ago. it has been on the pavement  all week, it is almost as if someone threw the old one there. Well, not really, as it is very green. It smells lovely too. I love cedar trees, we have them at home in Chicoutimi. So smelling this broken branch reminds me of home a bit. But it also reminds me that these days the wind is strong, the clouds heavy, the air cold and that since the weather channels have been broadcasting all Hell breaking loose, Doomsday might actually happen. Today on my way back the train was already late. If it is late on my way to work tomorrow I can read. Then I can have a nice sandwich at lunchtime. If I don't survive the day, at least I will die happy.

Un banc public (photo du mois)

Le thème de la photo du mois de ce mois-ci m'a obligé à réutiliser une photo, laquelle s'est imposée d'elle-même. Contrairement à celui du mois précédent, lequel m'a fait ramer mais qui en bout de ligne était particulièrement, non exceptionnellement, inspirant, le thème de décembre est assez simple. On ne pouvait pas battre le bout du monde, bien sûr (le pourra-t-on un jour?). Ca m'a quand même laissé dubitatif, dans un premier temps: les bancs publics, comment être pertinent après Brassens? Enfin, on ne me demande pas de composer une chanson. Alors voilà, j'ai été très paresseux parce que je publie une photo déjà publiée ici. Mais j'ai recentré le banc public. Et c'est l'hiver, décembre, donc il me fallait, je pense, une photo hivernale. Voilà.

Mais allez voir ce que mes confrères bloguers ont trouvé comme bancs publics:

Le-Chroniqueur, Viviane, La Flaneuse, Frankonorsk, Manola, Hugo, Mérantaise, Surfanna, Aparça , L'azimutée, Céline in Paris, La Madame, Frédéric, Cherrybee, Vanilla, Carnets d'Images, Stephane08, La Godiche, Un jour-Montreal, Thib, Dorydee, Kyn, Shandara, Urbamedia, Karrijini, M, A&G, Mamysoren, Laurabreizh, Aurélie, Dr.CaSo, Onee-Chan, Boopalicious, Une niçoise, Clem et Chat, Titem, Le Mag à lire, Laure, Lhise, Belbe, Tam, Florian, Jen et dam, hibiscus, floflo, Alice, Guillaume, Isabelle, Cekoline, Ines meralda, Marion, Le Loutron Glouton, Anne, Noon, Anne Laure T, Doréus en Alberta, The Mouse, Stéphie & les Cacahuètes, Françoise Notfar, Bestofava, Ava, Gilsoub, Muni57, Fabienne, Sébastien, Nora, Alex, La Parigina, Ori, Filamots, Les voyages de Seth et Lise, Caro, Agnès, Niwatori, Céline, Alexanne, M'dameJo, Celiano, lesegarten, Xavier Mohr, magda627, Cathy Brocard, Jean WILMOTTE, Clara, Caroline, blogoth67, Cindy Chou, Lauriane, Lucile et Rod, Galinette, Olivier, Glose, Marie, 4 petits suisses dans un bol de riz, Emma, M.C.O, Claude, Nathalie, Meyilo, La Papote, Sephiraph, Rene paul henry, Cynthia, Sprout©h, LE BOA BLEU , Carole In England, Terhi, Sinuaisons, Nomade57, Doremi, Gizeh, Edegan, E, Calamity Scrap, François, Tambour Major, El, Aude, le via carmina, Maureen, La Fille de l'Air, Babou, Où trouver à Montréal? , Champagne, Mandy, Krn, florianL, 100driiine.

Vous désirez participer à La Photo du Mois ? Rien de plus simple : connectez-vous sur Facebook et rejoignez-nous. Une question ? Contactez Olivier.

My voice on the radio

I received some good news today, in fact great news, the kind of great news that happen when one stops expecting them. I used to take acting lessons, not so long ago (and I hope I will in the future). At the end of my second course I took, we got our plays recorded for the local radio, for an aired performance at an undetermined time. I worked really hard to get the character right, this cynical, bitter old man with a raspy voice (my secret was peanut butter). So well, after months and months of delays, of dead silence from the school and the radio station, of some vague emails with nothing to tell, of pretty much bitterness and despair to see (well, hear) the performances, at last I got the news today: it WILL be aired. On January the 1st 2012, between 8 and 10 GMT. New Year. For the first time in a long, long while, I will have an audience, however modest. And for the very first time I think my family will be able to listen to me performing. About time. It will be a good omen for things to come.

