The first thing Mitch played this morning (nine o'clock, Sunday) was Ella Fitzgerald's "Black Coffee". It made me think of Lisa, super sass. We ate croissants with one egg basted soft each, a little cheese and some tea. Then he put on a record by Kurt Vile, who we listen to a lot around here. We each went our separate ways, him downtown and me to JJ's just down the street.
Strange day in la belle province. There is something between the size of a rat and a raccoon running laps along the joists above the ceiling. Montreal's grey skies look heavy with unshed rain and yet the pavement is dry. I went out walking today, dressed in my running gear (which I was later mocked for while dropping off a package with MJ before she rides the train back to Peterborough). With that, I lost all enthusiasm for running and then I just felt silly on the walk back home.
I changed again and went out to meet my darling. We walked down to St. Viateur (where all the hip people drink coffee) and then parted ways in our respective leather jackets with the fur. His is black, mine is brown. My leather and I turned south onto St. Laurent and hit all the vintage stores along the way; including this funny little Pop Up vintage shop (as they are known by here) filled with those kind of girls that made me long for Jillian. We would have blazed through there, scoped out the place and been gone before judgement settled on our backs like dust. PEACE. Instead, I scoped it out alone and left (empty handed) surprised by what and whom I found.
Upon entering, a terrifying long haired fellow in heels threw his paws on the fur of my collar and shrieked "is that attached to your jacket?" into my face. It was so jarring and unwanted. "Yes, it is" nowgetyourfuckinghandsoffmethankyouverymuch. The social network that I have been exposed to here is very strange in comparison to the community I ran with in Winnipegtown. It is very superficial and in your face. No thanks. I would rather stay at home and read. Clearly, the scene I have seen thus far is not for me. I did meet some very nice girls in a band called Irene & Walter (I think) yesterday. They were playing a show in the middle of the street (ten steps from where my frind Leo lives) and let me take their band photo, which felt nice. And then I met this kind woman named Illeanna (I think) who introduced me to this place in Montreal called Articule, and invited me to come to their General Assembly next week. Articule is a artist-run centre and gallery space for emerging contemporary artists. Volunteering would be a great way to start easing into the Montreal art community. Besides, bartending art openings is my jam!
Now I am home once again, drinking peppermint tea and wearing something different altogether.
This is dumb.
Also, I saw this in the dictionary today and felt sad afterwards: Noun (faux-naïf)-- a person who pretends to be ingenuous: the old device of a faux naif observing his own country as a foreigner. I am observing my country as a foreigner daily.
When will this change?
Disenchanted in the big city, Margot