My God, what an evening last night. Nonstop entertainment from 5 to 2. And I'm just not used to that! Old, you know.
But it started off with veggie wraps on the balcony and the usual beers, then off to . . . where else—The Festival Mondial de la bière
(sorry people, I SIMPLY CAN NOT DO PUNCTUATION, LET ALONE ACCENTS OR FINESSE, ON THIS KEYBOARD, so get used to it. Like text messaging, I should imagine).
And it was INSANE. There were so many people at Windsor Station that they were doing the Wave, like a soccer crowd. Ole, ole ole ole, all the way down from the end of the hall. Very, very bizarre. I'm just simply not used to it. And every single one of them had a beer.
And then it was off to the Musical Box at Bell Centre. They're a Genesis tribute band, but they've gone beyond that now. They're so huge that Phil Collins has said that they actually play BETTER than Genesis did at its peak. And they're officially sanctioned by Peter Gabriel and Michael Rutherford . . . so you know how good it was. But it was SO LOUD. And this time I forgot my earplugs. You know it can't be good when you are slightly deaf when you walk out—you know, that dull sensation in your ears when you can't hear any treble.
But then . . . it was a taxi to a party in the Plateau with like, sixty people I didn't know. They were all really nice, but my partying days are over. I couldn't remember their names and that bugs me, because I pride myself on that. But there were simply too many of them! But what was wonderful about it was that we are in Montreal, and one just drifted from English to French, many, many times in the same sentence. Only in Montreal.
And you know it's time to go home when you get sick of the thin crappy watery Lowenbrau and request something stronger . . . and get a vodka and cranberry juice for your troubles! I was pretty much staggering to the taxi (didn't mention the tiny brandy bottles we smuggled into the concert). And . . . I actually requested a drag from a cigarette from someone. I haven't smoked in 20 years. And it was like someone had put a fist down my windpipe. I got dizzy and had to sit down. Nope, won't be taking up that habit again any time soon. But the amazing thing is with what concern these twenty-somethings surrounded me and asked if I was okay. Like my son says: Ultra-mega-super radically cool.
So . . . all in all, like a time machine straight to my twenties, all around.
Needless to say, I hardly slept. And now it's a Cuivree and jazz at 11 a.m.
Well, you only live . . . twice.
Nicky
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
And We Die.
I just called the plumber, who is about to die. I felt it was the least I could do. He could barely speak, but he answered his phone. I could not stop crying. How do you wish someone well who knows they are about to die . . .
I just told him in my fractured French that I was with him, that at least someone was thinking very hard about him.
He s THE SAME AGE AS ME for Chrissakes. And he is facing what no one should ever face until they are very old and very grey.
But I m glad I called him. I couldn t have lived with myself if I hadn t.
Poor Benoit. I will think of you there until it s my turn, I promise. I truly will.
Nicky
I just told him in my fractured French that I was with him, that at least someone was thinking very hard about him.
He s THE SAME AGE AS ME for Chrissakes. And he is facing what no one should ever face until they are very old and very grey.
But I m glad I called him. I couldn t have lived with myself if I hadn t.
Poor Benoit. I will think of you there until it s my turn, I promise. I truly will.
Nicky
We re All Bad
But we have to come to terms with it. We all do very bad things, lots and lots. We lie, we cheat, we hate, we yell, and I m not talking about Mike Tyson. Just you and me. I go through life wondering why that is, why can t we all be good (question mark, sorry, this will continue till I get one of my boxes back).
It s a lonely journey, sometimes, one s life, and the myriad mistakes we make can be overwhelming. I m not religious at all, but I still believe we have a duty to be good, to love each other, because what else do we have (question mark)
We were all born alone, and goodness knows, no one will be accompanying us on our final journey.
So why can t we all get along (question mark)
We re all so flawed. But we have to get used to it.
It s a lonely journey, sometimes, one s life, and the myriad mistakes we make can be overwhelming. I m not religious at all, but I still believe we have a duty to be good, to love each other, because what else do we have (question mark)
We were all born alone, and goodness knows, no one will be accompanying us on our final journey.
So why can t we all get along (question mark)
We re all so flawed. But we have to get used to it.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Blogs
It s actually quite amazing about blogs. There are people who really, really write well. You re privileged to be able to read them, because normally they d be in a book or magazine. Sorry that I can t give you a list right now (computer woes, as you can well see) but Blork is one of them (scroll down to links) and velvetblog is absolutely hilarious. Jim is one of the funniest, most erudite people I know, and I only know him from his blog.
Obviosity (Qaro) is a FANTASTIC blog and Susan is a fantastic musician as well.
It s really nice that we can communicate like this; so interesting to read the thoughts of others so freely. So spontaneous and real.
Nicky
Obviosity (Qaro) is a FANTASTIC blog and Susan is a fantastic musician as well.
It s really nice that we can communicate like this; so interesting to read the thoughts of others so freely. So spontaneous and real.
Nicky
What
. . . pithy words of wisdom can I come up with to satisfy you folks (question mark--this keyboard is on the fritz).
Two of my computers are still dead. Guys on my balcony repairing who knows what. I blew them away by giving them small tumblers of scotch on ice at ten a.m. They drained them. Then they were on the opposite balcony and I wanted to toss them some more, but . . . glass doesn t travel well.
And today I looked off the balcony and seriously thought of ending it all in a final blaze, just jumping, but the result would seriously mess up Anita s balcony, and we DO NOT want that. She would come back to haunt ME.
Hope that fits your bill for now. Can t wait to get my computers back.
Nicky
Two of my computers are still dead. Guys on my balcony repairing who knows what. I blew them away by giving them small tumblers of scotch on ice at ten a.m. They drained them. Then they were on the opposite balcony and I wanted to toss them some more, but . . . glass doesn t travel well.
And today I looked off the balcony and seriously thought of ending it all in a final blaze, just jumping, but the result would seriously mess up Anita s balcony, and we DO NOT want that. She would come back to haunt ME.
Hope that fits your bill for now. Can t wait to get my computers back.
Nicky
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
We Die
I just learned today that a guy who has done plumbing for me, only 50 years old, is probably going to die within ten days of brain cancer.
How mean, how ruthless is that of life (typing on a keyboard that won t do apostrophes or question marks, sorry.)
There will be no tomorrow for him, he has a grown son and the imagining is just so hard. SO pay attention to everyone you love; just do it.
JUST TAKE THE TIME OUT AND DO IT.
How mean, how ruthless is that of life (typing on a keyboard that won t do apostrophes or question marks, sorry.)
There will be no tomorrow for him, he has a grown son and the imagining is just so hard. SO pay attention to everyone you love; just do it.
JUST TAKE THE TIME OUT AND DO IT.
I Think
I think, I really think, that we have to get rid of this "Us and Them" attitude. Last night at the restaurant when I talked to the co-owner, I realised so quickly he was just like you and me, not some faceless guy, but a husband, a father, a cousin, a brother. As are we all. He was just working as hard as he could, and as I had a conversation just one night previously, this is DEFINITELY not the prettiest of businesses.
People commit their life savings and then dream a dream but then see it die and they don't know why. But I know why. Because it's like standing on a cliff and looking down and then that's all there is, only air between you and oblivion. You just have to hope your parachute is going to work.