Le trèma

Ah, les petites misères et bonheurs de ce monde virtuel! Pendant un certain temps, mon clavier Qwert Yuiop déconnait sérieusement: je ne puvais pas taper de "ë". Le e trèma ne fonctionnait pas, alors je devais m'en remettre à faire Copier/Coller à chaque fois que je voulais taper Noël, laïcité, etc. Je ne sais pas ce qui est arrivé, mais soudainement le clavier a réappris à taper le trèma, alors je peux taper ë comme dans Noël, ï comme dans laïcité, ä comme dans Händel (l'épellation allemande). Pas de quoi me rendre fou de joie, mais c'est quand même pratique quand on blogue.

Hoping for Doomsday

Well, I am hoping for some kind of Doomasday anyway. It does not take much for Doomsday to come in winter here, as I sadly know too well. but this year, as I am stuck in England anyway, it might as well come: I want it to snow. A lot. Now that is what they have been announcing, what they are announcing now as I am typing this: severe wintery weather. It rained a lot last night, today it was warm in the morning, then it got colder during the day. There were dark clouds, heavy with... rain? Snow? I don't know, the winter storm they have been announcing, that I was hoping, never really materialised.

Maybe I am tempting Fate. Maybe I should not hope for severe weather and a real winter here. Yet, it would be darn ironic that now that I know I will spend Christmas here and there is no snow, while there was plenty last year. Maybe I just want to laugh at the way they deal with winter here, with all my Northerner's pride (arrogance?). Maybe I just want to live winter as it should be, to enjoy it as it should be: cold, windy, snowy. I enjoy more a season when it is seasonal. In any case, if Doomsday comes, I am prepared.

Je veux courir la Chasse-Galerie

Que je ne puisse pas passer les Fêtes chez moi au Québec pour une troisième (une troisième!) année consécutive (une troisième! je n'en reviens pas), hé bien ça suce. Sérieusement. Je me suis mis à penser à la légende de la Chasse-Galerie, que j'ai étudiée à l'université. Vous pourrez lire une version de la légende ici. J'aurais bien besoin de ça: un voyage d'une nuit, qui me permettrait de passer Noël en famille. Le canot volant, c'est un véhicule plus fiable qu'un avion, du moins en hiver. Bien sûr, il faudrait que je fasse un pacte avec le diable et risque une éternité en Enfer. C'est quand même moins pire qu'un mois de décembre anglais sans neige...

Bien sûr, il me fallait que je mette ici une image promotionnelle de La Maudite d'Unibroue. Dans ses belles années, Unibroue a fait la promotion du folklore québécois tout en faisant la promotion de ses bières. Et l'aventure Chasse-Galerie étant sous bien des versions sans doute un rêve éthilique, l'ivresse faisant croire aux bûcherons qu'ils voyagent dans les airs, l'image ci-dessus est fort appropriée.

Bond girls I admire

I didn't know what to blog about tonight, but fate or chance has chosen for me. So after blogging about my own republican feelings in French, I was reading about Republicanism in the UK on Wikipedia and I discovered that Honor Blackman is a republican. She even declined a CBE. Now that takes guts and principle. Honor Blackman, aka Pussy Galore in Goldfinger.  That made my evening.

Bond girls have often a bad reputation, but I always thought that the classic ones, the Fleming characters, were certainly well rounded, well defined female characters, with genuine depth. The early ones were certainly like this and played by admirable actresses. Diana Rigg is of course an amazing actress recognised as such who was already established when she became a Bond Girl (and what an entrance she had in the series, heck, what an exit too). I admire Diana Rigg as an actress (little side note: she is my dad's favourite actress because of her role of Emma Peel in The Avengers). I also admire Joanna Lumley, who had a much smaller role in On Her Majesty's Secret Service. Well, maybe not admire as much as really, really like her. She is a cat lover, which is good enough in my book. I know she did also an amazing work for the Gurkha veterans. But it is as a cat lover that I connect to her.

