MR. TURNER

"When I peruse the mirror, I see a gargoyle"--Mr. Turner

I found the Kevin Brownlow documentary Hollywood on Youtube, about silent movies in America.  I'm now watching it for the third time.

Yesterday I had lunch with the Aspergers Meetup. (Evie organized it.) We went to the Old Spaghetti Factory, where I had spaghetti with the spicy meat sauce.  They have nice hot bread rolls.

Then I went to the Lightbox to see Mike Leigh's Mr. Turner.  I was supposed to see it with a Movie Meetup group, but couldn't find them.  It turned out that they were meeting in the Member's Lounge, and I'm not even a member!

The movie was vivid but a bit too long.  Timothy Spall's Turner was something of a beast. (He seemed to have Asperger's Syndrome.) They were talking about Turner in the National Gallery documentary I saw the other day.  Of course, he anticipated the French impressionists.

Dinner was Kentucky Fried Chicken.  They're trying to encourage feedback through a sweepstakes whose grand prize is a year of Free KFC!  Years ago Moira knew somebody who lived on KFC for a whole year.

NATIONAL GALLERY

Wednesday was unusually mild.  I walked to Sobey's to get another vanilla-flavored Slice Cream (wince!).  The last one I put into the freezer with the wrong side up, and the freezer wasn't cold enough so it melted somewhat into a mess.

Donald couldn't make it for Christmas dinner yesterday. (Big workload at The Globe and Mail!) But we'll save the plum pudding for when he comes.  The turkey was a bit undercooked--Father thinks they didn't drain the blood sufficiently--so we put some of it into the microwave.

Today I saw Frederick Wiseman's three-hour documentary National Gallery at its first screening at the Bloor. (I told them,  "If you screen any Wiseman films, I'm already there!") Despite having visited that London museum a lot, I was still amazed.  

I'm especially impressed by the restorers. (In one scene you can see a partly restored painting, and the before-after difference is visible.) Their job is a holy mission, the present preserving the past for the future in a never-ending Manichean struggle with time.  Even bad restorers deserve credit for trying!

I've finally quit the Facebook games Megapolis and Tribez.  They just weren't worth the time to me any more.

Lunch with Bev

Today I had lunch with Bev from my Aspergers Meetup group at the Thai restaurant Spring Rolls near Eglinton station. (I had the spicy chicken fried rice.  Later dinner was fried rice with shrimp, but I didn't mind the repetition.) We had a good time:  Bev said "We've found our..." but couldn't finish the sentence, so I suggested "...our groove," which she thought the right word.  She suggested we see that documentary about the guy who introduced yoga in America when it returns to the Bloor.

Sunday I finished Captains and the Kings.  I said to Father, "It's time for Perry King to be assassinated," a couple of seconds before he was. (I should be writing these things!) Now I'm watching another miniseries for what must be the fifth time:  Rich Man, Poor Man is my Christmas treat.  Because it's Christmas time, I've also started playing Candy Crush Saga and Pet Rescue Saga again.  I enjoy them enough that I'd be risking addiction if I played them at any other time!

I've entered the home stretch of Moby-Dick.  I just noticed that the plot doesn't really kick in until about four-fifths of the way through, when Ahab confronts Starbuck over whether to stop to fix the leaking barrels.  It's several books in one:  a few chapters even read as dialogue in a play!  I can well believe that the book's few contemporary readers couldn't make head or tail of it.

CAPTAINS AND THE KINGS

"Before you take off all my clothes, I have one thing to ask." "Yes?" "Take off yours"--sizzling romantic dialogue in Captains and the Kings

Monday night I went to a Mathematics Meetup at the Rubikloud Industries office near King station.  We talked about group theory, which I recall studying at college thirty years ago.  I won't be able to attend often, since it's on the same night as choir practice, but it's an interesting group.

Thursday night I went to see a documentary at the Bloor about people staying in Antarctica through the winter (our summer), with the Movie Meetup group.  I was careless enough to get popcorn, and got sick. (When I upgraded my Bloor membership to the silver level, they threw in about nine free popcorns.)

Thursday after seeing Dr. Hassan I went to North York Centre library and borrowed the DVD of Captains and the Kings, a 1976 miniseries that was part of NBC's Best Sellers, a spectacularly unsuccessful attempt to repeat the success of Rich Man, Poor Man.  As a young Irish immigrant becoming a big robber baron in the Civil War era, Richard Jordan is a remarkably colourless lead, though Charles Durning has some life. (Durning could have used a better agent:  he was always making movies like The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas!)

I Wanna Bedtime Story

Yesterday I went to the Met telecast of Wagner's Meistersinger.  I was running late and skipped breakfast.  But I got a headache and had to leave early. (In hindsight, I should have come late and only seen the second half.) The opera doesn't have much action; it's more of a debate about art set to music.

This afternoon was ROLT, focusing on children's writing as usual in December.  (The event was titled I Wanna Bedtime Story.) Twenty people said they were coming, I made a reservation for eight, and five people showed up.  I read a chapter from Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer in which a romantic meeting with Becky Thatcher turns to heartbreak; a poem from Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory about how books are better than TV; a passage from near the end of the second Harry Potter book where Harry says that he and Voldemort have a lot in common, and Dumbledore replies that we're defined not by our talents but by our choices; and a chapter from Laura Ingalls Wilder's Farmer Boy (about her future husband) where the parents leave their kids alone for a week and things get out of hand.

I've started watching on Youtube a PBS documentary about Napoleon from the series Empires.  Fascinating stuff!  He hated France in his childhood, but ended up being more French than the French! (Like some Canadians become more American than the Americans.)

Vivid dreams

These days my dreams sometimes feel pretty real.  The odd thing is that they can feel so real that the inconsistencies that are a normal part of the dream world suddenly seem incomprehensible to me.  The other week in one dream I was so puzzled that I asked a stranger in the dream for help, saying, "I know longer know what's real!"

I often dream about walking up West Avenue to my Sackville home, but by the time I get there I sometimes remember that other people own the house now and I don't belong there!  In a recent dream I told someone, "I have a Ph.D., but we decided I should do Grade Five again"!

Just last night I had a dream where I was visiting the Victoria & Albert Museum of applied art in London with my friends Puitak and Gordon.  I also dreamed of Star Wars rebels being offered a political deal except they realized it was all a trick on Darth Vader's part. (Something to do with today's actual politics?)

Yesterday I went to Scotiabank and discussed segregated funds with Natalie. (There was some confusion about whether I'd been booked for an appointment with someone who wasn't there!) They don't do that on the branch level so I may go through I-trading or something like that.

Last night I went to Rose's Christmas get-together with the Non-Fiction Meetup people at Jack Astor's near the Reference Library where we usually meet.  I had a good time, telling an Iranian-Canadian called Nassy about what I'd been reading in the Classic Book Club and having an ice cream float (vanilla with cream soda) for the first time in years!

Christmas concert

Monday night was the choir's Christmas concert.  The audience was pretty big.  Then tonight we did a shorter concert at Blythwood Baptist church after joining them for Christmas dinner.  I was a few minutes from the church when I realized I'd forgotten to wear my black suit.  But Brian was also dressed casually and that made me feel better.

Sunday I visited Giuseppe again. (Part of the Bloor-Danforth line was being worked on so I took the College St. bus instead.) I showed him my art--he used to paint--and he said I have talent.

The other week I got a silver membership at the Bloor Cinema, so admission is now just $6 for me!  This afternoon I saw the documentary Hermitage Revealed, about the famous St. Petersburg art museum.  Wow!  I'll have to add that place to my bucket list.  When they made Kandinsky, they broke the mold.  And in a few weeks they'll have a documentary about London's National Gallery!

After the church concert I tried to get to the Bloor to see a documentary about the guy who introduced yoga to the west. (I don't usually see two movies on the same day, but this was its last screening for the time being.) But the subway was running slow on both lines and I clearly would have been late, so I just went home.

Impunctuality

"'I want no man on this ship,' said Starbuck, 'who is not afraid of a whale'"--Moby-Dick

These days I'm not quite as punctual as I used to be.

Saturday I was on time for the opera, at least.  I saw the latest Met production of Carmen, which was rather unsubtle, especially their handling of Zuniga. (At the end of the second act Carmen pours spirits on his head and a Gypsy is about to set him on fire as the curtain comes down.  His face is scarred when he reappears in the fourth act.)