THIS TIME. Because after all, this time is always the only one that matters.
People commit their life savings and then dream a dream but then see it die and they don't know why. But I know why. Because it's like standing on a cliff and looking down and then that's all there is, only air between you and oblivion. You just have to hope your parachute is going to work.
THIS TIME. Because after all, this time is always the only one that matters.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
m:brgr
I’m itching to play guitar right now (a very common phenomenon these days, along with the urge to play piano) but I thought I’d give my impressions of my evening with Shelley and André and the oddly-named M:brgr.
It was crazy, on Tuesday night. It can really be a place where you can run up a major tab. Ohhh, yeah.
But I glommed onto the floor manager, whom I picked to be a co-owner and he sure was. Very nervous, but I‘d have been 15 times more nervous if I’d been in his shoes. He was extremely sweet and took the time out (I was purposely wearing my montrealfood.com T-Shirt) and we desultorily discussed business. Jeff was the name, so you know who to go to when you’re there.
But since I became a vegetable, I opted not for the burger (dumb, but room to go back) but the hot dog. Yes, a hot dog is a vegetable. And all I can say is, that through the conversation with Shelley and André somehow I polished it all off. And I have a mouse stomach. So . . . it was VERY GOOD.
It was way, WAY too loud, though. No, sillies, not the hot dog.
But I revisited Jeff several times during the evening and he seemed to be getting a bit less nervous.
The place was PACKED with lines out the door. That is weird for Montreal. And guess what? Jeff et al give lots of the profit to Children’s. In fact, that was the underlying reason for the making of the place.
Great guy, great place, a little too packed for me, but I will BE BACK.
It was crazy, on Tuesday night. It can really be a place where you can run up a major tab. Ohhh, yeah.
But I glommed onto the floor manager, whom I picked to be a co-owner and he sure was. Very nervous, but I‘d have been 15 times more nervous if I’d been in his shoes. He was extremely sweet and took the time out (I was purposely wearing my montrealfood.com T-Shirt) and we desultorily discussed business. Jeff was the name, so you know who to go to when you’re there.
But since I became a vegetable, I opted not for the burger (dumb, but room to go back) but the hot dog. Yes, a hot dog is a vegetable. And all I can say is, that through the conversation with Shelley and André somehow I polished it all off. And I have a mouse stomach. So . . . it was VERY GOOD.
It was way, WAY too loud, though. No, sillies, not the hot dog.
But I revisited Jeff several times during the evening and he seemed to be getting a bit less nervous.
The place was PACKED with lines out the door. That is weird for Montreal. And guess what? Jeff et al give lots of the profit to Children’s. In fact, that was the underlying reason for the making of the place.
Great guy, great place, a little too packed for me, but I will BE BACK.
You Know It Can't Be Good When . . .
. . . you're drinking scotch at 1 p.m. on a weekday, you slept like a drowning rat in a barrel, you have to take a nap and go to the bank and then go out to dinner with Shelley.
Going out to dinner with Shelley is like, super- ultra-mega. She brooks no idiots. Cancelling at the last minute is definitely NOT an option. But her husband is a calming influence and you know that he is going to get you through the night. May even drive you home! (Just kidding, Shell! Please don't whip me with the pigeon feathers, not again!)
And play piano. That gets you through the day.
Hasta.
Going out to dinner with Shelley is like, super- ultra-mega. She brooks no idiots. Cancelling at the last minute is definitely NOT an option. But her husband is a calming influence and you know that he is going to get you through the night. May even drive you home! (Just kidding, Shell! Please don't whip me with the pigeon feathers, not again!)
And play piano. That gets you through the day.
Hasta.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Kids . . . Yep, they Ate TOO MANY

Went to see Kids Eat Crayons. It was a total Plateau evening, involving the 165, then the 144.
Then a crazy Indian place on Prince Arthur, where (natch) two workers had not shown up for work and they were swamped. But the BYOB white wine was absolutely brilliant.
Around 10:30 we headed to the club and while it wasn’t packed, I saw Ben (Henriques, absolute to the right) and these dudes are, umm, quite insane. Quite clinically disturbed. But in a GOOD way. Like the resident of 64 C/104, who likes to pick dandelions and then only eat the tiny inner petals. No harm done.
But the earplugs were a stroke of genius! We were the only ones right, right next to Ben’s monitor, and the bass was pulsing so hard I thought ventricular fibrillation was not an impossibility.
And here’s a pic of the band. Ben is on the far right. These dudes need some serious drugs for their condition, and I’m not sure if Health Canada covers these particular ailments. So donate, donate, donate.
My heart is there with you—they will be cured one day.
Friday, May 23, 2008
C'est quoi . . .
What is happiness? A cold beer after work, a walk in the summer park, a phone call from someone you love?
I think happiness is above all freedom from pain. Do you ever walk down a street and say to yourself, ”I really don’t hurt . . . anywhere!”?
And pain can very much be mental, so if you can clear yourself of physical and mental pain, you’re pretty much having the perfect day, aren’t you?
I’m pretty happy right now.
I think happiness is above all freedom from pain. Do you ever walk down a street and say to yourself, ”I really don’t hurt . . . anywhere!”?
And pain can very much be mental, so if you can clear yourself of physical and mental pain, you’re pretty much having the perfect day, aren’t you?
I’m pretty happy right now.
You Know You're a Loser if . . .
. . . you check your own blog to see what you posted. Like, I posted something juicy while I was asleep. Yep, you're in the next room and I'm still checking email to see if you sent me one.
Definitely a losing battle.
Definitely a losing battle.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Letters to David II (don't read if Japanese)
Let's not equate the dinosaurs who hold the levers of power with the ordinary, day-to-day folk. ;-)
>
>David
Yeah. One look at Letters From Iwo Jima was a total setoff for me, though. I remember I showed a published report copied from Yomiuri that bragged of a "How many Chinese heads our men in the forces can cut off" contest to my then-wife and she was quite properly appalled. Shut into absolute silence. It was after all, right in front of her. No denials à là Yasukuni!
Yes, it was the powers that were but it doesn't divorce it from the cultural vein of misadventure that characterises these people. If you really want to look at it that way, they're not much that removed from Al Qaeda. Ruthless, unfeeling, mentally unstable . . . need I go on? Of course, you're free to disagree--after all, you live there.
So, there is a special place in my heart for the Japanese--can't deny it. Thank God my dad was in Europe, or it would be a full-blown hatred.
But you're right. I've been to Hiroshima three times and it was always the little people who got trashed, wasn't it. Just really makes you want to get your hands on the big people. Hopefully they're all long in the grave. Like the people they put into it.
N
>
>David
Yeah. One look at Letters From Iwo Jima was a total setoff for me, though. I remember I showed a published report copied from Yomiuri that bragged of a "How many Chinese heads our men in the forces can cut off" contest to my then-wife and she was quite properly appalled. Shut into absolute silence. It was after all, right in front of her. No denials à là Yasukuni!
Yes, it was the powers that were but it doesn't divorce it from the cultural vein of misadventure that characterises these people. If you really want to look at it that way, they're not much that removed from Al Qaeda. Ruthless, unfeeling, mentally unstable . . . need I go on? Of course, you're free to disagree--after all, you live there.