That said, I raise my hat to Honor Blackman tonight. She shows that one does not need a medal or a title to be someone. Honor Blackman is an underrated actress, she is also a great, great, great person.

Lèse-majesté et sédition

Deux choses m'ont fait penser au billet que je vais écrire. D'abord la (courte) chronique de Sophie Durocher sur la couverture médiatique franchement obséquieuse et insignifiante des médias canadiens envers Kate et William. Je l'avais déploré ici.  Ensuite, le portrait chinois que j'avais fait de moi et les dix questions que j'avais demandées aux bloguers tagués. Parmi elles, je demandais ce qu'elles seraient si elles étaient un crime. En fait, je faisais un peu de projection, car je pensais au crime que je serais moi: la lèse-majesté ou la sédition. Pas que j'aie commis un de ces deux crimes ou que j'aie une propension à la violence, mais étant républicain, je suis forcément un brin séditieux lorsque je m'exprime sur la place de la monarchie et je commets de facto un crime de lèse-majesté quand je me moque de la Reine et de ses descendants. Il paraîtrait même que le républicanisme est toujours techniquement criminel ici.

Tourtière (the gastronomical homesick post)

I am writing this post in English, as my francophone readers know about my regional (rerional as we pronounce it in the Saguenay region) pride about this dish, maybe the single one reason why I don't think I can ever become vegetarian. I have decided to write this post in English so hopefully I can have peple discover this delicious, unique, decadent, hearty pie. I am talking about the tourtière, which is the regional dish of Saguenay Lac-St-Jean where I come from. It is out pride and the thing I look most forward to when I go home. In fact, a trip home is not quite right if I don't eat some tourtière.

The tourtière is wrongly considered by Quebeckers outside my home as a meat pie (a pork pie). You can hear more about the controversy here. You know very much where I stand, I am a purist when it comes to tourtière: a meat pie is a plain meat pie, mince meat (pork) in a dough. Tourtière is an entirely different meal. In fact, it is much more elaborate than any pie you find in Western civilisation: you need diced potatoes, various red meats, at least a bit of venison (partridge, hare, rabbit, moose, deer), onion, all this wrapped in dough. And it has to be huge. A tourtière is not a small: it has to be in a big cooking/baking dish. One cannot eat one tourtière by himself/herself. It has to be eaten with many people, friends and family. Tourtière is, well, the most undignified looking gastronomical dish, but the most delicious and the friendlier, the most communal. It is hearty and primitive (in fact its origins date back to the Middle Ages). Because of the quantity of venison in it and the variety of its source, you can never really have two tourtières that taste the same.

Tourtière is eaten with a lot of red wine, or with some darkish beeron the side (if you really need to drink something non alcoholic try Coca Cola). It is better eaten on a cold day, either in autumn or winter. A cold day especially. Or at least a cool one. it is often eaten during Christmastime, in some families replacing the turkey. If you need something on the side, a coleslaw or beetroots (like we have with cottage pies/pâtés chinois). As a child, I didn't like it all that much. I don't know why it grew on me like this, almost in the same time I learned to love alcohol. You can find the family recipe here. I secretly hope that some of you will try it. One can dream.

Ce qu'il fait froid à l'intérieur

J'allais écrire: "C'qui fait frette ici d'dans", mais les expressions québécoises n'ont sans doute pas leur place pour décrire une réalité climatique et architecturale anglaise. Enfin bref: on gèle dans l'appartement, même si c'est un grenier et qu'en théorie la température devrait y être plus chaude qu'ailleurs dans le bâtiment. Mais c'est sans compte l'hiver anglais, avec son humidité qui pénètre tout, surtout les bâtiments mal isolés. Le chauffage en hiver, c'est une vue de l'esprit ici. Donc, je râle. Mais au moins, j'apprécie plus mes vêtements chauds.