Sunday afternoon the choir performed at a hymn sing at the United Church north of Eglinton & Bathurst.  I was late for the warmup because I couldn't find my necktie, which finally turned up under the desk.  (I would have been a bit less late if I'd waited for the bus at Eglinton West station instead of walking east to Bathurst Street, but I didn't know how long I'd have to wait.) There was also a Korean church choir singing a medley of Christmas carols in their own language.

Yesterday afternoon I was late for the memoir slam, but with a good excuse:  I stopped at Scotiabank to make an appointment with Jessica to talk about segregated funds, and had to wait a bit.  Anyway, the first subject was birthdays and I'd covered that subject when we did February.

Financial advice

Wednesday Father and I went to see a lawyer at his office just east of Eglinton station. (I had to miss my Chinese art class, which I hate to do.) He told us that the Henson trust didn't suit me and I should try putting my money into something called segregated funds, where I can put as much as $100,000.  So now it's back to Scotiabank.

I've started translating another of those Portuguese pamphlets about the lives of the saints.  The new one is about St. Philip of Neri, who came to Rome in the 16th century and befriended street children.

In the Facebook game Tribez I'm now at the stage of creating dino coasters, businesses that require a lot of polonarium but probably yield big money.  My investment in planetariums is now paying off in a big way.

In the game Forge of Empires I'm now in the early medieval stage and belong to a guild.  I've started making trade offers in the market section.  Sometimes I offer five of one good for three of another, which could give me a competitive advantage.  It's been over a week since I've been stuck with my forge points at the maximum level, unable to spend them on new developments.

MOBY-DICK

"No town-bred dandy will compare with a country-bred one--I mean a downright bumpkin dandy--a fellow that in the dog-days, will mow his two acres in buckskin gloves for fear of tanning his hands"--Moby-Dick

The other day I finished Lapham's Quarterly and started reading Herman Melville's Moby-Dick (for the second time). Melville creates a whole world, witty and a bit crazy.

Sunday I went to the Aspie Meetup at a house north of Eglinton and Kipling.  I also brought the cookies from Friday's fundraiser.  I only stayed for an hour or two because I didn't know most of the people.  Getting there was a bit of an adventure:  I took the subway to Kipling station then the bus north, and I went back by the Eglinton bus for variety. (Last night I brought the cookies to choir practice and most of them got finished.)

Yesterday was so mild that I took out my spring jacket for just a day.  But it was so windy I had to hold my hat in my hand to keep it from being blown away.  The temperature's now back to normal cold.

Tonight was the last opera rehearsal before Christmas break.  I already have much of the music memorized.  We've now started blocking the first half of Ballo.

Fundraiser

I've started watching the second season of THE WIRE, with Moira who's seen it before.  She prefers to watch it in the afternoon this time, which is convenient for me.  The second season is about union shenanigans.

Thursday I had a dental checkup.  My dentist was telling me that when she was a teenager she was in a theatre group.  She gave me a new mini-toothbrush that's useful for brushing between teeth. (She finally has her name on the clinic door!)

Last night was the opera fundraiser.  This year it was at the Blythwood Baptist Church, where we did the Christmas concert last year.  The concert was in the back room, and the chorus waited in the pews while the soloists performed.

I left the binder in my music there last December, and it was still there! (I'd always thought I left it on the subway.) It also had some memoir pieces that I hadn't blogged.  I wish I could tell Mother about this!

I'd baked gingerbread for the fundraiser Wednesday.  Afterward I got a big collection of leftovers as in earlier years.  Much of it I'll be bringing to an Aspie Meetup tomorrow.

Home fries

"I heard that if the going gets rough, your best bet is the French embassy." "Who told you that?" "The British embassy"--The Killing Fields

Saturday afternoon I saw the Met production of Verdi's Macbeth. (Nancy's acting class had another mock audition that day because she knows that doesn't interest me.) When they interviewed Anna Netrebko during the intermission, she was cracking people up in the green room.  She looks like a live wire!

Yesterday was the Classic Book Club, where we discussed The Europeans.  We decided that our next book after Moby-Dick will be Dickens' Our Mutual Friend.  I was careless enough to order the omelette with home fries and it made me sick later that day.  I've made a new resolution to stick to French toast and waffles and such.

Last night I saw Roland Joffe's The Killing Fields (for the third time) with the Classic Movie Meetup at the Imperial Pub.  It's a powerful, important movie full of telling details.  Too bad I missed a couple of minutes because those home fries were making me sick.

The cold weather has arrived.  Today I started wearing my long johns again.  I looked around for the electric heater for my room, but couldn't find it.

I finally quit the Facebook game Sunshine Bay.  I'm not sure how long I'll keep playing Tribez now that Forge of Empires is my new passion.

Vivid dreams

I've been having some vivid dreams lately.  (A few days ago I ran out of Cipralex and missed some doses, which seems to make my dreams more lively.)

The other week I dreamed of visiting New Zealand.  It was a dream I'd had before, and the place I was visiting seemed so familiar that I wasn't sure I hadn't been there in real life! (I hadn't.) And the other night I again dreamed of visiting my hometown of Sackville.  In this dream the tallest elm on York Street had been reduced to a stump.  I'd been thinking of making an elm tree in one of my future paintings, which may have had something to do with this.  And in this dream, as in some earlier ones, the local cemetery was expanding and taking up nearby space where there had been houses.  Is there some connection here between my beginning and eventual end?

I'm getting the hang of that online game Forge of Empires.  My main focus is on keeping the research going to get to higher levels of civilization, which means producing or trading for the secondary goods that'll open each improvement.  The main bottleneck is producing supplies that'll power goods production, building and military expansion, though I now have fruit trees, goats and butchery.  Conquering adjacent territory has been a low priority lately, though I'll soon return to that when my armed forces are fully developed.  

Happiness is a sad song

Yesterday was the November ROLT event.  Since this was Armistice Day, I focused on sad writing, with the title "Happiness Is a Sad Song." (That's one of those Peanuts sayings along the lines of "Happiness Is a Warm Puppy.") About twenty-five people said they were coming, I made a reservation for twelve, and seven people showed up.  It was unusually successful.

I read the Alice Munro story "Days of the Butterfly" (which I'd read in high school); the last part of the Longfellow poem Evangeline; the Whittier poem "Maud Muller" (with the famous line "The saddest words are 'what might have been'); and the Housman poem "To an Athlete Dying Young." Jane read something from the Marilyn Monroe book Conversations With Marilyn.

On the way out I left my wallet at the Victory Cafe, and only noticed after I got home.  I went back and got it just when John and Kathrine were there for dinner. (Moira wanted me to cancel my Visa card right away, but I held out.)

This afternoon I was uncharacteristically late for the memoir group, and didn't have time to write about the first subject, which was trust, but my mind drew a blank anyway.  I did get to write a whole page on the second subject, which was magazines.

In the evening I was over half an hour late for choir practice (also uncharacteristically), because I'd gone to the party for Olivia Chow volunteers at 21 Cecil St.  I only appeared there briefly, and that to see Nelson L., whom I didn't get to meet on election night.

EUROPA '51

"I'd rather be lost with them than be saved by myself"--Europa '51

The other day when I went to 2Q Video the last Borgen disc was out, so I rented Roberto Rossellini's Europa '51 and saw it tonight (for the second time). It's a moving story about a rich woman who reacts to her son's death by reaching out to the wretched and achieving a kind of sainthood.  Ingrid Bergman (then Mrs. Rossellini) gives a great performance:  I actually looked at her in a new way, something that isn't easy for movie stars.

Tuesday night at the opera we learned the small chorus part for Don Giovanni.  Beatrice had us dancing on the stage, and I did some Arthur Murray turns that really impressed her.  On the way there I slid down a slope in the rain like McNulty in a certain scene in The Wire, and got mud on my stuff. (I would have taken the steps, but they were closed off for repairs and the alternative was a pretty long detour.

Today I went to the Staples at St. Clair & Keele to find a portfolio big enough to hold my works of art without folding them.  It's going to close soon, and the place looked pretty empty.  The thing I bought turned out not to be quite big enough, so I'll try the stores that specialize in art supplies.

I made a reservation for twelve people for Sunday's ROLT event, but thirty people say they're coming!  We'll see how many actually show up, of course.

In that Tribez game on Facebook, I'm close to building the last stage of the observatory, which may open a lot of new quests in all the islands (or may not). It's something I've been working toward for quite a while!