So, there is a special place in my heart for the Japanese--can't deny it. Thank God my dad was in Europe, or it would be a full-blown hatred.
But you're right. I've been to Hiroshima three times and it was always the little people who got trashed, wasn't it. Just really makes you want to get your hands on the big people. Hopefully they're all long in the grave. Like the people they put into it.
N
Warning: Racist Rant: Letter to a Japanese Homeboy
David,
So very, very nice to hear from you. I've been there, in that hotel room! I'm with you 100%.
It's absolutely great to hear that all is going well. So nice to hear that baby (well, she isn't any more, but she and Tai-chan will always be in my mind!) is thriving. Tai-chan is so damned earnest, so JAPANESE that I know he will apply himself so well to any studies that come up. In a way, it's good that he's being raised by the Nazi Japanese -- oh, don't mistake me, there is still a part of me that really hates those bastards . . . -- but if he were here right now no doubt he would become a sloth like me. Doesn't mean I'm going to let them get away with controlling his life. No, I can be a turbo-charged dynamo if need be, and I will if anything untowards happens. It won't. But good to know that those bastards are finally considering the 20th century (not 21st) as a part of the plan.
Fucking militarists to the core. Just won't get off the "duty, honor, family, group" wagon. To the death! Yes, let's all commit mass suicide and make sure to kill the kids too because they don't know about honor or the Emperor yet. Death, that's the honorable way!
Sorry. Just had to let it out there! Like you marching up an escalator at Osaka station and smashing past all the bloody sheep.
Definitely a love-hate relationship with those people. Imagine getting married to Adolf Eichmann's daughter. Can you say dilemma?
Sure beats Hello Kitty.
So very, very nice to hear from you. I've been there, in that hotel room! I'm with you 100%.
It's absolutely great to hear that all is going well. So nice to hear that baby (well, she isn't any more, but she and Tai-chan will always be in my mind!) is thriving. Tai-chan is so damned earnest, so JAPANESE that I know he will apply himself so well to any studies that come up. In a way, it's good that he's being raised by the Nazi Japanese -- oh, don't mistake me, there is still a part of me that really hates those bastards . . . -- but if he were here right now no doubt he would become a sloth like me. Doesn't mean I'm going to let them get away with controlling his life. No, I can be a turbo-charged dynamo if need be, and I will if anything untowards happens. It won't. But good to know that those bastards are finally considering the 20th century (not 21st) as a part of the plan.
Fucking militarists to the core. Just won't get off the "duty, honor, family, group" wagon. To the death! Yes, let's all commit mass suicide and make sure to kill the kids too because they don't know about honor or the Emperor yet. Death, that's the honorable way!
Sorry. Just had to let it out there! Like you marching up an escalator at Osaka station and smashing past all the bloody sheep.
Definitely a love-hate relationship with those people. Imagine getting married to Adolf Eichmann's daughter. Can you say dilemma?
Sure beats Hello Kitty.
On Time Machines
This person left a comment on one of my posts and I went to check out her blog. Just one of those stumble-upons where you recognize a doppelganger. Doesn't happen often! But she had a post about time machines. Which led me to thinking . . . I've written fiction, largely of the science type, and have always been fascinated by the idea of time travel.
All the physics say it's not only possible, it's happening all around us. Life is really a two-way street -- it's just that we have to discover the other way. So tantalizingly close!
But in my musings, I've come to realise that looking to the past is a useless exercise. We possess a marvellous time machine already that can show us millions of years into the past; it's called a telescope. It's the future we need to be able to see.
And there is no telescope for that. But hey, we are in control every second, at least in a limited way, of our future. So we're all time travelers, aren't we?
All the physics say it's not only possible, it's happening all around us. Life is really a two-way street -- it's just that we have to discover the other way. So tantalizingly close!
But in my musings, I've come to realise that looking to the past is a useless exercise. We possess a marvellous time machine already that can show us millions of years into the past; it's called a telescope. It's the future we need to be able to see.
And there is no telescope for that. But hey, we are in control every second, at least in a limited way, of our future. So we're all time travelers, aren't we?
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
On the Edge of No Tomorrow
Katy Lied. Steely Dan.
Ever been there? I'm there right now. Come and join me. Like walking down the stairs and thinking there's another step. Except there isn't.
Ever been there? I'm there right now. Come and join me. Like walking down the stairs and thinking there's another step. Except there isn't.
Kids Eat Crayons
People, you need to be at the Kids Eat Crayons concert this Sunday. These guys are definitely certifiable maniacs. Men in white coats are always on standby at their concerts--they just have to be.
For someone who composes songs in the vein of Sir Elton John, these lunatics are a complete blast of fresh air. And they know it! Though in my correspondence with the sax player, Ben Henriques, they come across as the humble human beings they really are.
Just don't let them get near a musical instrument. Your ears will pay. These guys eat crayons, for sure -- probably with lots of ketchup and Kraft parmesan cheese.
For someone who composes songs in the vein of Sir Elton John, these lunatics are a complete blast of fresh air. And they know it! Though in my correspondence with the sax player, Ben Henriques, they come across as the humble human beings they really are.
Just don't let them get near a musical instrument. Your ears will pay. These guys eat crayons, for sure -- probably with lots of ketchup and Kraft parmesan cheese.
My Gay Computer
How can you miss a machine? Just please tell me, how? After all, we are most definitely not in the age of Isaac Asimov’s “I, Robot”.
But I miss my G5. My G5 is in the shop and has been there for two weeks. And most likely will be there for a couple more. I’m typing this on my laptop, who has had an unexpected renaissance as being my main machine — and no doubt having serious doubts about all the usage. But it’s nice to know she (Hmm, has to be she — the G5 is most definitely a He) is taking up the slack with barely a murmur of protest.
In my closet sits a Powerbook 5300CS that operated at a mere 44Mhz . . . or something pathetic like that. Compared to that, this is a supercomputer. I proved that to myself by recording two songs over the weekend — I just didn’t think it could be done with this tiny black box.
And I love her . . . but I miss my G5. Can one be gay about computers? If so, I'm formally outing myself.
But I miss my G5. My G5 is in the shop and has been there for two weeks. And most likely will be there for a couple more. I’m typing this on my laptop, who has had an unexpected renaissance as being my main machine — and no doubt having serious doubts about all the usage. But it’s nice to know she (Hmm, has to be she — the G5 is most definitely a He) is taking up the slack with barely a murmur of protest.
In my closet sits a Powerbook 5300CS that operated at a mere 44Mhz . . . or something pathetic like that. Compared to that, this is a supercomputer. I proved that to myself by recording two songs over the weekend — I just didn’t think it could be done with this tiny black box.
And I love her . . . but I miss my G5. Can one be gay about computers? If so, I'm formally outing myself.
Swearing
When I was in a heavy metal band in Montreal in the late seventies, the Greek lead singer literally punctuated every comment with the F word. It was, f***, like, f***, just like this, f***.
Well, when you're in a band it's like marrying three other guys (without the sex) and you all start to talk like each other. Well, guess what happened.
So, I do tend to swear, but my parents have never sworn, ever. Ever! And they're not Christian. The worst that ever came out of my mother's mouth was "Damn!" and my father's: "Fudge."
