I was planning on writing about the GG Awards today - and literary awards in general - but I'm feeling decidedly bummed out and just can't seem to summon the requisite energy and intelligence. I had a remarkably (well remarkable for me) productive day at work, but I also couldn't shake a "heavy heart" feeling for most of it. I should have known from the start that I'd be feeling out of sorts: I awoke this morning after having a dream about the ex, which made me feel wistful and sad - not an ideal way to begin the day! And my e-mail inbox was deadly silent all day, which (and I know this is going to sound terribly odd and probably pathetic, but I seem to be writing it anyway) made me feel even more alone. Even my regular e-mail procrastination partner wasn't prolific today (although she has a good excuse: she's ridiculously busy with work to the point where she's canceling a planned outing for Thursday night). Ah well, tomorrow is another day, as they say. And the good news is that I rarely have two days like this in a row. I can be moody, to be sure, but not often will a bad, depressive mood last longer than 24 hours. I always have to remind myself that days like this are a regular function of my emotional system. Who knows, they're probably even healthy.
Off shortly to meet a friend (really more of a acquaintance since I don't see him all that often, although I'm sort-of responsible for him meeting his now-wife) for drinks. Good timing since I think I need something alcoholic to help numb the downcast mood. It's turning into a rather social week, which is a nice change of pace.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Monday, November 20, 2006
TTC = Toronto Transit Crap
When I started writing this post this morning, I was in a fightin' mood and ready for a good rant. Now that it's almost 10:00 in the evening, I'm less in a ranting mood... Sometimes I wish I was more tempestuous - well, not really.
I heard on the radio this morning that the TTC (the Toronto Transit Commission for you out-of-town readers) is attacking the increasing problem of counterfeit tokens not by introducing the most-obvious solution - implementing a much-needed smart-card system - but by (wait for it) ... introducing a new brand token! How wonderfully 20th century of them. (If you're curious about how it looks, check out this link.
Frankly, I'm embarrassed by our transit system. We must still be the only major city in the world that continues to use the damn token. In defending the tiny token, TTC chief Howard Moscoe said that the TTC was the first transit system in the world to utilize the token system back when the subway opened in 1954. Er, Howie: that was over half a century ago! Technology has, like, you know, progressed a little since then. He did concede that Toronto will eventually have a smart card system - by the year 2015. That's nine years, by my count.
Maybe I'm just resentful because I've probably squandered about $20 in lost tokens over the years, but it strikes me that the TTC is trying to put off the inevitable for some unknown reason (ok, I know the real reason: $$$). I even had a token malfunction this past weekend: at the Yonge St. entrance the other night, I lost a token by putting it in the turnstile only for it not to work. (Serves me right: I should have gone with my original instincts and taken my bike.) To me, it's a symptom of what's really wrong with this city: instead of thinking long-term, the city decides to enact these short-term, patchwork solutions rather than having any real vision.
Believe me when I say I was more in a rant mood this morning. This is pretty tepid, I agree.
I heard on the radio this morning that the TTC (the Toronto Transit Commission for you out-of-town readers) is attacking the increasing problem of counterfeit tokens not by introducing the most-obvious solution - implementing a much-needed smart-card system - but by (wait for it) ... introducing a new brand token! How wonderfully 20th century of them. (If you're curious about how it looks, check out this link.
Frankly, I'm embarrassed by our transit system. We must still be the only major city in the world that continues to use the damn token. In defending the tiny token, TTC chief Howard Moscoe said that the TTC was the first transit system in the world to utilize the token system back when the subway opened in 1954. Er, Howie: that was over half a century ago! Technology has, like, you know, progressed a little since then. He did concede that Toronto will eventually have a smart card system - by the year 2015. That's nine years, by my count.
Maybe I'm just resentful because I've probably squandered about $20 in lost tokens over the years, but it strikes me that the TTC is trying to put off the inevitable for some unknown reason (ok, I know the real reason: $$$). I even had a token malfunction this past weekend: at the Yonge St. entrance the other night, I lost a token by putting it in the turnstile only for it not to work. (Serves me right: I should have gone with my original instincts and taken my bike.) To me, it's a symptom of what's really wrong with this city: instead of thinking long-term, the city decides to enact these short-term, patchwork solutions rather than having any real vision.