Finishing things

"Do you always have to open graves to find girls you're interested in?"--The Mummy

"I never want to receive a present without giving something in return.  Here's a penny"--The Wolfman

I've been busy the past few days.  Today I finally finished digging up the potatoes, despite the drizzle which made the soil stick to the spuds. (It was like that scene in the Tess of the D'Urbervilles movie where they were digging potatoes in really miserable weather!) We had a pretty good haul, though only a few were really big.  I've also been digging through the roots in the planter soil, which is good enough to expand the garden next year.

Today I also finished Henry James' The Europeans.  I fear I didn't pay enough attention at times as I was reading it.  It was brave of James Ivory to make it into a movie:  it's hardly the most cinematic of books.

Wednesday I went to a double bill of The Mummy and The Wolfman.  The latter movie had a lot of film nourish effects.

Thursday night I had to Meetup events overlapping.  I went to the Art Meetup early, and fortunately I worked pretty quick, producing a picture with three trees (a peach tree, a fir and a poplar), with grass on the bottom and the sun, clouds and a mountain in the background.  I left early enough that I was practically on time for the non-fiction book club, where we discussed Paris 1919.  There were some digressions involving the Cold War and Israel.

Election day

Yesterday I went to the Hellenic Home and voted in the morning. (It gave me a reason to get up earlier.) Personally, I think that urging people to vote, without telling them whom to vote for, is lame.  If people don't care, they don't care.

At choir practice that night, we did "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year," which came out in 1963 along with "Do You Hear What I Hear?":  the last two classic Christmas songs. (No, I'm not counting "Do They Know It's Christmas?" or "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.") I have to admit it's a pretty good song.  At one point the sopranos and basses strike a note of dissonance, which makes me uncomfortable.  Even if I'm singing it right, it doesn't feel right to me.

During a break in the middle of choir practice I went out into the hall and saw a TV set that told me John Tory had been elected mayor.  Someone said that Olivia Chow was a poor debater, but I think it's more that people just wouldn't listen to her.  I have a feeling that people had their minds made up before the first debate. That Toronto Sun cartoon showing her trying to ride on her late husband's coattails was as unfair as it was witless.

After choir practice, I tried to make a belated appearance at  Chow's post-election gathering, but I couldn't find the place.  It turns out that I thought it was on Dundas St. East, when it was actually on Dundas St. West!

Today I made a start on harvesting the potatoes in the garden.  I've already found a couple of nice big ones.  And I began a new computer game called Forge of Empires. (I'm a sucker for games where you start with a primitive village and gradually turn it into a modern city.)

Scrabble Meetup

Last night I went to a new Scrabble Meetup at Grace's house.  I picked up a "Z" tile near the end of my first game--uh-oh Spaghetti O's!--but I managed to place it on a double score and won!  For my second game we didn't keep score, and I'm just as happy doing things that way.

We also had a potluck dinner. (I brought a cinnamon ring.) Someone brought fettuccine with pesto sauce, and that was my favourite.  I hope we have more of these events!

Yesterday I also had a good day at the acting class.  I figured out how to avoid repetition in the singing exercise, by moving my arms around in a lot of different ways.  We did a lot of improvisation, and I came up with some very original stuff. (I was telling my girlfriend that I planned to blow up the Washington Monument and leave a big insurance policy in her name.)

At the Chinese art class today we did plum blossoms and grapes.  With the grape leaves I took on the new challenge of filling the outline with a green color that was pale enough not to dominate.

On Friday I went to Scotiabank and made an appointment for next week to discuss putting my money in a Henson trust. (Father will come too.) I also went to Target and bought another shirt, this time red on white.

THE EUROPEANS

"It's the darkest day of my life--and you know what that means." "Wait until tomorrow"--The Europeans

Last night I finally finished Paris 1919.  I've always thought the Treaty of Versailles got a worse rap than it deserved, and Margaret MacMillan seems to agree.  The book increased my sympathy for Woodrow Wilson, rigid and inept as he could be at important moments.  At least he had a vision for world peace that might have worked.

Today I went to the Northern District branch and borrowed Henry James' The Europeans.  I have just under three weeks to read it before the Classic Book Club meets, but fortunately it's fairly short.  The title character are a brother and sister born in Europe to an American mother and a father with American parents, who've now moved to Massachusetts.  It reminds me of A Soldier's Daughter Never Cries. (Both books were filmed by James Ivory.)

At choir practice the other night we did two new pieces: "Christmas Chopsticks" and the Basque Christmas carol "The Angel Gabriel From Heaven Came." Beatrice really liked my gingerbread.

Today I went to see Nancy V. at her apartment.  She organized the Crossword Meetup--unlike Nancy M. my acting teacher--but had to quit because the fees were too high. (I suggested she start a Facebook group.) Today she was hosting a Celebration of Mind Event, one of several worldwide events honouring the mathematician Martin Gardner.  She was giving away quite a few puzzle books and stuff once again, and I'd brought the latest Games magazine in hope of giving her something in exchange, but alas, she already had a copy.  In the end she gave me so much stuff that I needed a couple of tote bags!  She also gave me a Pierre Berton memoir and the book Why I Hate Canadians.  We already had a copy, but coincidentally Father sold it off today!

I sometimes get work done

Yesterday I helped Father move some heavy slabs from the back yard to the front. (We've taken down the fence and the slabs will be part of a terrace next to the sidewalk.) I also used the pickaxe to finally shift the beams in our back yard's diamond-shaped planter, which we're going to level.  But I still have the potatoes to harvest.

Today I finished my Olivia Chow leafleting along Millwood and Davisville avenues.  I skipped lunch--a bad habit of mine these days--to make sure I had time to finish.  And I had to tell Tsering that I had no more time for volunteering.

Late in the evening I baked gingerbread to bring to choir practice Monday. (I could have waited till Sunday night and it would have been fresher, but leaving things to the last minute is asking for trouble.) I was going to bring it the previous week, but completely forgot about it, as happened last spring too.

I've made another breakthrough in the Facebook game Tribez.  I wanted to build a polonarium factory in Piedmont Lands, but I needed to build a special part in this building that I can't yet open, presumably because the mission of finishing the props is taking forever.  Then I realize I could spend a few gems--bought with real money--and buy the part directly.

Indian summer

The weather was so mild today that I actually walked to choir rehearsal!  We've started bringing up the sets from the basement, and Beatrice was amused when I told her I'd written a piece for my memoir group predicting that the end of the world would resemble the basement of the Bickford Centre, when we've produced so much junk that it'll overwhelm us.

Sunday was the latest ROLT.  This event was "Spine Tinglers," about scary writing.  Eight people had said they were coming so I made a reservation for five, and three people showed up.  But Jane was there, reading the last chapter of Patricia Highsmith's Ripley Under Water.

I read one of Hilaire Belloc's Cautionary Tales, "Matilda who Told Lies and Was Burned to Death." (The book was illustrated by Edward Gorey.) I read H.P. Lovecraft's "The Cats of Ulthar," from the magic issue of Lapham's Quarterly.  I read Poe's "The Masque of the Red Death," which inevitably reminded me of the Ebola epidemic.  

And I read Jack London's story "In a Far Country," about two guys stuck in a cabin in a Yukon winter descending into madness.  Jane said it needed editing down.  The night before I went online to trace the journey they'd been on, which took an almost circular course!  There's a mention of the Rat River, which later produced Albert Johnson the "Mad Trapper."

Donald came over for Thanksgiving dinner and fixed our modem so now we can watch Netflix on the big TV again.

In translating Fukurou Castle I came across one of those Japanese words that are very hard to translate into English:  "rinsetsu" means an expression so stern that people respond with awe.

Fukurou Castle

Having completed a couple more chapters of that Chinese novel, I've returned to translating that Japanese novel Fukurow Castle. (It's about ninjas in the warlord era.) Translation is fun for me, like doing a puzzle.  My current chapter is especially challenging because it's about historical background.  There's talk about Yoshitsune, except he goes by a different name here, and it took Wikipedia to clue me in.  Sort of like the Emperor they used to call Hirohito is now called Shouwa posthumously.

Wednesday afternoon I finally got back to leafleting for Olivia Chow.  I was doing it along Belsize Avenue, but got lost.  The east-west streets were where I expected, but the north-south streets were all different from the map.  Where was Mount Pleasant street?  I expected it to be at the right end of the map, but I finally figured out it was on the west end. (Was my face red!)