Being called "Sir"

It happens every day, but sometimes I notice it more than others. Like that time when I bought my Friday treat.When I used to work in a school, I didn't notice it at all, maybe because of the age difference between me and the pupils. Today I stopped at an open air comic books stand in an open air market and the guy there, only marginally younger than me (I am in my thirties, but not over the first half of my thirties yet), a geek of course, called me "Sir". As in "Can I help you sir?". It struck me: I am not a young man, not a kid, I am a grown up and I get called sir. Sometimes I long for the time when the owner of  La Binerie Mont-Royal called me "young man" every time I was stopping for lunch there. Anyway, the geek did help me, he was quite knowledgeable as geeks in uderpaid jobs usually are. Still, I am just as much a geek as he is, about the same age, yet I look like a sir now.

Question existentielle (92)

C'est une question assez semblable à la question 91:

-Quel est le meilleur livre de chevet?

This Friday's sandwich treat

This is another post about sandwiches, more precisely about the sandwiches I have every Friday. I am turning this non event that is my Friday lunch into a food chronicle. But I discovered that I look forward to my Friday lunch almost as much as I look forward to the weekend since I discovered that sandwich shop.

So last week I couldn't enjoy my weekly sandwich. But this week I got there on time, early enough in the afternoon so the shop was still open but late enough so I could be hungry. On the menu: smoked salmon baguette, with horseradish sauce (something that has been recommended when I first ordered smoked salmon baguette), salad (lettuce, tomaties, cucumber, red onion), a bit of lemon juice, salt, pepper. On the side: salted cashew nuts. To drink: Coca Cola. So the lunch was a nice mix of predictable and unorthodox.

I will not do a critique, only make a few observations: horseradish sauce is actuallty delicious, who would have thought. After a decade in this country, I am always happily surprised to discover that the food can be so good here. I think a part of me keeps a prejudice against British food just to get it crushed by a new gastronomical discovery. The staff was friendly enough, although the guys I saw were not as outstandingly nice like the first time I went. And what a treat in the end! It has become a Friday necessity.

Réhabiliter la laïcité

Je reviens brièvement sur mon billet d'hier. Le texte de l'autre père de famille (en quoi être père de deux fillettes donne en quoi que ce soit une crédibilité à ce que l'on va dire sur la place de la religion dans l'espace public?) m'avait franchement découragé, de même que sa popularité. Mais l'éditorial de Mario Roy aujourd'hui m'a réconcilié avec la vie intellectuelle québécoise. Il n'y a pas que des cons qui écrivent à La (grosse) Presse. Oh que ça fait du bien de lire qu'il n'y a pas adéquation entre athéisme et laïcité! (On peut vouloir la séparation de l'Église et de l'État sans être incroyant). À le lire, j'en suis même revenu sur mon idée première: la place d'une crèche n'estsans doute pas à l'hôtel de ville. Il y a bien encore assez d'églises au Québec pour montrer des crèches! Maintenant, si les bondieusards voulaient bien nous laisser célébrer Noël en toute impiété...

This the season to be reading

I try to read as much as I can during the Christmas season (I cannot really say Christmas holidays this year as I will not get much of them). I try as much as I can to read "seasonal". Books about Christmas, books I associate with Christmas, but also books set during Christmastime. I was lucky recently with Nick's Trip recently, but for me the quintessential Christmas novel is maybe On Her Majesty's Secret Service, which I read in December 2006.

I find it the perfect Christmas novel not only because it is set during Christmastime and in the Swiss Alps, but because the plot and the season blend together perfectly. You have Blofeld as the Satan/Bogeyman of the Bond world, trying to destroy in this time of abundance and excesses European food supplies: crop, poultry, etc. You have Blofeld wanting to gain a title of nobility, a sort of illegitimate king jealous of his power like Herod was in the Gospel (if not in history). You have Eros and Thanatos struggling over the novel, incessently (the Nativity story is in a way the story of a struggle between death and life, with the birth of Jesus and the massacre of the innocents both sides of the same coin), Bond finally committing himself in a monogamous relationship yet losing his bride straight after his wedding, forced to carry on his mission on Her Majesty's Secret Service. I enjoy the movie all right (it is among my Christmas movies, unsurprisingly), but I much prefer the book. I am reading at the moment another Bond novel, it is already enjoyable, but I wonder if it holds a candle to On Her Majesty's Secret Service, which is maybe my favourite. I might read it again next year.