My sister has a potty mouth, as do most of my other relatives and friends, but I drew the line when my son was born. I clamped down. It's like being in church when my friends are around him, and I get really angry when they break the rules. And someone I know now never, ever swears, not even a "damn", and though it's seemingly trivial, it really, really makes a difference in life. F***in' A, it really does.
Well, when you're in a band it's like marrying three other guys (without the sex) and you all start to talk like each other. Well, guess what happened.
So, I do tend to swear, but my parents have never sworn, ever. Ever! And they're not Christian. The worst that ever came out of my mother's mouth was "Damn!" and my father's: "Fudge."
My sister has a potty mouth, as do most of my other relatives and friends, but I drew the line when my son was born. I clamped down. It's like being in church when my friends are around him, and I get really angry when they break the rules. And someone I know now never, ever swears, not even a "damn", and though it's seemingly trivial, it really, really makes a difference in life. F***in' A, it really does.
Scotch
My parents left 300 bottles of it in the closet when they left in 1989 (don't ask, long story) but when the beer runs dry and there's nothing else, that's what I hit. Thanks, Xavier, now a head of a medical clinic in England, for teaching me to drink it straight, no ice, all those years ago in Dakar. Fine doctor you turned out to be.
Well, dude, I'd like you to know I at least added back the ice. And I'll be cursing you tomorrow morning.
Well, dude, I'd like you to know I at least added back the ice. And I'll be cursing you tomorrow morning.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Kids
God, I love kids. No, you cynical bastards, I'm not a creepy Michael Jackson. I used to hate kids, and be proud of it. Noisy, annoying creatures--that's what they always were. Until I had one.
Now, just the sight of a kid in a stroller always brings a strong urge to go over and say hello. A kid's cry in a park, the kneeling parent trying to placate them, always makes me stop in my tracks these days.
They're so pure, so unjudgmental. Never anything except the wide-eyed joy with which they view life.
So hard to know that so many millions of them are not getting the life my son is getting; so hard to realise they will grow up so twisted and horrified by this life, and it will shape them as adults. And every kid becomes an adult. One hopes, at least.
Kids sniffing glue, kids being abused by their own families, kids not being allowed to be kids. So sad! And sometimes when I walk past the park and hear their tiny screams the tears come . . .
Now, just the sight of a kid in a stroller always brings a strong urge to go over and say hello. A kid's cry in a park, the kneeling parent trying to placate them, always makes me stop in my tracks these days.
They're so pure, so unjudgmental. Never anything except the wide-eyed joy with which they view life.
So hard to know that so many millions of them are not getting the life my son is getting; so hard to realise they will grow up so twisted and horrified by this life, and it will shape them as adults. And every kid becomes an adult. One hopes, at least.
Kids sniffing glue, kids being abused by their own families, kids not being allowed to be kids. So sad! And sometimes when I walk past the park and hear their tiny screams the tears come . . .
I Appreciate You Being Circular
These are "translations" of popular songs that were created by first translating the song into French using the program Power Translator, then using the English translator version of the program to translate the French back into English.
=========================================================================
"Help," by the Beatles.
The Assistance!
The assistance!, I require somebody,
The assistance!, not just anybody,
The assistance!, you know I require someone, Assistance!.
When I was younger, so much young that today,
I never required anybody's assistance in all way.
But now these days have gone, I am not if self-insured,
Now I find I have changed my spirit, I have opened some high wear them.
To help if you canister, I feel down,
And I appreciate you being circular
To help to obtain my feet to support on the ground,
Is what will not, helped me?
And now my life has changed in oh if a lot of manners,
My independence seems to disappear in the haze.
But each now and then I feel if uncertain,
I know that I just need like you I have never made before.
To help if you canister, I feel down
And I appreciate you being circular
To help, obtain my feet to support on the ground,
The will do not, help me,
To help,
To help, oh.
=========================================================================
"The Girl From Ipanema," by Antonio Carlos Jobim.
Girl of Ipanema
Great and suntan and youth and exquisite
The girl of Ipanema goes marching
And when it passes each an it passes goes "Ah."
When it walks it is as a Samba
That swings cool if and oscillations if gently
And when it passes each an it passes goes "Ah."
Oh, but it supervises if sadly
How can it her tells it her likes
Yes, it would would give its heart gladly
But each day when it walks to the sea
It does not look straight ahead, to it.
=========================================================================
"A Hard Day's Night" by the Beatles
A Hard day Night
It is been a hard day night, and I worked as a dog
It is been a hard day night, I would have to sleep as a log
But when I go home to you I will find things that you suitable
The will makes me feel agreement
You know I work all day to obtain you the money to buy you things
And it is value it just to hear you you tell go to give me whole
If why on the earth would have I groan, 'cause when I obtain you alone
You know I feel ok
When I am native whole seems to be straight
When I am native sensation you holding me tight, tight
Owww!
If why on the earth would have I groan, cause when I obtain you alone
You know I feel ok
You know I feel agreement
You know I feel agreement
=========================================================================
"Yellow Submarine," by the Beatles.
The Yellow Submarine
In the city where I was born
To live a man that sailed to sea
And it told us its life
In the ground of submarines
If we sailed until the sun
To find the sea of green
And we lived below waves
In our yellow submarine
We whole living in our yellow submarine,
Yellow yellow submarine, submarine
We whole living in our yellow submarine,
Yellow yellow submarine, submarine
And our friends are all on board
Far more of live them the door next
And the band begins to amuse themselves
We whole living in our yellow submarine,
Yellow yellow submarine, submarine
We whole living in our yellow submarine,
Yellow yellow submarine, submarine
As we live a life of affluence
Whole the world of us has all we need
The sky of blue and sea of green
In our yellow submarine.
=========================================================================
"Help," by the Beatles.
The Assistance!
The assistance!, I require somebody,
The assistance!, not just anybody,
The assistance!, you know I require someone, Assistance!.
When I was younger, so much young that today,
I never required anybody's assistance in all way.
But now these days have gone, I am not if self-insured,
Now I find I have changed my spirit, I have opened some high wear them.
To help if you canister, I feel down,
And I appreciate you being circular
To help to obtain my feet to support on the ground,
Is what will not, helped me?
And now my life has changed in oh if a lot of manners,
My independence seems to disappear in the haze.
But each now and then I feel if uncertain,
I know that I just need like you I have never made before.
To help if you canister, I feel down
And I appreciate you being circular
To help, obtain my feet to support on the ground,
The will do not, help me,
To help,
To help, oh.
=========================================================================
"The Girl From Ipanema," by Antonio Carlos Jobim.
Girl of Ipanema
Great and suntan and youth and exquisite
The girl of Ipanema goes marching
And when it passes each an it passes goes "Ah."
When it walks it is as a Samba
That swings cool if and oscillations if gently
And when it passes each an it passes goes "Ah."
Oh, but it supervises if sadly
How can it her tells it her likes
Yes, it would would give its heart gladly
But each day when it walks to the sea
It does not look straight ahead, to it.