The other day I couldn't get my email for over a day.  I eventually figured out it was the same modem trouble that's got in the way of our watching Netflix on the big TV.  Last night I finally opened my email on the downstairs computer, and today my computer's connection came back. (But we still have the Netflix trouble.)

We've just been watching the David Starkey documentary series, which Moira got from the library, about the historical relationship between English kings and English music.  I can't wait for the next episode, when they get to Handel!

In that book Paris 1919, I've just got to the part about Japan and China.  I should be especially interested in that part.

The weather is cooler.  I'm now wearing sweaters, and just brought my autumn coat downstairs.  It's time to dig up the potatoes, but I have laziness to overcome.

BORGEN

There's a technical problem that prevents us from watching Netflix on the big TV. (We keep getting a message about "network interference.") It looks like this time we will need Donald to figure it out.  In the meantime we're renting DVDs from 2Q to make up for our lost entertainment, so we've started watching the third season of Borgen.  This time Birgitte is starting a new political party!

At yesterday's acting class Martha came and did her Marion Bridge monologue in preparation for an audition next week, where she's out for a role as Lizzie Borden's sister. And we did the scene from My Best Friend's Wedding where Julia Roberts got her gay friend Rupert Everett to pose as her boyfriend to make her true heartthrob jealous and win him back from his fiancee. (These Julia Roberts romantic comedy vehicles tend to have plots that require her to act childishly!) I had Dermot Mulroney's heartthrob role.  When I told Moira about it, she wanted to rent the movie again, which I've never seen.  I've seen very few Julia Roberts movies, and mostly with her in supporting roles.

This afternoon was the latest Classic Book Club event at the Victory Cafe.  We talked about Balzac's Pere Goriot.  Twelve people said they were coming, so I made the reservation for six, and three people showed up. (John Snow would have been there, but he took sick.) Bernard was impressed when I guessed that he was from Mauritius:  his surname looked so exotic that I'd Googled it!

Our next event will be on November 16th, and we'll be discussing Henry James' The Europeans.  I decided that the following event should be ten weeks later, on January 25, and that we should read a moderately long book. (For a thousand-page book like some of Dickens' novels, we'll have two consecutive events.) We considered stuff like Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbervilles and Dreiser's Sister Carrie, but I've decided I prefer Melville's Moby-Dick, because the other ones are too much like Pere Goriot.

This evening I got sick.  It must have been a combination of the home fries I had with lunch at the Victory Cafe--I always order lunch there in appreciation of our reservation--and the pizza we had for dinner.  I actually had to leave the room toward the end of the Borgen episode we were watching, though of course I was able to return and look at that part again.  And I burnt my mouth on the pizza:  the gum just over my upper front teeth, as usual.

Internet trouble

Saturday at the acting class we did the "hot seat" for a couple of people who missed it the first time around, where you sit in the hot seat and the others imagine what characters we could see you playing. (As usual, I took the notes.)

The Chinese art class has been moved to Sunday afternoons, so I'll have to miss the next two.  This Sunday we were painting orchid bushes with rocks in the background.  I was pretty good with the rocks but couldn't get the orchid shape right.  Qingxin gave me a couple of brushes, but I left them behind!  Afterward I visited Giuseppe.

Sunday I night I went out and bought my tickets to the Met opera broadcasts at the Yonge & Eglinton.  I'll have to skip choir practice and see The Merry Widow on a Monday night, but the others all had seats on Saturday.  I also went to Walmart and bought a black turtleneck to replace my threadbare red one.  I realized it was the same look as Steve McQueen in Bullitt, except that it needs a shoulder holster too. (And I'd have to drive a Mustang.)

I'd have posted this a day or two ago, but our internet connection's been acting up.  I could receive email and open Facebook, but with other webpages I'd get a message saying that the server had unexpectedly dropped the connection, or asking us to reconfigure our modem.  This was frustrating because I had to cancel going to a Puzzle Meetup because it was conflicting with opera rehearsal, and I hate doing that at the last minute. (I went to the library today, went online there and cancelled.)

We invited Donald the computer expert over for dinner so he could solve the problem, but it turned out we don't need him.  I looked at our Sympatico passwords and stuff and got the modem configured.  Oh well, he doesn't come over too often.

Yesterday I went to a fruit and vegetable store near Bathurst station and bought a whole lot of different hard autumn apples, as well as the last peaches.  Moira likes those types, and so do I.

I AM STEVE MCQUEEN

"Being an actor is a gas.  Being a movie star is a pain in the ass"--Steve McQueen

Wednesday I finally got to Dr. Hassan's and got my prescription renewed.  Then I went to the Olivia Chow HQ and let Tsering talk me into dropping some more leaflets in the area south of Davisville Avenue.  But then I left the prescription pages there and only today did I get them back and get the new pills!

This evening I saw the documentary I am Steve McQueen.  There was something Peter Pannish about McQueen's persona:  when his motorcycle cleared the barbed wire in The Great Escape, it was almost like he was flying!

I read online about a gay teenager in South Dakota who says his supervisor at Taco John's made him wear a name tag saying "Gaytard." He's now suing the place, with the support of the American Civil Liberties Union.  This is about more than GLBT rights:  it's about the right of workers not to be bullied! (This is why we need labor unions.) I say that everyone should show him support by wearing a "Gaytard" label themselves, even--and especially--us straight people.  One of the comments I wrote was "Thank you, Anita Bryant."

I noticed online Rolling Stone magazine's list of the 100 best singles of 1984. (They claimed, dubiously, that this was the top year for pop music.) I resolved years ago not to let the prostitute of the counterculture get to me, but it's happened again!  This list included several singles from 1983 (Elton John's "I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues") and 1985 (Dead or Alive's "You Spin Me Round")!  This is one magazine with no excuse for sloppiness about pop music history.

The problem here is that no year has produced enough outstanding singles for a "top 100" list.  The alternatives were a list that was actually composed of 100 1984 singles, but some of the choices would have been transparently dubious; a list of the top 50 singles of 1984, which would make sense to me, but they evidently decided that the top 100 has a greater obvious appeal than the top 50; or a list of the top 100 singles of the mid-1980s, but again that wasn't as obvious as a single year.  This is what happens when a once-great magazine gets dumbed down.

(In addition, it displayed what Beatrice would call some "interesting" judgement.  Steve Perry's "Oh, Sherry" has a nice intro and not much else, while Genesis' "That's All" is less deserving of mention then the same group's "Mama" and "Illegal Alien.")

Back to opera

This evening I started rehearsing with the Toronto City Opera chorus. (I missed the first rehearsal the previous week, due to sheer carelessness.) This year we're doing Verdi's Un Ballo in Maschera, which I did with the choir, and Mozart's Don Giovanni.  The opening chorus of Ballo has some nice harmony.

At yesterday's choir practice, we learned "We Need a Little Christmas" from Mame.  What an ear worm:  it was going through my head all last night!

Last night I had a problem with my computer and couldn't load my Facebook games.  Part of me was hoping the problem would be permanent!  But I solved the problem today by putting the computer into shutdown instead of sleep mode.

I'm enjoying Paris 1919.  Clemenceau sounds like a pain in the neck!  By the way, even if Churchill and Foch were eventually proved right about the evil nature of Bolshevism, their tactics were still wrong:  intervention just made things worse in Russia. (And even if the White forces had won, that wouldn't have been a bed of roses either.)

I'm really annoyed by Margaret Wente's Globe and Mail article telling the climate change protesters to "grow up." The editors dump Rick Salutin and increase this columnist to twice a week?! There are people who try to do something to solve a problem, and then there are people who put down the aforementioned people for neglecting the problem's "complexity." (What they don't do is offer a more complex solution...)

This afternoon I finished the latest round of leafleting, along Old Forest Hill Road and Vesta Drive.  I don't know how much more I can do with so many other things going on.  Some very lavish houses there, like Stately Wayne Manor.

Ever been tempted to write graffiti?  When I see a poster in a school saying "Why do you think they call it dope?" I want to write under it, "Because it's dope, man!" And today,  while returning from leafleting, I notice a poster on a synagogue promoting Israel national bonds showing grapes, with the caption "How do you grow grapes in the desert?  IJF was there." (Or whatever the acronym is for the bond-selling drive.) I wanted to write under it: "By bulldozing the olive grove that a Palestinian family's been tending for a century.  IDF was there." (As in Israeli defence forces.) I've chickened out, of course.  But if someone reading this goes ahead and does it, I won't feel ashamed.