La laïcité au banc des accusés

Une autre controverse entourant Noël sévit sur le Québec récemment: la suppression d'une crèche à l'hôtel de Ville de Ville Mont-Royal. Réagissant à la controverse, un certain Aubert Martin a écrit un texte publié dans La Presse, que j'ai lu durant mon heure de lunch. Indigeste, c'est le moins qu'on puisse dire et pleins de raisonnements fallacieux. Je ne veux pas varger sur un simple citoyen qui, contrairement disons à un cardinal, n'est pas un personnage public. Cela dit, il a pris la parole dans un débat public, il a fait publier son texte dans un journal, le texte a été le plus populaire dans la section Débats de Cyberpresse, alors je me permets de débattre. Et en tant qu'humaniste athée et laïque, je me sens un peu interpellé par le chapelet d'attaques ad hominem d'un père de famille bondieusard.

Ce n'est pas à la demande des athées que l'on a enlevé la crèche à Ville Mont-Royal: c'est pour accomoder les tenants d'autres religions. C'est une décision profondément absurde, une décision stupide provoquée par une frilosité multiculturelle bien canadienne. Mais ce n'est pas mon problème. Noël est une fête dont les origines remontent à bien avant le christianisme, mais il serait futile de renier l'apport des mythes chrétiens (oui, la Nativité est un mythe) à l'imagerie et même au sens de la fête. Ca va de soi. Je suis donc pour la présence de la crèche à peu près partout durant le Temps des Fêtes: elle est un ajout chrétien à une fête qui ne l'a jamais complètement été. Je ne peux parler qu'en mon nom, mais je ne pense pas que bien des athées aient une dent contre la crèche, contre les cantiques de Noël, etc. Au Québec ou ailleurs. Mais même si c'était le cas, la crèche en question n'a pas été enlevée à cause d'athées militants. Aubert Martin fait donc un grossier et malhonnête procès d'intention.

Personne ne veut lui enlever, à lui ou à un autre citoyen, le droit de croire. Il peut croire à tout ce qu'il veut, Dieu, Jésus, la Nativité (même si on sait maintenant que c'est une pure fabrication), et quoi encore. Il peut exprimer sa foi en public. Mais il ne peut pas, en tout cas ne devrait pas, l'imposer dans les institutions publiques. Nos élus ne devraient pas soumettre leur fonction à un Dieu hypothétique ni faire la promotion de leurs croyances. Les enseignants ne devraient pas faire la promotion de leur foi, ni enseigner des mythes comme le Créationnisme comme si c'étaient des faits. Et cela dit, la liberté d'expression n'est pas l'impunité d'expression: si un croyant croit, alors je me permets de lui demander pourquoi, surtout s'il fait la promotion de sa foi en public, surtout s'il utilise sa foi pour baser son opinion sur, disons, les homosexuels, les femmes, les gens comme moi qui ne croient pas.

J'espère aussi ne pas être le seul à avoir remarqué la fausse perception de Monsieur Martin en ce qui concerne les athées: nous ne prétendons pas que Dieu n'existe pas, nous ne croyons pas en une non croyance. Nous rejetons l'affirmation que Dieu existe, parce qu'il n'y a pas de preuve de son existence, encore moins, si jamais il existe, de ses intentions. Attaques ad hominem, non sequitur, utilisation d'un mot inexistant ("laïciste"?), mélange des genres et procès d'intention... Je disais indigeste, mais je dirais aussi indigne de publication.

The French Connection (geeky anecdote)

Last Saturday, I had a craving for junk food (Wimpy) and I was in the mood to watch The French Connection. I watched the movie only once, about ten years ago, but recently I really want to watch it again. Maybe because it is set during Christmastime, because I have been reading on organised crime and it is a movie based on a true story. Anyway, I was in the mood to munch a big bad quaterpound with cheese, chips, Coca Cola while watching a classic movie. So I stopped at the local Blockbuster, looked for the movie in the renting section, the sale section, everywhere, I couldn't find it. I asked one of the staff members if he had it. He was tall and big, looking very geeky, and he was a geek: he actually knew the movie I was referring to. Not only this, he knew it had been released in DVDs and Blue Rays, he had seen it and it was "a fantastic movie". But unfortunately it was not available there.