=========================================================================
"A Hard Day's Night" by the Beatles
A Hard day Night
It is been a hard day night, and I worked as a dog
It is been a hard day night, I would have to sleep as a log
But when I go home to you I will find things that you suitable
The will makes me feel agreement
You know I work all day to obtain you the money to buy you things
And it is value it just to hear you you tell go to give me whole
If why on the earth would have I groan, 'cause when I obtain you alone
You know I feel ok
When I am native whole seems to be straight
When I am native sensation you holding me tight, tight
Owww!
If why on the earth would have I groan, cause when I obtain you alone
You know I feel ok
You know I feel agreement
You know I feel agreement
=========================================================================
"Yellow Submarine," by the Beatles.
The Yellow Submarine
In the city where I was born
To live a man that sailed to sea
And it told us its life
In the ground of submarines
If we sailed until the sun
To find the sea of green
And we lived below waves
In our yellow submarine
We whole living in our yellow submarine,
Yellow yellow submarine, submarine
We whole living in our yellow submarine,
Yellow yellow submarine, submarine
And our friends are all on board
Far more of live them the door next
And the band begins to amuse themselves
We whole living in our yellow submarine,
Yellow yellow submarine, submarine
We whole living in our yellow submarine,
Yellow yellow submarine, submarine
As we live a life of affluence
Whole the world of us has all we need
The sky of blue and sea of green
In our yellow submarine.
Music Blog?
Damn, despite my best intentions, this has silently morphed into a music blog. What happened to the food? Oh well, one must follow the heart. There are no rules (see below) in this business.
And I am formally in love with the Hammond B-3. Just the sound of it sends chills . . . don't have one and probably never will, but it is just so COOL.
And one of the best performers on it is Gerard Gibbs, who with Joey DeFrancesco pretty much takes over the role played by Jimmy Smith (may he be blasting the keys in Heaven).
And Gerard's guitar player is damn good as well . . . ya owe it to yourself to go to amazon.com and download Gerard's latest.
And I am formally in love with the Hammond B-3. Just the sound of it sends chills . . . don't have one and probably never will, but it is just so COOL.
And one of the best performers on it is Gerard Gibbs, who with Joey DeFrancesco pretty much takes over the role played by Jimmy Smith (may he be blasting the keys in Heaven).
And Gerard's guitar player is damn good as well . . . ya owe it to yourself to go to amazon.com and download Gerard's latest.
What's the Rule?
Do you have rules? You know, relationship rules. I guess I have no rules. Like, what, you somehow insist you won’t call the significant other more than once a day? And never if you saw them the same day?
No more than one email every 24 hours? And never reply to more than one from them a day, even if they send six?
My sister is not happy unless she’s on the phone with her husband at least once every two hours. A thought will strike her, no matter how trivial, and up will come the phone. He’s the same way.
And I would be, except that the significant other seems to be permanently out to lunch. Can you say “too much attention makes one nervous”?
Which are you? Do you have rules? I don’t.
No more than one email every 24 hours? And never reply to more than one from them a day, even if they send six?
My sister is not happy unless she’s on the phone with her husband at least once every two hours. A thought will strike her, no matter how trivial, and up will come the phone. He’s the same way.
And I would be, except that the significant other seems to be permanently out to lunch. Can you say “too much attention makes one nervous”?
Which are you? Do you have rules? I don’t.
Your Life Online
Gotta post to please all you faithful lurkers. Don't know who you are, but you are, so . . . gotta post something. I mean, a whole nine hours have gone by, but you need your Nick fix, right?
If you really look at it, it's quite bizarre to be writing an online diary. Can you imagine if you hand-wrote your thoughts of the day and affixed it to a bulletin board on a busy college campus? I thought not . . . but basically, that's what I and all the rest of the bloggers are doing. It's the online part that is the disconnect. (And I never knew that was a noun until I wrote it . . .)
Since I can't physically see you, I just assume you're not there. Oh, but you most definitely are. And it's quite hard to get used to: some stranger is reading this and I've never met them and I probably never will.
But it's also strangely liberating. I often post and then reread the next day and delete because I don't feel the same way any more; be it rage, goofiness, drama, what have you . . . but hey, that's why reality shows are so popular! Somehow we all like to see someone else's life ravel/unravel in real time, don't we? Then we actually feel like we know them personally on some level. But we don't.
So what is reality like at this moment? Drinking a Boréale Cuivrée and analyzing my latest tune on the usual headphones, sun milking the shojis and contemplating getting in an hour or so of guitar practice, not even thinking about what's for dinner, only knowing that it won't be involving meat.
So . . . there's your fix.
Happy now?
If you really look at it, it's quite bizarre to be writing an online diary. Can you imagine if you hand-wrote your thoughts of the day and affixed it to a bulletin board on a busy college campus? I thought not . . . but basically, that's what I and all the rest of the bloggers are doing. It's the online part that is the disconnect. (And I never knew that was a noun until I wrote it . . .)
Since I can't physically see you, I just assume you're not there. Oh, but you most definitely are. And it's quite hard to get used to: some stranger is reading this and I've never met them and I probably never will.
But it's also strangely liberating. I often post and then reread the next day and delete because I don't feel the same way any more; be it rage, goofiness, drama, what have you . . . but hey, that's why reality shows are so popular! Somehow we all like to see someone else's life ravel/unravel in real time, don't we? Then we actually feel like we know them personally on some level. But we don't.
So what is reality like at this moment? Drinking a Boréale Cuivrée and analyzing my latest tune on the usual headphones, sun milking the shojis and contemplating getting in an hour or so of guitar practice, not even thinking about what's for dinner, only knowing that it won't be involving meat.
So . . . there's your fix.
Happy now?
Elements in Double Time
Elements in Double Time
==========================================
Seems like I have known you for at least a year
Thirty days of sweetness oh so very clear
Every little kiss a miracle to feel
Stretching out forever as if it’s not real
Talking on the balcony, the setting sun
Shining in those eyes of yours that leap and run
Shadows creep in slowly and the light will fade
Mirrors of the times we’ve had and love we’ve made
Ordinary people, it’s just you and me
Making up our world, our private fantasy
Every moment lost
Every loving boundary crossed
Each new glass of wine
Elements in double time
Letters that I wrote you, most at three a.m.
Are they in ashes now or are you saving them
Ninety days from now will all this still be here
Could it be that joy meets passion and defeats the fear
On a scotch-fueled escapade a torch is burned
Savage lies the tiger whose gaze is turned
Broken vows of patience, of love undone
Keeps me hanging here inside this shining sun
==========================================
Seems like I have known you for at least a year
Thirty days of sweetness oh so very clear
Every little kiss a miracle to feel
Stretching out forever as if it’s not real
Talking on the balcony, the setting sun
Shining in those eyes of yours that leap and run
Shadows creep in slowly and the light will fade
Mirrors of the times we’ve had and love we’ve made
Ordinary people, it’s just you and me
Making up our world, our private fantasy
Every moment lost
Every loving boundary crossed
Each new glass of wine
Elements in double time
Letters that I wrote you, most at three a.m.
Are they in ashes now or are you saving them
Ninety days from now will all this still be here
Could it be that joy meets passion and defeats the fear
On a scotch-fueled escapade a torch is burned
Savage lies the tiger whose gaze is turned
Broken vows of patience, of love undone
Keeps me hanging here inside this shining sun
Sunday, May 18, 2008
So Much Sand
The latest. All done on my laptop, I'm proud to say! Well, I played piano on the piano and the guitar on the guitar, and sang, but the rest was done with this laptop.
