There used to be letters. You’ll remember them; they were written on paper and then mailed in envelopes. Okay, maybe you don’t remember them.
But now it’s email. Could the “e” stand for “evil”? Because it’s just so oh-disposable. Free. No effort, just type whatever ur thinking at the time and it becomes chat, another perversity of the online wrld.
Until you get the blowoff, the online equivalent of “You’re out of my social circle, dude.” This is not conducted civilly, as it might be by a polite rejection letter of old times, but just by silence. Silence is the new rejection letter. And your increasingly anxious attempts to keep in touch are treated with increasing contempt, or, even worse, nothing at all.
There is no excuse for this cowardly behaviour. I don’t go around my life making friends idly. Every single one is a large investment in time and emotional energy. I’m not just fucking around.
People, please pay close attention to the people in your life who pay attention to you, and don’t blow them off. They might be the only thing holding you to this planet in the end.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Hot Air
It was appropriate that yesterday Kalli Anderson of CBC Radio called me and asked if I would pundit (not sure it's a verb, but if it ain't, I just created it) for a segment on Daybreak about tipping. Appropriate because today is the hottest day of the year so far, and hot air was probably what was going to come out of my mouth.
I like being a pundit, but especially when I don't even have to be a talking head — just a telephone head. Because I have Taishi with me, there was no way I could make it downtown at 7 a.m. for a nine-minute segment, but Kalli was most accommodating and it was agreed I could phone it in.
It's amazing how contentious the issue of tipping is. I've already referred to it but there are definitely two entrenched camps here in the Americas, and I'll wager no one is going to budge from their position any time soon.
On this segment, my co-pundit was Suzanne, a bartender from West Island (I think) who commented on the behavior of various tribes of tippers (or non-tippers.) The verdict? Europeans often pretend ignorance that the tip is not calculated into the final tally and that all one can do is shrug if they leave nothing, and that Americans are good tippers, contrary to popular belief.
But that Quebecers were the best tippers of all.
Further reading
I like being a pundit, but especially when I don't even have to be a talking head — just a telephone head. Because I have Taishi with me, there was no way I could make it downtown at 7 a.m. for a nine-minute segment, but Kalli was most accommodating and it was agreed I could phone it in.
It's amazing how contentious the issue of tipping is. I've already referred to it but there are definitely two entrenched camps here in the Americas, and I'll wager no one is going to budge from their position any time soon.
On this segment, my co-pundit was Suzanne, a bartender from West Island (I think) who commented on the behavior of various tribes of tippers (or non-tippers.) The verdict? Europeans often pretend ignorance that the tip is not calculated into the final tally and that all one can do is shrug if they leave nothing, and that Americans are good tippers, contrary to popular belief.
But that Quebecers were the best tippers of all.
Further reading
To Not Do List
Well, you can scratch Bistro Continental and Buffet Maharaja from your "must visit soon" list.
They both burned to the ground in separate incidents this week. Continental, I will mourn. Great steak-frites, and a good competitor to L'Express down the road.
Buffet Maharaja . . . no comment.
They both burned to the ground in separate incidents this week. Continental, I will mourn. Great steak-frites, and a good competitor to L'Express down the road.
Buffet Maharaja . . . no comment.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Facing the Music
If you’re even a remote fan of music, any kind of music, and you live in Montreal, you absolutely need to catch Philippe Bélanger playing the massive organ at L’Oratoire St. Joseph on Sundays at 3:30 p.m.
I stumbled upon a performance two weeks ago and was transfixed by the absolutely awesome sounds that echoed through the Basilica. No Yes, Pink Floyd or Genesis concert in any venue has ever even come close to the majestic sounds that I encountered in those short 20 minutes.
I took the liberty of recording today’s performance with my video camera and uploading it (copyright holders need never worry—the quality is atrocious) — but in actuality the sound reverberating though the Basilica, manipulated through the masterful ministrations of M. Bélanger, will literally blow circuits in your brain if you go and listen to it in person. There was some asshole couple talking a few rows behind us in loud voices that totally ruined the recording (you'll hear us leaving the vicinity for a much quieter, and thus less interesting experience) but hopefully this will give you an inkling of the performance. (And I can't discount the frequent "I want to's" from my tiny son as a distraction, though the finale soon kept him and everyone else quiet.)
I know I’ll be there next Sunday.
I stumbled upon a performance two weeks ago and was transfixed by the absolutely awesome sounds that echoed through the Basilica. No Yes, Pink Floyd or Genesis concert in any venue has ever even come close to the majestic sounds that I encountered in those short 20 minutes.
I took the liberty of recording today’s performance with my video camera and uploading it (copyright holders need never worry—the quality is atrocious) — but in actuality the sound reverberating though the Basilica, manipulated through the masterful ministrations of M. Bélanger, will literally blow circuits in your brain if you go and listen to it in person. There was some asshole couple talking a few rows behind us in loud voices that totally ruined the recording (you'll hear us leaving the vicinity for a much quieter, and thus less interesting experience) but hopefully this will give you an inkling of the performance. (And I can't discount the frequent "I want to's" from my tiny son as a distraction, though the finale soon kept him and everyone else quiet.)
I know I’ll be there next Sunday.