That said, this little non-event, or frustrating non-event gave me hope in civilisation. That a man in such a low-paid, thankless job knew his movie classics and could talk about them with enthusiasm is definitely a sign that not everything is lost and that those movies will not be forgotten. It also shows that geeks are actually cool, knowledgeable creatures, in spite of their social ineptitude. And I count myself among them, without any shame. It also inspired me to put The French Connection on my Christmas gift list. With any luck I will be watching it on Christmas Day. My Christmas season movies may seem rather strange (you can read more about it here), but I think The French Connection fits the season perfectly. So I have decided to put the trailer here. It is a bit out of sync, but it is still enjoyable.

Le Père Noël et moi

Cette photo a été prise en Bretagne, en 2009. Je voulais la publier ici depuis un bout de temps, mais je ne savais pas trop quel sujet faire accompagner la photo. Okay, oui, bien sûr: le Père Noël, mais je veux dire l'angle pour aborder ledit sujet. Et puis ça m'est venu: les différentes incarnations du Père Noël. Je ne parle pas ici de tous les donneurs de cadeaux de l'histoire de Noël (Jésus enfant, la Befana, Saint Nicolas), mais plutôt sur mes différentes expériences avec le vieillard à barbe blanche.

Je me rappelle quand j'ai vraiment cessé de croire au Père Noël: en deuxième année quand mon enseignante nous dit carrément qu'il n'existait pas et nous raconta l'histoire de Saint Nicolas (pas cette histoire, hélas). Je me rappelle vaguement de l'histoire abracadabrante qu'elle avait inventée, tellement bête qu'elle aurait pu nous laisser y croire. Surtout qu'avec le récit de Nativité, auquel elle croyait sans doute dur comme fer et surtout que l'on croyait tous, ce n'est pas comme si on n'était pas des enfants profondément imbibés de mythes et de fabulations. Donc, je n'y croyais déjà plus lorsque je l'ai "rencontré", une fois à Noël chez ma grand-mère et une fois à Noël chez nous. Je ne sais plus qui l'a incarné chez ma grand-mère, mais chez nous c'était un cousin plus vieux du côté de mon père, tellement peu crédible que je l'avais reconnu tout de suite.

Ah oui, et il y avait tous ces Pères Noëls en décoration que l'on personnalisait (celui-ci que je considérais comme "le vrai"), celui en plastique que l'on appelair "Le Père Noël souple et mince", un autre qui avait une barre en plastique accrochée dans le c** et qui avait une expression ma foi exhubérante. Je me rappelle aussi à l'adolescence un ami qui est allé offrir une "puff" de cigarette au Père Noël d'un centre d'achat. Celui-ci a répondu, jovial et dans son personnage, que le Père Noël ne fume pas parce qu'il est parfait. Ce n'est même pas vrai: traditionnellement il fume la pipe.

Will it snow?

It snowed recently in certain parts of the country, which caused the usual disruption. It has not snowed here yet, but it snowed in the Midlands and this is getting closer and closer.And it smells of snow, every day more and more. So I was longing for snow, but now I can hope that I will see some here. I want it to snow here, I don't mind the disruption this year, as it cannot really disrupt me. I just want to snuggle up in a blanket and read a book while it snows outside. And walk in it.

La légende de Saint Nicolas

C'est aujourd'hui la Saint-Nicolas. Peu célébrée ici, je l'associe à la Légende de Saint Nicolas, cette histoire de méchant boucher qui allait sans doute devenir le Père Fouettard. Comme j'ai déjà blogué là-dessus, je serai bref. Vous trouverez sur ce blogue deux interprétations de la chanson qui me donne encore des frissons d'angoisse, ici et ici. J'ai trouvé ce film d'animation sur la légende qui est fort sympa, m[eme si elle est sinistre, alors je le mets ici.