Just sat down at the piano last night and two fingers made a tune . . . and one thing led to another. Suffice to say I didn't get much sleep. But you have to ride the horse when it's available.
And I am most unsatisfied with the sound quality. You will just have to bear with me there. Like I say, they're just sketches. I'll work 'em up properly when I get a real studio happening.
Oh, and the steak . . . a mis-steak. It all came up in the middle of the night. I guess I really have become a vegetable . . .
In case the link above didn't work: So Much Sand
LYRICS
SO MUCH SAND
Counting clouds and feeling rain
Never knowing if I’ll see you again
In a spirit world you slip away
Tell me all your secrets soon
Turn your blue stones, listen to this tune
When it’s fair, the clouds will fade away
Climb the mountain bracing for the fall
Tell yourself you have to have it all
Don’t you wait another single day
On a hunch I know you’ll make the call
You will run where other people crawl
You will go when all the rest of them stay
When I think of you, hold out my hand
You run through my fingers like so much sand
Are you truly only a mirage
Just a fleeting dream that never was
What would Einstein do in my place
Pulling Gs in outer space
Would continuums go on
An eternal motion machine
Chance to go where you have never been
Maybe learn the words to this song
Was it always over before it began
Graven in the stones with another man
I see the light come through the door
And I am with my love for ever more
Just sat down at the piano last night and two fingers made a tune . . . and one thing led to another. Suffice to say I didn't get much sleep. But you have to ride the horse when it's available.
And I am most unsatisfied with the sound quality. You will just have to bear with me there. Like I say, they're just sketches. I'll work 'em up properly when I get a real studio happening.
Oh, and the steak . . . a mis-steak. It all came up in the middle of the night. I guess I really have become a vegetable . . .
In case the link above didn't work: So Much Sand
LYRICS
SO MUCH SAND
Counting clouds and feeling rain
Never knowing if I’ll see you again
In a spirit world you slip away
Tell me all your secrets soon
Turn your blue stones, listen to this tune
When it’s fair, the clouds will fade away
Climb the mountain bracing for the fall
Tell yourself you have to have it all
Don’t you wait another single day
On a hunch I know you’ll make the call
You will run where other people crawl
You will go when all the rest of them stay
When I think of you, hold out my hand
You run through my fingers like so much sand
Are you truly only a mirage
Just a fleeting dream that never was
What would Einstein do in my place
Pulling Gs in outer space
Would continuums go on
An eternal motion machine
Chance to go where you have never been
Maybe learn the words to this song
Was it always over before it began
Graven in the stones with another man
I see the light come through the door
And I am with my love for ever more
Friday, May 16, 2008
Keel the Vegetables! Keel Them All!
I just grilled a steak to go along with my last night’s vegetarian tacos, because my SO is not around.
But it was harsh, chewy and tasteless. I can’t believe an animal gave its life so I could say that.
Next time I’ll just go murder up some carrots.
But it was harsh, chewy and tasteless. I can’t believe an animal gave its life so I could say that.
Next time I’ll just go murder up some carrots.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Hip-hop Vegetables
Can you say “wrap?” Good. Now say "rice paper" . . . and you’re on your way to the most incredible taste sensation. The thing about meat, be it chicken or beef or pork or duck or quail, is that is can never be (or shouldn’t be) crunchy.
And the mouth craves crunchy! And the mouth also craves raw, sometimes . . . one gets tired of cooked, cooked, cooked.
So, we made incredible vegetable wraps—some would call them un-fried spring rolls—last night, and here is how you can, too.
You need:
Rice-paper wraps. These are usually disks, large or small, that look like translucent glass and are stiff and dry. You get them at your friendly Asian food store.
Shrimp, declawed and deveined, sautéed in sesame oil and garlic and julienned
Carrots, julienned (into matchsticks)
Red, orange or yellow pepper, julienned
Green onions, white part only, sliced lengthwise into long shards
Snow peas, threaded and both ends removed, sautéed briefly and then julienned, with
Shiitake mushrooms, sliced thinly and sauteéd with the snow peas.
Beansprouts
Cilantro, washed, leaves separated and patted dry
Serrano chiles, julienned (optional)
Method:
Get all your mise in place. Best to line up all the ingredients next to each other, assembly-line style. Have a clean kitchen towel at the ready. And go!
Put the rice paper disk in warm water for about thirty seconds. It’ll take a few tries to get used to how it handles. Quickly place the ingredients one by one , starting with the cilantro, on the bottom third of the rice paper disk. Roll the bottom up over the vegetables, then fold in the sides. Then complete the roll. You now have a vegetable wrap.
For dipping sauce:
Orange-chili dip:
1/4 cup orange juice, pulp included
2 tbsps. soy sauce
3 tbsps. mirin
1 tbsp. rice vinegar
1 tbsp. sesame oil
2 tbsps. Asian chili sauce, such as sambal oelek or chili-garlic sauce
1 tsp. nam pla (Thai fish sauce)
1 tsp. minced garlic
1/4 cup chopped green onion
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
Mix all ingredients thoroughly, let stand 30 minutes to blend before serving.
And the mouth craves crunchy! And the mouth also craves raw, sometimes . . . one gets tired of cooked, cooked, cooked.
So, we made incredible vegetable wraps—some would call them un-fried spring rolls—last night, and here is how you can, too.
You need:
Rice-paper wraps. These are usually disks, large or small, that look like translucent glass and are stiff and dry. You get them at your friendly Asian food store.
Shrimp, declawed and deveined, sautéed in sesame oil and garlic and julienned
Carrots, julienned (into matchsticks)
Red, orange or yellow pepper, julienned
Green onions, white part only, sliced lengthwise into long shards
Snow peas, threaded and both ends removed, sautéed briefly and then julienned, with
Shiitake mushrooms, sliced thinly and sauteéd with the snow peas.
Beansprouts
Cilantro, washed, leaves separated and patted dry
Serrano chiles, julienned (optional)
Method:
Get all your mise in place. Best to line up all the ingredients next to each other, assembly-line style. Have a clean kitchen towel at the ready. And go!
Put the rice paper disk in warm water for about thirty seconds. It’ll take a few tries to get used to how it handles. Quickly place the ingredients one by one , starting with the cilantro, on the bottom third of the rice paper disk. Roll the bottom up over the vegetables, then fold in the sides. Then complete the roll. You now have a vegetable wrap.
For dipping sauce:
Orange-chili dip:
1/4 cup orange juice, pulp included
2 tbsps. soy sauce
3 tbsps. mirin
1 tbsp. rice vinegar
1 tbsp. sesame oil
2 tbsps. Asian chili sauce, such as sambal oelek or chili-garlic sauce
1 tsp. nam pla (Thai fish sauce)
1 tsp. minced garlic
1/4 cup chopped green onion
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
Mix all ingredients thoroughly, let stand 30 minutes to blend before serving.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Watch Out, Little Blue Ball
I could not believe my ears today when I called the YMHA in Snowdon about a possible membership for racquetball. I was expecting the usual frightening news: $200 initiation fee, $120 a month, $10 per day for guest.