The anti-climate change march

This afternoon I went on the march against climate change.  I wore the new shirt and summer hat I'd just bought at Target.  Toronto didn't have New York's numbers, but there were several thousand here.  We met in Nathan Phillips Square, then marched along University Avenue, Dundas Street and Yonge Street in a circle back to where we started. (I dropped out at Dundas Square and had lunch at Burger King.)

The speakers beforehand included the Fair Vote director and Judy Rebick, who led the crowd in the chant, "Hey hey, ho ho, dirty oil has got to go!" It's the third time I've gone on a protest march:  back in 1982 I went on a peace march here in Toronto, and in 1995 I marched in London to protest Western inaction over Bosnia. (I heard Vanessa Redgrave speaking in Trafalgar Square!) I went just in case it'll make a difference, which I'm definitely not counting on.  Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.

I'd considered visiting Giuseppe afterward, but in the end I felt too tired for the long trip east.  It's odd how fatigue creeps up on me these days.  Today I got a headache first, and when I got home I had to nap before dinner.

Tonight I saw the first episode of the fourth season of Boardwalk Empire, on DVD from 2Q.  I've noticed that Chalky, the black community strongman, is played by the same actor who was Omar on The Wire.  I'd totally forgotten that Nucky lost his wife!

Thursday night the Storytelling Meetup got cancelled because the organizer was too busy with other things.  I wish she'd name an assistant organizer so we can meet without her!

I've been writing some witty posts in my Facebook groups, if I do say so myself.  In one someone asked, "If DC or Marvel wanted to make you into a superhero what would your name and powers be?" I answered, "I'd be Bigmouth, who sits home and rants." Someone has been posting sophisticated riddles in the style of Batman's Riddler, and I gave an answer, "Uh--blood, hope and Turandot." (We'll see if any comic book fans are also opera fans.) In this Aspergers group someone asked, "Are you a leader or a follower?" I answered "'Lead, follow, or get out of the way!' I'm a getoutofthewayer."

A new art group

On Tuesday I went to a new Art Meetup group at a Korean women's centre in the Annex. We were all painting trees, and I painted an apple tree whose top part went over the picture's upper edge, with the sun and some clouds in the background, and more trees on the horizon.  It got a good reception, but I was really impressed by Andrea's tree:  she has a great sense of style!  Later we did spontaneous abstracts, but that didn't suit me too well.

Wednesday afternoon at the Chinese Art Meetup we drew tulips.  I'm starting to enjoy painting more, now that I'm less intimidated by the wide range of pigments.

Today I went to Shopper's Drug Mart to replenish my Cipralex, but it turned out the prescription has expired and I'll have to get a renewal from Dr. Hassan. (Hope he's in his office this week!)

This evening I went on Betty-Anne's art walk.  It was on Dundas Street West again, and one gallery had a model village an artist created with scenery you can get at a model train shop and some fantastical residents who were cyclops or half man and half bird. (I commented that you might find Popeye in such a place.) We also went to a restaurant called Get Well that had several classic video game machines and a Soviet propaganda mural featuring Comrade Stalin.

I've finished Pere Goriot.  Definitely unsentimental.  Vautrin the crook was my favourite character and I was thrilled to find out that Balzac wrote more stories about him. (I could imagine him being played by Cesar Romero.) I'll have to read some more of The Human Comedy someday...

After the art walk I went to Indigo Books near Bay and Bloor and bought a copy of Margaret MacMillan's Paris 1919.  I'm going to read it for the Non-Fiction Book Club Meetup at the end of October.

September beginnings

It's mid-September and parts of my regular weekly routine are resuming.

Saturday afternoon my acting class resumed, Nancy being back from her work vacation on the Irish farm.  But only she, Chris and I showed up. (There should be more people next week.) We're going to be doing more scene work, and this week we did a scene from The King of Comedy with Chris in the Robert de Niro role and me as the police detective dealing with him.  I also did my monologue "The 26-Year-Old Bar Mitzvah Boy," which I'd finished memorizing the week before.  Nancy's only suggestion was putting my hands in my pockets for the first part of the monologue.

Yesterday afternoon was the latest ROLT event, "Our Friends to the South," focusing on American writers.  A week before eight people said they were coming so I made a reservation for five, then the total rose to over a dozen as people RSVPed at the last moment.  But that afternoon the Bloor-Danforth subway service was interrupted and only four people made it, including two who were late. (I walked from Spadina to Bathurst station and was lucky to be on time.)

I read my acting monologue; the Robert Frost poem "America is Hard to See"; the James Thurber story "Draft Board Nights" from My Life and Hard Times; and the section of Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn where Huck witnesses a murder and a failed lynching.  Coincidentally, one of the others read from Cormac McCarthy's The Road while another read from McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses! (I'll have to read The Road sometime.)

We're still getting more people at the memoir slam.  The library publication What's On, which has previously only mentioned us in the summer issue, is now including us in the fall issue as well.

Tonight was the first choir rehearsal of the new season.  Several people were missing but will come in the next week or two.  We learned the Andrea Bocelli song "Time to Say Goodbye." We're also going to do a Christmas song from Mame!

PERE GORIOT

"Once a man knows Paris, he believes nothing of what is said there, and says nothing of what is done"--Pere Goriot

For the past week I've been reading Balzac's Pere Goriot for the Classic Book Club.  It's brilliant in a pretty cynical way.  Balzac seemed to know Paris the way Dickens knew London.

I'm now distributing Olivia Chow leaflets in Forest Hill!  Just today I did Richview Avenue (well named!), Dewbourne Avenue and Ava Road.  Even in this cooler weather, I'm still working up a sweat.

Father and I are now watching the third season of Upstairs, Downstairs on Netflix.  Hudson has a great poker face when speaking with the masters!   I think this is the season where it really got into high gear, when Hazel entered the household first as Richard's secretary then as James' wife. (She should have married Richard, of course.) If you ask me, Georgina--who first appears in the middle of this season--is a more believable character than Elizabeth.

Yesterday I went to see Dr. Hassan but his place was closed! (That's the first time that's ever happened.) I guess they couldn't phone me to cancel my appointment because we've changed our phone number.  I'll have to go arrange for a new appointment whenever I get around to it.

On the Facebook group devoted to the Batman TV series I impressed some people by posting a still of Neil Hamilton (Commissioner Gordon) in his starring role in America, D.W. Griffiths' silent epic of the Revolutionary War which he'd starred in four decades earlier.  I also posted a still of him as Nick Carraway in the now-lost silent movie of The Great Gatsby.

They're going to have another Chinese art class on Sundays.  I think my leaves are improving!

More leaflets

Wednesday I met Tsering Dolma, who's in charge of volunteers in the Olivia Chow campaign. (She was impressed that I recognized her name as Tibetan.) She talked me into doing some more leaflet drops in the area northeast of Eglinton West station.

Thursday I did Briar Hill Avenue and Old Park Road north of Elm Ridge Circle. (I miscalculated the time and was late getting home for dinner.) There's construction around Eglinton West station, in preparation for the LRT line, so I've had to take a circuitous route to the area and back.  The area has a suburban feel:  some streets lack sidewalks!

Friday I did Old Forest Hill Road and Ridge Hill Drive between Allen Road and Hilltop Road.  Sunday I did Old Park Road south to Eglinton, and Shallmar Boulevard east to Bathurst.

Wednesday afternoon at the Chinese art class we created peonies.  For the first time I painted in colours!

Since the film festival is honouring Bill Murray, Saturday night we saw him in Richard Donner's Scrooged on Netflix:  predictably uneven, but Murray had some funny moments.  Tonight I saw John Landis' Trading Places (for the second time), also on Netflix.  Some funny lines, but a pretty sloppy production.

Sunday night I saw Carl Schulz' Australian classic Careful, He Might Hear You (for the second time), which I'd found at 2Q Video.

Leaflets

This Labor Day Weekend the Olivia Chow campaign had a big leafletting drive.  I left leaflets in mailboxes or doorways in the area between Vaughan Road and the Cedarvale Ravine. (Some fancy new houses there.) 

All this took a couple of days:  Saturday afternoon I did Winona Drive, in the evening Winnett Avenue; Sunday afternoon Arlington Avenue, in the evening Rushton Road and Humewood Drive; this afternoon I finished the area along Pinewood Avenue and Connaught Circle. (I didn't quite manage to finish it on Sunday as I'd hoped.)