Mozart to commemorate Mozart

As Mozart's Girl reminded me today (I need her to remind me as I am rubbish with remembering dates), it is the 220th anniversary of Mozart's death. As I commented on her own post, it is fitting that he died in December, as he became as a composer a Christ-like figure (and to me a much worthier Christ than Jesus, but that is for another post), with the fitting middle name of Amadeus. Wolfgang was also fitting enough, has he had something of the wildness of the animal. He died at 35, which will be my age next year. I think how little I have done so far in my life and on how much he did. He composed the greatest music, my favourite opera (maybe the greatest opera ever), he did all this and he never reached 40.

So how do one commemorate Mozart? By listening to Mozart of course. Or by singing it, which I might do tonight. I decided to put here his Kyrie from his Great Mass in C Minor (which incidentally I already put on this blog years ago) I thought the Requiem would have been too obvious.That said, I will place here the version used in the soundtrack of Amadeus. I may never sing the role of Don Giovanni on stage, but I do hope that I will play the character Salieri one day.

Lettre d'un français au Québec

Il n'y a pas de neige ici (quoique ça s'en vient, il semblerait), mais l'hiver est bien arrivé, en tout cas l'hiver gris anglais. Il fait froid en tout cas, de ce froid humide bien pire que les froids à pierre fendre du Québec. Un cousin a publié sur Facebook ce lien, sur le journal d'un (faux) Français lors de sa première année au Québec. La blague ne date pas d'hier, semble-t-il, je crois que je l'ai déjà lue il y a une décennie ou à peu près, mais c'est tellement authentique que je la reproduis ici pour mes lecteurs expatriés, ou qui connaissent des Français au Québec.

A (geeky) confession about Christmas carols

I know, I blogged about it before, but I have to mention it again for another post, in a complete rewrite of the first one two years ago: I associate Christmas carols with Dungeons & Dragons. Read: it puts me in the mood to play, I think also it is an excellent background music when we play. Of course, it depends of the particular interpretation. I wouldn't put Bing Crosby in the background, obviously. But there is just something about many Christmas carols that are I guess pseudo-medieval, and there is something about the role playing game that fits winter. The Viking legends that both Christmas and D&Dr feed from probably play an important role into this association. Maybe it is only because I only play D&Dr at Christmas now. When I can actually get home...

This is a drawing from Larry Elmore and it is called Avalyne the Life giver. I have no idea if it was drawn for a story or if it is just a title. I just love it since I first saw it in a Monstrous Compendium. A snowy winter day in a Nordic country, pine trees in the background, an evil giant vaguely Krampus looking (more on the darker side of Christmas here), death and life (heck, death and rebirth) on display, an angelic looking cleric, this is a picture for the season. We played similar scenes over and over again during our games.

So when I listen to Jessye Norman singing O come, O come Emmanuel in Christmastide, I always imagine our characters setting off for a journey on a snowy wintery day. La marche des rois (listen to it here) is also a song for those journeys our characters take, while Coventry Carol is for when they warm their bones by the fire in the night, eating a grub. I have decided to out here Loreena McKennitt's take on Veni, Veni Emmanuel in A Midwinter Night's Dream. Looking at some Youtube videos with the song, this one in particular, I can see I am not the only one making this association.

Une photo hivernale

Je faisais le tour des photos que j'avais reçu de mon père par le passé dans ma boîte de courriel. J'ai trouvé celle-ci, d'une tourterelle (je crois) dans une mangeoire, elle date de février 2007 et a bien sûr été prise à Chicoutimi. Puisque jusqu'ici la neige ne vient pas à moi, j'en mettrai donc sur ce blogue. Une tourterelle, c'est comme les "two turtle doves" de la chanson. Il n'y a pas de traduction en français de celle-là, pas à ce que je sache en tout cas. En fait si, il y a une adaptation, ou alors une chanson ayant la même origine, mais elle est complètement différente, quoique l'on peut facilement voir les similarités. Enfin bref, ça n'a pas d'importance: une tourterelle qui mange un jour d'hiver enneigé, ça me calme un peu du mal du pays.

Midnight atmosphere

I stayed up late last night, very late even for a Saturday. I also stayed in, believe it or not. I guess I wanted to be a night owl again, or I felt compelled to get back to my normal, nocturnal self again. Or maybe it was the Coca Cola I had in the late evening, I don't know.