Believe me when I say I was more in a rant mood this morning. This is pretty tepid, I agree.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Sunday musings
It seems like a bit of a lazy hazy Sunday. Unlike last week when I decided to undertake that (failed) attempt to move my bedroom up to the loft, I have no projects to attend to today. (Except fixing my toilet. It doesn't seem to be flushing too well.) I do think I'll head out for the afternoon: perhaps take in a film (I really should see Borat since everybody is talking about it, but it pains me to pay the ridiculous admission charge for a film that I know won't be greatly enhanced by a large screen and a Dolby sound system; I'm still tempted to wait for it to come out on DVD in a few months, so I might go to the new Bond film instead, or Babel) and then maybe catch a set of the jazz at the Pilot.
When I was at the library concert last night (which was pretty good, although attendance was sparse and there didn't seem to be much "energy" in the room; also, the TPL must invest in a new PA system since its current set-up is about as good/shitty as the system the Toronto subway uses for announcements), I was chatting with my friend H., and we were both lamenting the current sorry state of live jazz in this city. There have been some high-profile club closures, such as the Montreal Bistro earlier this summer, but also some of the smaller venues, such as the Red Guitar Bar on Markham St., have shut down. Thankfully there will always be a few places (The Pilot, for one, and the Rex Hotel) that will feature local musicians, but I'm still lamenting the loss of the Bistro (and the Senator, which closed about two years ago) since it essentially ensures that no top-flight players will be coming to the city for week-long engagements. No Brad Mehldau, for example (although he might have already outgrown playing a smaller club; I was fortunate to see him play on two consecutive nights in Chicago back in 1999 at the Jazz Showcase) or Geoff Keezer (who I've seen a few times at the Bistro, including a quartet he brought to town in the early 1990s that included Christian McBride and a young tenor hotshot named Joshua Redman). Even a stalwart such as Dick Hyman no longer has an appropriate venue to play in the city. It's a sad reality, and one that I don't see being rectified in the near future. Unless someone is willing to give me a couple of million dollars to take a chance on opening and operating a jazz club... (Having my own jazz bar has long been a dream of mine, actually, although I worry that I have too many hard-drinking friends that would expect drinks on the house, thus putting me out of business in short order.)
In other happenings, it's Grey Cup day here in Canada. Which reminds me of something else I read in the Souster correspondence I'm going through at work: in one letter from the early 1960s, he writes about the Grey Cup taking place in Toronto and how the city was effectively shut down for the few days prior to kick off. Man, how times have changed! If memory serves, the last time the game was held in Toronto, it was a complete disaster: it barely generated any buzz and attendance was fairly woeful. Perhaps there are too many events competing for our attentions these days, but it seems the Grey Cup barely raises a ripple anymore in terms of the country's conscious. (And perhaps that's a wholly Toronto-centric view. I'm pretty sure it's a much bigger deal out west.) Back in the mid-1980s, I would almost always be invited to some Grey Cup party: to eat chili (which I don't really like, actually), to place a wager and watch the game. It was a big deal. Hell, I even went to a Grey Cup game, back in 1981 at Olympic Stadium in Montreal. (My main memory was wearing some big goofy hat and freezing my ass off.)
Still, I'll probably watch some of the game. I'm not much of a football fan, but there's something about the Grey Cup that signifies "Canada." I can be patriotic when I have to be.
When I was at the library concert last night (which was pretty good, although attendance was sparse and there didn't seem to be much "energy" in the room; also, the TPL must invest in a new PA system since its current set-up is about as good/shitty as the system the Toronto subway uses for announcements), I was chatting with my friend H., and we were both lamenting the current sorry state of live jazz in this city. There have been some high-profile club closures, such as the Montreal Bistro earlier this summer, but also some of the smaller venues, such as the Red Guitar Bar on Markham St., have shut down. Thankfully there will always be a few places (The Pilot, for one, and the Rex Hotel) that will feature local musicians, but I'm still lamenting the loss of the Bistro (and the Senator, which closed about two years ago) since it essentially ensures that no top-flight players will be coming to the city for week-long engagements. No Brad Mehldau, for example (although he might have already outgrown playing a smaller club; I was fortunate to see him play on two consecutive nights in Chicago back in 1999 at the Jazz Showcase) or Geoff Keezer (who I've seen a few times at the Bistro, including a quartet he brought to town in the early 1990s that included Christian McBride and a young tenor hotshot named Joshua Redman). Even a stalwart such as Dick Hyman no longer has an appropriate venue to play in the city. It's a sad reality, and one that I don't see being rectified in the near future. Unless someone is willing to give me a couple of million dollars to take a chance on opening and operating a jazz club... (Having my own jazz bar has long been a dream of mine, actually, although I worry that I have too many hard-drinking friends that would expect drinks on the house, thus putting me out of business in short order.)