My feet got pretty sore, like when I was in London two years ago.  I couldn't help thinking about the leafletting I've done in past St. Pauls NDP campaigns and how I seemed to have more energy then.  When I told Father that I wasn't getting any younger, he said, "It happens to the best of us!" Coincidentally, Moira was also talking about her sore feet.

I met a few people along the way and offered most of them leaflets.  Some said they were voting for my candidate, but one said, "God, no!" And I got into a conversation with a Ford supporter at one point.  When he asked what my job was and I revealed that I'm unemployed, he said that I should ask Olivia Chow for a job.

The muggy weather didn't make it any easier.  I sweated a lot, and went through two shirts on Saturday and again on Sunday.  I've also been taking two baths a day the last couple of days.

Running short again...

Meetup events

"What kind of man are you?" "A philanderer"--Upstairs, Downstairs

I've been really lazy lately! (Hence the long gap since my last post.) Today around noon I got back in bed for a nap, and slept another three hours!  At least I still have Meetup.

Saturday I went to the Book and Brunch Meetup, where we talked about Love in the Time of Cholera.  There were over twenty people there, but the only other man was the waiter!  I had to admit that the book, for all its brilliance, left a bad taste in the mouth.

Tuesday evening the Transit Enthusiasts Meetup group met at Dutch Dreams (my suggestion). I had a strawberry-vanilla sundae with tropical fruit.  Then we walked around the neighbourhood seeing places like the car barns complex.

At yesterday's Chinese art class we drew grapes.  I'm still afraid to try colours other than black ink!

This evening I went to the Non-Fiction Book Club, which met this time at the Fox & Fiddle near St. George station.  We discussed The Undercover Economist, but I hadn't had time to read the book so I didn't have much to contribute.  I left early.

Campaign volunteer

"'Everything in the world has changed,' she said.

"'I have not,' he said. 'Have you?'"--Love in the Time of Cholera

I've started doing data entry at Olivia Chow's campaign office south of St. Clair station. (Nelson Lui, whom I know from some Asperger's groups, is active in it and invited me to participate.) Yesterday I processed some canvassing reports and today I entered some phone canvasses.  I also bundled some leaflets.

I'm handy with computers and figured out the work pretty quickly.  The phone canvassing had been in the east end and there were a lot of people who only spoke Chinese. (A few were limited to Greek.) Of course, there were a lot of "No answer" entries.

Yesterday morning I went on a Walking Meetup in the Cedarvale Ravine at 8:10 in the morning.  I barely made it in time, and had to run a bit to catch up with the others. (Later I went home and back to bed!) I'm not sure if I'll continue with it, but I wanted some creative disruption in my schedule.

I've joined several Facebook groups recently.  The group devoted to the 1960s TV series Batman is pretty fun.  I'm also in a couple for Aspies, one for Elizabeth Warren fans, and some devoted to comics, including fans of the website The Comics Curmudgeon.

THE TRIP TO ITALY

"She led him by the hand to the bed as if he were a blind beggar on the street, and she cut him into pieces with malicious tenderness, she added salt to taste, pepper, a clove of garlic, chopped onion, lemon juice, bay leaf, until he was seasoned and on the platter, and the oven was heated to the right temperature"--Love in the Time of Cholera

Yesterday Moira and I saw Michael Winterbottom's The Trip to Italy at the Varsity.  It's the sequel to his The Trip, with Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon visiting Italian places this time.  Beforehand, we saw a string of trailers for very conventional-looking movies.

I've finally got rid of two threadbare T-shirts, at Moira's urging, and last night I got two new ones at the Target in the Stockyards.  I also went to the nearby Bulk Bin and got a load of 12-grain flour to replace the multigrain flour that I can no longer find.  Those grains include stuff like quinoa, amaranth and sunflower seeds!

At today's Chinese art class we were painting chrysanthemums. (Our teacher Qingxin says that next week we may start doing landscape stuff.) This week I was on time for a change.  I finally figured out that the "rocket" bus from Don Mills station to Scarborough Town Centre isn't a pure express:  it makes a few stops along the way, include Kennedy Avenue where I get off.

I've finished Love in the Time of Cholera.  Its sensibility was kind of cruel.

The end of the world

Every year when I sing in the Toronto City Opera chorus at the Bickford Centre, there comes a time when we go down to the basement and bring up the set pieces and props that are stored down there.  The Bickford Centre basement is not for the faint of heart.  The place is chaotically strewn with the detritus that accumulates from decades of schooling, with every kind of junk from file folders to obsolete computers. (I think there was a room like that in the Harry Potter books.) It gives me the creeps.

I was thinking, maybe this will be the fate of the world.  Modern civilization is a machine that's developed to the point of spewing out junk faster than we can dispose of it, or even put it in order.  As the twenty-first century progresses, maybe the junk will overwhelm us all.  The earth may end up like that basement, with a million different things to show future archaeologists that we were here.

A few years ago someone wrote a book imagining what the earth would look like if the human race suddenly disappeared all at once. (After a few years the nuclear plants would explode.) Our physical legacy would gradually be eroded, but it would take some time.  That's yet another book I want to read someday.

Headache!

The weather's been cool the last few days, earlier than usual.  I like such weather, except that the temperature change gave me quite a headache, which slowed down my activity.  Yesterday John and his family brought burritos for dinner, but I had to retire to bed pretty early.

Sunday afternoon was the second Classic Book Club Meetup, again at the Victory Cafe.  We discussed George Eliot's Silas Marner, and five people showed up, the exact number I'd made the reservation for.  There was also a sixth guy who'd come for a different event but ended up listening to us.  John Snow was telling how his stepmother wrote a graduate thesis on George Eliot, and he'd taught the book to students, so he knew it pretty well. (He liked that I called it "deceptively simple" in my writeup of the event. I also brought the Classics Illustrated comic from my childhood, though it's lost the centre part where Eppie crawled into his hut.  We're reading Balzac's Pere Goriot in October--John warned us not to read the Raffel translation--and Henry James' The Europeans in November.  Then we'll read a long book over the Christmas break!

Afterward I went to the supermarket in Dufferin Mall to look for Robin Hood multigrain flour, but they don't seem to have it anymore.  Oh, dear.

Yesterday a dozen people came to the memoir slam!  The subjects were the end of the world and recurring dreams.

Busy day yesterday

"Get busy with liven', or get busy with dyin'"--The Shawshank Redemption

Yesterday was busy.  First I went to my Chinese brush painting class in Agincourt.  I was even later than usual.  We did calligraphy for the first time.  I've been struggling with leaves the past few weeks, but I think I'm improving now.

Then I went to a picnic for autistic children at June Rowlands Park near Davisville station.  I went because Nelson Lui had invited me, and only made a short appearance. (Evgenia turned up too.)

Afterward I joined a Movie Meetup group and saw Frank Darabont's movie of Steven King's prison story The Shawshank Redemption for the second time. (It's been almost twenty years since I first saw it, at the time of its original release.) It ends up remarkably life-affirming.

Busy day yesterday, lazy day today.  It's time for me to go to Dufferin Mall and get a new supply of multigrain bread, but I just didn't feel motivated enough to leave the house.  Of course, this post is on the short side.

Somebody up There Likes Me

This afternoon was the latest ROLT Meetup.  The topic was religion, so I gave it the title "Somebody up There Likes Me." Over a dozen people said they were coming, but only five showed up.  Oh well, it's my biggest turnout in months.  I read "The Pinch-Bug and Its Prey," a chapter from Mark Twain's The Adventures of Tom Sawyer about a church service, as well as part of Huckleberry Finn where the hero tests the power of prayer.  And I read the chapter from the Book of Ecclesiastes with "The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong..." I would have read a bit from Silas Marner, but one of the people there is reading it for my other group and I didn't want to spoil the plot for her.

They finally billed me for the copy of The Innocents Abroad I lost in the spring, and yesterday I went to Jones Library and paid the nineteen-dollar fine.  I also contributed the copy I'd bought as its replacement.  Last night I went to the latest Karaoke Meetup at BarPlus, where I sang Elvis' "American Trilogy" for the first time.

I've got past another bottleneck in the Facebook game Tribez.  This time I needed to produce more paint, which requires coral from the atoll island.  I've raised production partly by building a third coral factory, and partly by building paint factories on every island.  So  now I have coal plants on Marble Fiord and Piedmont Lands.