But I rediscovered how night life, even from the inside is so atmospheric. New York is called the city that never sleeps, but this is true of many big cities, and also small town and even villages. The cats fighting, the cars screeching, people walking in the street, it was all heightened by the time of night. A December night is often quieter, but the noises you hear just sound more, they are more perceptible. I was reading a crime novel (this one) set in Washington D.C. It enhanced the experience.I think that's why many artists work better at night.

Question existentielle (91)

Une question existentielle à portée hautement intellectuelle:

-Indépendamment de la qualité de l'oeuvre, quel est le meilleur titre de roman que vous avez jamais lu?

At least there's the lights

I went out tonight to buy something at Wimpy. I thought that since I did not have a sandwich treat yesterday, I miught as well have one tonight. Something struck me as I was walking in the street: December and winter are very grey without the snow. But at least there are the Christmas lights. Even the small and unimpressive ones on display above the almost empty main street here gave the place a bit of charm, a bit of festive spirit.

Je songe à acheter une crèche

Oui, je sais, ironique de la part d'un athée, mais j'aime les crèches de Noël. L'ennui, c'est de trouver la bonne. Mon père  avait importé ses figurines d'Italie, dans le temps. Cette photo a été prise en Bretagne en 2009. Pas aussi bien que celle que l'on a à Chicoutimi, mais quand même. Autre fait à noter: les branches de sapin qui font l'étable, c'est quand même bien pensé.

Je ne pense pas trouver quelque chose d'aussi bien ici et de toute façon même si je trouvais une crèche comme ça elle me coûterait une beurrée. J'ai vu ici des calendriers de l'Avent avec des figurines de la crèche en papier, je vais peut-être acheter ça.

The darker side of Christmas

Because there is a darker, ghoulish, creepy side to Christmas. Among the many books I am reading at the moment, I have this one, Christmas Curiosities, last year's Christmas present from my brother. We often forget that Christmas in many ways was a "dark" holiday, that was much closer to my beloved Halloween. Pagan beliefs and traditions are still deeply rooted in it , and with it supernatural, monsters, ghosts, etc. Most of Western Christmas imagery is rooted in Nordic legends. In Victorian times, Christmas was the season of ghost stories (A Christmas Carol belongs to this tradition). In Québec, we have the legend of the Chasse-Galerie, a cautionary Christmas tale that has very sinister tones.

But even the genuinely Christian side of Christmas is not devoid of a sinister tradition: who does not shiver thinking about the Massacre of the Innocents? And there is also The Legend of Saint Nicholas, which I blogged about before and which I might rewrite here, the same way I did with The Legend of Jack O'Lantern.  The legend of the evil butcher was maybe at the origin of the Père Fouettard, Krampus and other sinister Christmas bogeymen. So I am reading this book with fascination. I love to go back to the primitive roots of Christmas, to its darkness that makes us appreciate its lights even more.

Le Noël aseptisé des fonctionnaires

C'est ce genre de nouvelles qui vous scie les jambes tellement elle est absurde, tellement l'intention derrière la décision prise est grotesque, stupide, profondément frileuse, misérable, lâche, méprisable... Enfin bref, j'ai lu aujourd'hui que la direction de Service Canada interdit purement et simplement les décorations de Noël dans leur édifice de Montréal. Afin de ménager les sensibilités religieuses. Je suis tombé en bas de ma chaise en lisant cela. Le multicultiralisme canadian m'a toujours profondément agacé, mais ce genre de manifestation-là du multiculturalisme m'agace sans doute encore plus que tout. Je suis profondément incroyant et mon intérêt pour le temps des Fêtes n'a rien de religieux. Mais justement: Noël est une fête qui dépasse de loin les particularités religieuses, ses manifestations sont en général profanes de toute façon et puis peu importe l'étiquette chrétienne que l'on donne à une fête dont les origines datent de bien avant le christianisme, ça reste une fête occidentale centrale et on ne devrait pas empêcher les gens d'avoir un esprit festif. J'imagine qu'il y a des gâcheurs de fête pour toutes les célébrations. C'est tout de même scandaleux de vouloir gâcher le plaisir des autres.