But they just started their summer package deal: $159 for three months, with access to all facilities (racquetball, weights, aerobics, cardio etc.) in their newly renovated space.
That’s $1.75 a day, people!
Philip (he’s the membership guy) will be happy to give you a tour any time. I’m heading down there tomorrow, cash clutched in fist. Already bought gloves, balls and eyeguards on eBay, so, little blue ball, here I come!
If you do go because you saw this post, mention me to Philip, who’ll tell me, and we’ll all go out to dinner on me after I whup your ass on the court.
See you there!
Ben Weider JCC
5400 Westbury Avenue, Snowdon
Tel.: (514) 737-6551 (Ask for Philip)
But they just started their summer package deal: $159 for three months, with access to all facilities (racquetball, weights, aerobics, cardio etc.) in their newly renovated space.
That’s $1.75 a day, people!
Philip (he’s the membership guy) will be happy to give you a tour any time. I’m heading down there tomorrow, cash clutched in fist. Already bought gloves, balls and eyeguards on eBay, so, little blue ball, here I come!
If you do go because you saw this post, mention me to Philip, who’ll tell me, and we’ll all go out to dinner on me after I whup your ass on the court.
See you there!
Ben Weider JCC
5400 Westbury Avenue, Snowdon
Tel.: (514) 737-6551 (Ask for Philip)
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Open Letter to Purveyors of Goods on the Web
I want to buy from you, I really do. But you make it so difficult. You see, I'm from Canada. This is a land of over thirty million people, but we seem to be all lumberjacks or maple-syrup eaters as far as you seem to be concerned.
You say you ship internationally and your form says "zip/postal code" but last time I checked there were no postal codes in the US, only in Canada. Yet your web form demands five digits.
And then there is "State/province". But there are only states in the selection list, no provinces. And when I try to enter Quebec by hand, of course it won't let me, because either you or your webpage designer is incompetent.
It's called FORETHOUGHT. There are 30,000,000 customers up here who only want to buy your stuff, except you won't let them.
Please go to amazon.com for a model on how to present and sell items.
For folks like me who have been on the Web since its inception and have done a fair amount of web design myself, after two clicks and confusing navigation I just go elsewhere. It's as simple as that. And you just lost a customer.
But PLEASE don't think you are alone. Not by any means! Incompetent webpage design is rampant.
I arrive at your page on "handlebars" through a search engine and there's no button that says "Home". Your site's navigation is homey at best, impenetrable at worst.
Don't let cousin Milton design your website--or do it yourself to save bucks! Have it done professionally and hash out all the possibilities with the coder. Try ordering yourself from your own company just to see how easy/hard the process is. Pretend you're a complete stranger trying to find something on your website.
These are not hard things to do.
But they are good things to do.
Cheers
Nick
PS That's eight figures. There are plenty of us up here, not just eskimos and walruses. Walruses don't have money, anyway.
You say you ship internationally and your form says "zip/postal code" but last time I checked there were no postal codes in the US, only in Canada. Yet your web form demands five digits.
And then there is "State/province". But there are only states in the selection list, no provinces. And when I try to enter Quebec by hand, of course it won't let me, because either you or your webpage designer is incompetent.
It's called FORETHOUGHT. There are 30,000,000 customers up here who only want to buy your stuff, except you won't let them.
Please go to amazon.com for a model on how to present and sell items.
For folks like me who have been on the Web since its inception and have done a fair amount of web design myself, after two clicks and confusing navigation I just go elsewhere. It's as simple as that. And you just lost a customer.
But PLEASE don't think you are alone. Not by any means! Incompetent webpage design is rampant.
I arrive at your page on "handlebars" through a search engine and there's no button that says "Home". Your site's navigation is homey at best, impenetrable at worst.
Don't let cousin Milton design your website--or do it yourself to save bucks! Have it done professionally and hash out all the possibilities with the coder. Try ordering yourself from your own company just to see how easy/hard the process is. Pretend you're a complete stranger trying to find something on your website.
These are not hard things to do.
But they are good things to do.
Cheers
Nick
PS That's eight figures. There are plenty of us up here, not just eskimos and walruses. Walruses don't have money, anyway.
Guitarist for The Dead

No, not the Grateful Dead, sillies . . . these dead are probably not so grateful, but I think I entertained at least some of them this afternoon. It was just such a nice day that I grabbed my acoustic, two Cuivrées, and the camera and made my way to the vast expanse at Notre-dâme-des-neiges cemetery and plunked myself down on a stolen Air Canada blanket and entertained the netherworldly troops for an hour or so.
Did a self-timer photo. Not the best, but you get the gist. Next time I'll bring my laptop and tape it. That would be better. Then you can listen to what all those souls below were no doubt dancing to . . .
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Amazon Downloads: Who Knew?
Never thought I'd say it, but this Amazon downloading thing is really cool. If you have an account, you can literally be listening to an album on your computer before the song that inspired the purchase has finished playing on the radio.
I'm not listening to the radio, but the Galaxy music system on Vidéotron (worth the entire subscription, if you ask me) and this is possibly the third one-click download I've made this month. $8.99 and the entire album is in iTunes within a matter of SECONDS. In this case, all complete even before the song was over.
This time it was Elaine Elias (who?) Sings Jobim. Really, really good.
Delectable. And easy. Saves me a bus ride into town, a search among the CD racks, $18.99 for a useless piece of packaging that takes up shelf space . . . need I go on? And she gets her cut, too. All's right with the world.
I'm not listening to the radio, but the Galaxy music system on Vidéotron (worth the entire subscription, if you ask me) and this is possibly the third one-click download I've made this month. $8.99 and the entire album is in iTunes within a matter of SECONDS. In this case, all complete even before the song was over.
This time it was Elaine Elias (who?) Sings Jobim. Really, really good.
Delectable. And easy. Saves me a bus ride into town, a search among the CD racks, $18.99 for a useless piece of packaging that takes up shelf space . . . need I go on? And she gets her cut, too. All's right with the world.
Amazing
The pesco-ovo-lacto-vegetarian saga continues. Last night it was Thai green curry with shrimp, something I usually do with chicken. Very odd to taste shrimp where chicken used to be, but I’m getting used to it. It’s just picking off the tails—that I will never get used to. One after all does not have to peel the tail feathers off every chicken breast.
And sesame-cashew rice noodle salad (no meat, no wheat) . . . rice noodles are a devil to make, much touchier than your ordinary pasta. Re: gluey on the outside, hard on the inside. Don’t you hate that? But I defeated it by putting the throwaway mess in the microwave in water for a few minutes and it actually turned out fine (recipe to follow).
Walked to the Asian store (Kim Phat, at Plaza Cote-des-Neiges) yesterday, and as usual it was like being a kid in a candy store. So many sauces, so little time. I could barely stagger home with my haul.
But my cucumber salad is becoming perfect, now that it’s being made and consumed in large amounts every day, so when the magic formula has been determined (it changes like the wind but is always good) it shall be posted.
Haven’t seen a chicken or a cow in almost a month now.
Amazing.