In other happenings, it's Grey Cup day here in Canada. Which reminds me of something else I read in the Souster correspondence I'm going through at work: in one letter from the early 1960s, he writes about the Grey Cup taking place in Toronto and how the city was effectively shut down for the few days prior to kick off. Man, how times have changed! If memory serves, the last time the game was held in Toronto, it was a complete disaster: it barely generated any buzz and attendance was fairly woeful. Perhaps there are too many events competing for our attentions these days, but it seems the Grey Cup barely raises a ripple anymore in terms of the country's conscious. (And perhaps that's a wholly Toronto-centric view. I'm pretty sure it's a much bigger deal out west.) Back in the mid-1980s, I would almost always be invited to some Grey Cup party: to eat chili (which I don't really like, actually), to place a wager and watch the game. It was a big deal. Hell, I even went to a Grey Cup game, back in 1981 at Olympic Stadium in Montreal. (My main memory was wearing some big goofy hat and freezing my ass off.)
Still, I'll probably watch some of the game. I'm not much of a football fan, but there's something about the Grey Cup that signifies "Canada." I can be patriotic when I have to be.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
The library and music
It seems that this week is turning into a minor music week for me. First there was Emm Gryner on Thursday - good concert where the new tunes from her latest album, The Summer of High Hopes, really shone, but the show seemed way too short (particularly given the price of the tickets: $12 plus an astounding $6 Ticketmaster "convenience" fee; it's amazing what those Ticketmaster bastards get away with) - and tonight it's a concert at the main branch of the Toronto Public Library. Yes, you read right: the TPL is hosting a concert! It's a free concert (although I think all the tickets have been snapped up; I was fortunate to obtain one from a librarian friend of mine) that is being labeled as a show "launching Toronto Public Library's new local music CD collection." Five artists are on the bill (none of whom, of course, I've heard of): Elliott Brood, Great Lake Swimmers, LAL, The Old Soul and Shad. And even though the music might not appeal to an aging non-hipster as myself, this is an event I'm happy to attend and support. I mean, think about: a concert at the library!
Given my profession, it's no surprise that I love libraries. I spent a big chunk of my childhood at the Roxboro Public Library in Montreal's West Island. And my teenage years in the suburban hell of Mississauga were partially endurable because of the Central Library on Hurontario (since demolished, I think) where I discovered both the joys of the New Yorker magazine and jazz (via the library's cassette collection). Given the amount of time I spent in libraries as a child and teenager, it's amazing that it took me so many years to figure out that my ideal profession was in a library. Even a year and a half into my current job, I still get a buzz thinking about where I work, particularly when I have to do "stacks retrieval" (we have a closed stacks, standard for a rare book library) which allows me to wander our various floors in search of some old, valuable book.
Those of us "in the know" about how wonderful libraries are don't need much prodding to use the services they offer. Yet marketing has never been a particular strength of most libraries. It's one of the reasons why the TPL is throwing this concert (there was one a couple of weeks ago at the North York Central Library): to say, "Hey, we're out here, use us." It's particularly important to get younger people aware of what the library can offer - and it doesn't hurt to show that it can somewhat hip by carrying a good, eclectic selection of music. (I've been relying heavily on the TPL's CD collection of late, especially for classical and opera which can be terribly expensive to purchase.)
So even though I might be one of the older patrons at this show tonight, I'm sure to have a great time. And on the plus side, I imagine I won't be the only one with braces on his teeth...
Given my profession, it's no surprise that I love libraries. I spent a big chunk of my childhood at the Roxboro Public Library in Montreal's West Island. And my teenage years in the suburban hell of Mississauga were partially endurable because of the Central Library on Hurontario (since demolished, I think) where I discovered both the joys of the New Yorker magazine and jazz (via the library's cassette collection). Given the amount of time I spent in libraries as a child and teenager, it's amazing that it took me so many years to figure out that my ideal profession was in a library. Even a year and a half into my current job, I still get a buzz thinking about where I work, particularly when I have to do "stacks retrieval" (we have a closed stacks, standard for a rare book library) which allows me to wander our various floors in search of some old, valuable book.