Yesterday I read almost 50 pages of Love in the Time of Cholera.  So I'm less anxious about finishing in time for the book club.

A new Meetup

"I told your daughter that she is like a rose." "True enough," said Lorenzo Daza, "but one with too many thorns"--Love in the Time of Cholera

Today I went to a Lunch Meetup with the awkwardly named "Daytime Monday to Friday Outing and Lunch Group." It was at the Green Papaya Vietnamese restaurant near Eglinton station.  I had the wonton soup--curried rice & shrimp combo. (Some of them went for a walk before arriving for lunch, but I wasn't up to that part.)

I was talking to a guy who's in even more Meetup groups than me. One day he joined so many all at once that the Meetup software temporarily stopped him in case he was a spammer!  There was also a girl who'd just arrived from Spain.  I suggested What a Bagel for a future location.

At Wednesday's Chinese painting class we started drawing bamboo.  I hope we start calligraphy soon! (I'm not yet motivated enough to buy materials and paint at home.)

I should get a move on with Love in the Time of Cholera.  The book club's meeting in two weeks, and I still haven't reached the halfway point.

Last night I dreamed of arriving by boat on the western shore of Ireland.

THE WIRE

I'm almost over my cold.  This afternoon I went outside and started snipping the branches from two limbs Father just sawed off the crab apple tree in the front yard. (They were blocking the sunlight from our living room and stretching over the neighbour's property.) The limbs will then be a lot easier to move to the back yard.

I'm now watching The Wire on DVD for the second time.  It's a really great show, with smart characters and lots of Baltimore atmosphere.  David Simon created this show before going on to do Treme. (A couple of actors are in both shows.) I mentioned that Treme always makes me angry about the neglect of New Orleans; The Wire makes me angry about the whole War on Drugs.  I plan to see the later episodes soon, which I haven't seen before.

This afternoon I went to a new Meetup group for puzzle enthusiasts. (It was at the Starbuck's in the Yonge & Eglinton Indigo Books.) At the last minute, unfortunately, the organizer changed the time from tomorrow to today and I was the only other person who showed up.  I hope the next event goes better.

Tonight I saw an episode of Upstairs, Downstairs with a music box playing a Strauss waltz that Elizabeth said was "Tales From the Vienna Woods," but I'm pretty sure it was "Roses From the South." Elizabeth was never as smart as she thought she was...

Last night I dreamed of being in a big shopping centre in New Guinea, with signs written in pidgin.

A cold!

I've had a bit of a cold for the last couple of days.  But I still managed to make the Bible Meetup yesterday evening.  It was at the Second Cup in the North York Civic Centre, and I ordered some hot cider, which should be good for the cold.  The Bible Meetup wasn't really my sort of thing--I'm not religious enough--but I did try it. (I missed a Movie Meetup that was going to the Beatles movie A Hard Day's Night.)

I've just joined several Meetup groups.  One is for Aspies who only got diagnosed later in life.  Another is for people who admire the comic strip artist Alex Raymond (Flash Gordon, Rip Kirby).

I've started resuming my translation of that Chinese novel Wandering Youth.  It's a 1950s anticommunist potboiler with a nice girl and a bad girl.  In the part I'm now at the bad girl is telling the nice girl her life story, which involves her running away from her aunt's home to escape her uncle's lust and marrying a dissolute good for nothing out of necessity.

I'm now reading Gabriel Garcia-Marquez' "magical realist" novel Love in the Time of Cholera, and it's pretty amazing. (I loved the author's 100 Years of Solitude.) I'm reading it for the Book and Brunch Meetup three weeks from now.

UPSTAIRS, DOWNSTAIRS

Father and I have been watching the 1970s British TV series Upstairs, Downstairs on Netflix.  It's the show that made Masterpiece Theatre, the one about an upper-class family and their servants in London in the early 20th century.  I first saw it on the CBC in the '70s, then in reruns in the late 1980s and again in the 1990s.  I used to watch it late on Sunday night, and sometimes I dream of being about to watch it at that time. 

It's one of my favourite shows, despite the occasional improbable plot turn--would Sarah really have an affair with James?--and shameless cliche. (See the scene at a seaside theatre where Hudson's recitation gets interrupted by someone announcing Britain's entry into World War I.) My favourite character is Hudson the Scottish butler.  Even though he seems happy in his station, for some reason I keep feeling sorry for him.  Maybe he just seems like a lost soul. My mother said about Hudson, "The tragedy of the Scots is that too many are yes men." Anglicized Scots seem to become more English than the English.

But I have to admit that the first season isn't so good, though it has its moments, and I'm not surprised that Masterpiece Theatre skipped most of these episodes.  Some of the writing is a little much:  in the episode I just saw Mrs. Bridges was so distraught about the suicide of her love-thwarted kitchen maid that she stole a baby and ended up on trial, where Hudson took the stand and proposed marriage to her, which somehow got her off. (They forgot about the proposal till the last episode--did I mention cliches?) They often show Hudson polishing something.  Jean Marsh's parlour maid Rose hasn't yet had an episode centred on her, which is surprising considering that she was one of the show's producers.

We've also been watching the last episodes of Treme on DVD.  Great music and some great acting, but the show's just near-great.

Last acting class

Yesterday afternoon was my last acting class for a while. (Nancy's spending next month on a work vacation on an Irish farm.) It took place at Philty McNasty's, which was having trouble with its air conditioning so things were hot and stuffy.  Among other things, Sharon and I did a dialogue as Ella the fairy and Rick Pulaski.  It was originally going to be a Meisner exchange, but we ended up doing things our own way.  Rick suggested that Ella should visit Nancy's farm in Ireland because people there still believed in her kind!

In the last hour Chris had a diabetic fainting spell!  Fortunately, Nancy's an experienced nurse and knew exactly what to do so he recovered and didn't need an ambulance.  I may not have been a hero so far in my life, but I got to see a hero closeup.  After this caused a long delay, I got to read my monologue "The 26-Year-Old Bar Mitzvah Boy" again.  I don't have it memorized yet but I seem to be improving.

This afternoon I saw the documentary Citizen Koch at the Bloor with the Sunday Afternoon Movie Meetup. (It's the documentary that PBS chickened out of showing because Koch is a big donor.) Scott Walker is a shameless hypocrite, the way he claimed that outside interests and big unions were financing the campaign to recall him while the big money was on his side!

At the event I got to meet a Malian girl called Sira.  She was impressed that I knew Mali's capital is Bamako, and have heard of Timbuktu and King Sundiata.  And she's interested in joining ROLT.

Brush painting

Wednesday I went to the Agincourt Centre near Sheppard and Kennedy and took a class in Chinese brush painting. (I discovered it through Meetup.) Future classes will cost $15 each, but the first one was a free sample.  I'm interested enough to go again, but not yet to buy materials so I can practise at home.

Unfortunately, the teacher spoke Chinese--the language of most of the pupils--and Anglophones like me needed an interpreter.  I started drawing petals and didn't stop, so I produced several zinnias.  There was also some Chinese calligraphy, which particularly interests me.  I remember learning years ago that the brush strokes in Chinese characters are drawn rightward and downward, but if you have a diagonal line going between upper right and lower left downward gets preference unless it's just a slight tilt off horizontal.  And the character "yong" (eternity) uses all the basic strokes.

Last night I saw Robert Altman's film of Raymond Chandler's The Long Goodbye (for the second time) with the Classic Movie Meetup at the Revue.  It was introduced by Geoff Pevere as part of a series of private eye movies.  It's an oddly counter-intuitive adaptation:  Moira says it's totally different from the book.  I noticed David Carradine in a cellmate cameo, which Pevere confirmed afterward; he also confirmed that the actor playing the gangster was the same Mark Rydell who directed movies like On Golden Pond.

SILAS MARNER

A sarcastic Patricia Arquette, asked why she bought an expensive house that she now has to sell: "Because I love making poor life choices!"--Boyhood

I'm now reading George Eliot's Silas Marner for the Classic Book Club. (I read it before when I was 18, and before that I read the Classics Illustrated comic book.) It may seem a simple story at first glance, but I now see that it's very sophisticated in its historical and psychological aspects.  I'm the sort of reader who seeks existentialism everywhere, and there's something existential about the hero's shifting focus from religion to money to parenthood.