================================================================
Spicy Sesame Noodles with Chopped Peanuts and Thai Basil
1 tablespoon peanut oil
2 tablespoons minced peeled fresh ginger
4 garlic cloves, minced
3 tablespoons Asian sesame oil
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
1/8 cup mirin
1 tablespoon (or more) hot chili oil
Salt to taste (but can always adjust with soy sauce instead)
Packet Vietnamese rice vermicelli
12 green onions (white and pale green parts only), thinly sliced
1/2 cup coarsely chopped roasted peanuts
1/4 cup thinly sliced fresh Thai basil leaves
Heat peanut oil in small skillet over medium heat. Add ginger and garlic; sauté 1 minute. Transfer to large bowl. Add next 6 ingredients; whisk to blend.
Follow package directions (good luck!) for vermicelli. Drain thoroughly and transfer to bowl with sauce. Add sliced green onions and toss to coat noodles. Let stand at room temperature until noodles have absorbed dressing, tossing occasionally, about 1 hour. Stir in peanuts and Thai basil; toss again. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve at room temperature.
(After-note: the next morning the noodles had somehow magically become al dente; don't give up on them! It turned out to be awesome!)
And sesame-cashew rice noodle salad (no meat, no wheat) . . . rice noodles are a devil to make, much touchier than your ordinary pasta. Re: gluey on the outside, hard on the inside. Don’t you hate that? But I defeated it by putting the throwaway mess in the microwave in water for a few minutes and it actually turned out fine (recipe to follow).
Walked to the Asian store (Kim Phat, at Plaza Cote-des-Neiges) yesterday, and as usual it was like being a kid in a candy store. So many sauces, so little time. I could barely stagger home with my haul.
But my cucumber salad is becoming perfect, now that it’s being made and consumed in large amounts every day, so when the magic formula has been determined (it changes like the wind but is always good) it shall be posted.
Haven’t seen a chicken or a cow in almost a month now.
Amazing.
================================================================
Spicy Sesame Noodles with Chopped Peanuts and Thai Basil
1 tablespoon peanut oil
2 tablespoons minced peeled fresh ginger
4 garlic cloves, minced
3 tablespoons Asian sesame oil
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons rice vinegar
1/8 cup mirin
1 tablespoon (or more) hot chili oil
Salt to taste (but can always adjust with soy sauce instead)
Packet Vietnamese rice vermicelli
12 green onions (white and pale green parts only), thinly sliced
1/2 cup coarsely chopped roasted peanuts
1/4 cup thinly sliced fresh Thai basil leaves
Heat peanut oil in small skillet over medium heat. Add ginger and garlic; sauté 1 minute. Transfer to large bowl. Add next 6 ingredients; whisk to blend.
Follow package directions (good luck!) for vermicelli. Drain thoroughly and transfer to bowl with sauce. Add sliced green onions and toss to coat noodles. Let stand at room temperature until noodles have absorbed dressing, tossing occasionally, about 1 hour. Stir in peanuts and Thai basil; toss again. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve at room temperature.
(After-note: the next morning the noodles had somehow magically become al dente; don't give up on them! It turned out to be awesome!)
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Weirder than Sulawesian Gamelan marching music
Have been talking to this sax player who owns a studio in Montreal.
So I find out he’s in a band, Kids Eat Crayons, and it’s easily the most bizarre music I have ever heard, even weirder than Sulawesian Gamelan marching music.
They’re performing at Café Campus on the 25th and we’re going to go check it out. It’s gonna be weird but fun . . . you should too!
So I find out he’s in a band, Kids Eat Crayons, and it’s easily the most bizarre music I have ever heard, even weirder than Sulawesian Gamelan marching music.
They’re performing at Café Campus on the 25th and we’re going to go check it out. It’s gonna be weird but fun . . . you should too!
Monday, May 5, 2008
Acch, Into the Fire
It's been so long since I was actually in a band but I'm considering it now. Actually posted on craigslist and thought I'd share the moment so you can check out the latest tunes all in one place. Lovely bossa nova in the pipeline but I broke a string on the acoustic so it will have to wait. Jeez, soon I'll have a whole album here! Thanks for being the guinea pigs, dudes and dudettes--I'll get back to food soon. But now I'm busy plucking various strings and losing weight (though two bottles of Mousseux were consumed with two frites platters at La Petite Ardoise on Laurier--a location I'm casing for the Japanese boutique I'm going to make next year). $100 tab but what the hell--good time, good friends, it all goes away when you're six feet under
Anyway.
http://www.montrealfood.com/makeloveonmoon.mp3
http://www.montrealfood.com/notaclue.mp3
http://www.montrealfood.com/leahcomehome2.mp3
http://www.montrealfood.com/sweetgirl.mp3
Anyway.
http://www.montrealfood.com/makeloveonmoon.mp3
http://www.montrealfood.com/notaclue.mp3
http://www.montrealfood.com/leahcomehome2.mp3
http://www.montrealfood.com/sweetgirl.mp3
Friday, May 2, 2008
Make Love On the Moon
Wrote lyrics for the instrumental
The song is here.
Just have to find a studio to actually record this stuff in. It will happen. Vocals not great, but working on it.
MAKE LOVE ON THE MOON
Loving one, all so ever on the go
Will you listen now
Does your heart betray you so
Precious one, can you take the time to live
Can you see somehow
How much you have to give
There’s a saviour here
A bandaid for your soul
I’m just waiting, babe
And the halves become the whole
Gotta wing it now
And sing ourselves a tune
Yes we’ll sing it now
And make love on the moon
Make love on the moon
SAX BREAK!!!! (to come!)
Take the time to love a sunny day
And paint your walls all blue
Cause I know what’s eating you
Not so hard to spend the time alone
If you’re firm within yourself
And all your sins condone
There’s a saviour here
A bandaid for your soul
I’m just waiting, babe
And the halves become the whole
Gotta wing it now
And sing ourselves a tune
Yes we’ll sing it now
And make love on the moon
Make love on the moon
The song is here.
Just have to find a studio to actually record this stuff in. It will happen. Vocals not great, but working on it.
MAKE LOVE ON THE MOON
Loving one, all so ever on the go
Will you listen now
Does your heart betray you so
Precious one, can you take the time to live
Can you see somehow
How much you have to give
There’s a saviour here
A bandaid for your soul
I’m just waiting, babe
And the halves become the whole
Gotta wing it now
And sing ourselves a tune
Yes we’ll sing it now
And make love on the moon
Make love on the moon
SAX BREAK!!!! (to come!)
Take the time to love a sunny day
And paint your walls all blue
Cause I know what’s eating you
Not so hard to spend the time alone
If you’re firm within yourself
And all your sins condone
There’s a saviour here
A bandaid for your soul
I’m just waiting, babe
And the halves become the whole
Gotta wing it now
And sing ourselves a tune
Yes we’ll sing it now
And make love on the moon
Make love on the moon
Chris
My brother died in 2001 (muscular dystrophy) but my mother recently mailed me his diary, circa 1985 . . . he had my same mordant wit.
Entry:
“United 747 lost 9 over Hawaii. Right front door ripped off the fuselage skin, so 1st class got it."
The joke would now be ‘Aloha . . .’”
Chris was such a card. Now you know where I get it.
Entry:
“United 747 lost 9 over Hawaii. Right front door ripped off the fuselage skin, so 1st class got it."
The joke would now be ‘Aloha . . .’”
Chris was such a card. Now you know where I get it.
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