Tap dance.

Mozart and Hoegaarden on a Samedi midi. I woke at 6 or so this morning, having slept on and off throughout the night. Waking inside of a tent to the sound of rain beating against the fly was wonderful. Steph and I took a very impromptu camping trip last night. Montreal's Folk Festival on the (Lachine) Canal  was quite something. We set up our tent and wandered around the modest festival grounds tucked in alongside the canal across from the Atwater Market. Urban camping, there is a first for everything. Success!

I woke up in a tent this morning, my feet sore from dancing so ridiculously wildly last night (sudden tap came right out of me) kicking up dust on the gravel dance floor. I love a good groove. The weather was perfect and the one performance I saw by Belzébuth was incredible. This week I was thinking to myself how I could inspire new work when I came across a list on the internet that recommended changing the scenery, waking up in a surprising place, wood wandering, listening to new music and interacting with new people. Killing birds with one stone. The music made me think of Aunty Daryl, who I could feel somewhere in the crowd, just out of sight.

Steph and I ate breakfast outside and came home by train early in the morning. The Saturday putter around began and I finally cleaned up my work table which was buried in crap and paint supplies. I have been experimenting with gouache lately. I bought a little child's set from a French toy store near my home and have been enjoying playing around. Careful floral, little wreaths, Ash bows. Bored with the paint, I left to pick up my Kiev from Chanel's, loaded it up and took off for a mountain climb. And climb I did. All the way to the top along little footpath's leading to nowhere through the underbrush. Shot around lightly, my eyes having a hard time finding the contrast. Contrast vision. I shoot black and white film very differently than I do color, vice versa.

Came home, had lunch, and went to my favorite store Les Touilleurs to have a look about. Good Lord, french cookware. I love that place. Wandered around and lingered in front of the Global knives just long enough to catch the attention of the staff. A beautiful french woman approached me and we made conversation easily, both of us taken by the other's excitement for cooking utensils. Had I two hundred dollars to toss to the winds, I would have loved to waltz home with an almost cleaver by Global knives and Jamie Oliver's latest cookbook. When I asked her her favorite item to cook, she responded excitedly with "meats". I sighed, my hesitation in cooking meat in part to the lack of a roaster. "I need a god damned roaster". She laughed. Her face was incredible, wish I shot her portrait in store. I just didn't have the gumption to ask for portraits this afternoon. Empty handed, I returned to my home.

Later en route to pick up beer for Chanel's party ce soir, I came across a black and white speckled roaster  sitting on the sidewalk. A donner. To give. Perfect size, exactly what I was looking for. Life is funny. Off to Chanel's.