Yesterday I saw Richard Linklater's Boyhood with the Sunday Afternoon Movie Meetup, at the Varsity.  It's everything they say! (Why can't I use the occasional cliche?) A very original movie, though it got rather conventional toward the end when he discovered girls.  It's the sort of film that interested Mark Cousins in his cinema history, whose last episode we were lucky enough to finish on Netflix.

Last Thursday I met a girl called Sarah at the Storytellers Meetup and she sent me a message saying it was nice to meet me and asking how I was doing.  I answered, "I'm waiting for our next event together =)" Now I'm worrying maybe that reply was too forward.  Sarah, if you're reading this, please bear with my awkwardness with girls. (I'm awkward with boys too.)

Kirk Pulaski

Today's acting class had an unusual challenge:  for the second-last session before the August break, we had to take the casting suggestions from each of our "hot seat" sessions, come up with a character, and play him or her all through class.  Four of us did it, and it was pretty fun.

I played Kirk Pulaski, an anarchist from 1914 visiting 2014 via time machine. (I wore a tie and my green cardigan to look the part, and stood up when a lady entered the room.) He was from Trail, B.C., with a Polish-born father and Scottish-born mother.  He couldn't afford university but became very well-read, especially in a period of a few years when he worked as a lighthouse keeper.  He'd also been a schoolteacher and newspaper reporter but was too outspoken to keep such jobs.  He'd worked a wide range of jobs and even been a hobo.  The last thing he said to the group was "Try to forgive our mistakes." Like the other characters, he spoke of me in the third person.  Nancy asked if he could return next week.

Ken was a guitar man from Kentucky, Tristan was a drug dealer, and Sharon was a fairy called Ella! (When she was coming there on a GO bus, she got harassed by some ignorant auto race fans, but she stayed in character.) All of them impressed me.  Nancy said this class gave her the best memories so far.

This weekend is the Salsa on St. Clair Festival nearby, which got a pretty big crowd despite the drizzly weather. (Too bad I couldn't wear my rain jacket instead of the cardigan.) The noise was a little much, as usual, and I was glad to have somewhere to go to.

Today we had the season's first corn on the cob! (I burnt my mouth a bit.)

Storytellers

Last night I went to a new Meetup:  a storytelling group that met at a place called Baka's near the Runnymede station.  They had a talking stone-like cane for the speaker to hold.

Lisa, the organizer, told us a few stories, including one about waitressing at the Banff Springs Hotel.  She got to wear a Victorian dress for one banquet, but suffered food poisoning. (The best food went to the first-class restaurant on the top floor, what was left over went to the second-class buffet, and the staff diner was the end of the line!) There were also stories of a guy skiing in Switzerland who ended up in Italy; a girl who prized a National Geographic photo of a Nefertiti bust then found the real thing in a Berlin museum; and a guy who insisted on giving blood to help his mother through surgery.

I told the "esprit de l'escalier" story, actually three mini-stories, that I'd written for the memoir slam.  I made a pretty good impression:  there was lots of laughter.  I also told a couple of jokes.  And I promised to give a link to the memoir slam group.

On Tuesday night I went to the second Transit Enthusiasts Meetup. This time it was at Sloppy Joe's near Lakeshore & Long Branch.  That was quite a TTC journey.  (Maybe that's why they chose the place.) Unfortunately, the starting time was 6:00, so I was inevitably half an hour late, and I suggested a later time if they're going to half such out of the way locations.  And the place was really loud, so I had a hard time participating in the discussion.  I suggested Dutch Dreams or Just Desserts for the next location.

Last night I dreamed about the movie The Last of Sheila.  I want to see it again!

THE SIX WIVES OF HENRY VIII

Father and I have been watching the 1970 BBC series The Six Wives of Henry VIII on Netflix. (They have Elizabeth R too.) I remember seeing it as a kid over forty years ago.  It's a great show, intelligently written and brilliantly acted.  Keith Michell is a charismatic Henry, and Bernard Hepton's an uncanny Cranmer.  Some scenes in the Jane Seymour episode reminded me of Doctor Who!

Saturday afternoon the acting class was at upstairs at the Tangerine Bank internet cafe.  There were a couple of new students, who each did an animal imitation:  one was a platypus!  They also went through the "hot seat" of potential casting.  And we did the exercise again where we closed our eyes and wandered around the room.  Now I'm trying to figure out how to pay Nancy through E-transfer.

Sunday afternoon was the latest ROLT event, but only Joel came.  I did get to read him Service's "The Ballad of Pious Pete," Whitman's "There Was a Child Went Forth," Frost's "Never Again Would Bird's Song Be the Same," and Auden's "Funeral Blues." (That poem turned out to be in the big Auden volume after all; it just didn't have that title.) I was getting a lot of people a few months ago, but they just seemed to lose interest.

A new writing group

It's been a lazy week for me.  I've had these persistent headaches again, so I've been napping a lot in the afternoon and early evening. (And this is my first blog entry in almost a week, of course.) Father's been watching the World Cup soccer games, so we often don't eat till 18:00.

Sunday was my first Classic Book Club Meetup event, at the Victory Cafe as usual, where we talked about The Last of the Mohicans.  John Snow and I were the only ones who showed up, but I was expecting a slow start, and he's as enthusiastic as I am.  He suggested George Eliot's Silas Marner for our next book.

Ten people came to the memoir slam Monday, including three new people.  I'll remember Marion's name because it's the same name my mother had, and I'll remember Flora's name because she's Filipina and pronounced it "Frora." I don't know if I'll remember Millie's name...

Today I went to a new writing group.  It was that group that Gary was telling me about that meets at the Sanctuary just south of the Bloor-Yonge station, and this time I succeeded in making contact.  There were five people, of whom two were fellow Aspies.  Our subjects were "Hamster damn" and "Pet peeves." I guess I'll have to post my pieces in the memoir slam blog.

Afterward I picked up some poetry books for Sunday's ROLT.  I found books by Robert Service and Walt Whitman at the Deer Park library, but it took a long detour to Maria Shchuka Library to find a big volume of WH Auden poems, which turned out not to have "Funeral Blues"! (I hope I can use Moira's printer to get it from online.)

CENERENTOLA

Today I saw the last of the Met opera screenings at the Yonge & Eglinton:  Rossini's Cinderella opera La Cenerentola.  It's funny:  I've seen Puccini's La Boheme enough, but I can always see this one an extra time!  Giuseppe thinks it's even better than Rossini's The Barber of Seville, and I won't disagree.  This was a snappy production with lots of laughs.  Alidoro (the fairy godfather) looked like the horror writer HP Lovecraft.  It got me thinking about that Cinderella poem I'm still going to write someday.

It's been less than two weeks since the season finale, but I'm already missing the choir!  I hope there's lots of interesting new music in the fall.  At least I still have the memoir group.

I've started reading the youth issue of Lapham's Quarterly.  There's an interesting review of Gustave Flaubert's novel Sentimental Education.  There's another book I should read someday!

I've joined a new Meetup group where people come together to tell a story.  Now that I think about it, I'm not sure if I can think of any long stories from my past that a group of people would find entertaining. (Shorter stories are easier.)

Bustle in the streets

This is World Cup season and a lot of Toronto is noisy.  There's a restaurant around the corner from us with a lot of Colombian patrons, and things were really noisy after Colombia won a game Saturday night.

Saturday's acting class was going to be at Philty McNasty's, since the regular space is occupied by Fringe activity.  But the place was really noisy because people were watching the Brazil-Chile game, which went into overtime.  So after a long delay, we had the class out in a park north of Eglinton and a bit west from Yonge. (Chris kindly bought us bottles of water!) 

I performed my new monologue "The 26 Year Old Bar Mitzvah Boy" from Gabriel Davis' GOODBYE CHARLES.  I'd intended to print out a new document with bigger print, but every time I pasted the text the right side got cut off!  Now I'm going to type it out, adding some ellipses.

The other day I finally got enough ore samples in the Tribez game to build the foundry and open the bottleneck.  In Sunshine Bay I raised enough coin to upgrade the city hall, so my next goal will be financing a new bottling plant, which will allow more voyages at the upper end.

I meant to bake a multigrain loaf in the new machine, but I ran out of multigrain flour and filled it out with white flour.  Which resulted in mushrooming so great that the door on top got pushed open toward the end and the bread got underbaked!

I've been lazy lately.  I could have written this post a day or more ago, but I just didn't get around to it till now (well after midnight!).