Those of us "in the know" about how wonderful libraries are don't need much prodding to use the services they offer. Yet marketing has never been a particular strength of most libraries. It's one of the reasons why the TPL is throwing this concert (there was one a couple of weeks ago at the North York Central Library): to say, "Hey, we're out here, use us." It's particularly important to get younger people aware of what the library can offer - and it doesn't hurt to show that it can somewhat hip by carrying a good, eclectic selection of music. (I've been relying heavily on the TPL's CD collection of late, especially for classical and opera which can be terribly expensive to purchase.)
So even though I might be one of the older patrons at this show tonight, I'm sure to have a great time. And on the plus side, I imagine I won't be the only one with braces on his teeth...
Friday, November 17, 2006
where are today's poetic boosters?
Sometimes I worry that I'm not as productive at work as I should be. And I'm not talking here about being unproductive because of procrastination - something I've long battled - but because I get too wrapped up reading the stuff I'm supposed to be processing and sorting. (For those that don't know, I'm an archivist who deals primarily with literary papers.) Today was a perfect example. For the past few days, I've been working on the papers of a Canadian poet. The box I was rooting through for much of the day today were his notes and research material for an unfinished book (and descriptive bibliography) on the history of Contact Press, perhaps the most important small press in Canada to emerge post-WWII.
I got caught up reading the letters (xeroxed because they were from other archives, although the library I work at has a fairly extensive collection of Contact Press material) that Raymond Souster, one of the co-founders (along with legends Irving Layton and Louis Dudek) of Contact, wrote to two American poets, Cid Corman and Charles Olson. It's almost a form of addiction for me: reading correspondence from 40 years ago! Ok, it has to at least be interesting correspondence. This stuff was great: Souster was primarily writing about the poetry scene in Canada and what the press was producing (I couldn't help smiling when I was reading his note to Corman in 1961 about an exciting new talent in Toronto, "a girl named Gwen Macewen," who at the time was only 20; he had already identified her as someone to watch), but there's also stuff about baseball (and mostly dealing with the Toronto Maple Leafs of the International League) and jazz. If someone wanted a quick snapshot of the literary scene in Toronto (and a little bit of Montreal) in the late 1950s and early 1960s, these letters are proverbial treasure troves.
What strikes me most about Souster's correspondence is how passionate he is about the whole literary movement, particularly poetry, in Canada at that time. Some of it is gossipy, to be sure (and who among us doesn't enjoy indulging in gossip when it concerns people and subjects we're interested in?), but there's also real substance to his passions and his arguments. There's almost a sense of urgency to his discussions about poetry - he wonders about the next generation of poets, about whether they're impassioned enough, whether they're going to carry the torch to the next generation. It got me thinking: is the poetry scene in this city like that today? Do people argue about the "importance" of poetry? Are there "movements" or philosophies of poetry that poets adhere to (or discount, for that matter)? Is there a vibrancy to these arguments? I'm not a poet so I can't say for certain. (And it's funny: I find myself less interested in the poetic works that Souster writes about than the personalities involved. I wonder if that reflects poorly on me?) But it is something I've been thinking about. (Don't worry: it doesn't keep me up at night.)
On a totally unrelated note, watched (again!) Before Sunset this evening. I was feeling a mite down and I find it's almost a form of therapy for me. There's something about that ending - Julie Delpy dancing to Nina Simone - that always leaves a smile on my face. Hope. Optimism.
I got caught up reading the letters (xeroxed because they were from other archives, although the library I work at has a fairly extensive collection of Contact Press material) that Raymond Souster, one of the co-founders (along with legends Irving Layton and Louis Dudek) of Contact, wrote to two American poets, Cid Corman and Charles Olson. It's almost a form of addiction for me: reading correspondence from 40 years ago! Ok, it has to at least be interesting correspondence. This stuff was great: Souster was primarily writing about the poetry scene in Canada and what the press was producing (I couldn't help smiling when I was reading his note to Corman in 1961 about an exciting new talent in Toronto, "a girl named Gwen Macewen," who at the time was only 20; he had already identified her as someone to watch), but there's also stuff about baseball (and mostly dealing with the Toronto Maple Leafs of the International League) and jazz. If someone wanted a quick snapshot of the literary scene in Toronto (and a little bit of Montreal) in the late 1950s and early 1960s, these letters are proverbial treasure troves.
What strikes me most about Souster's correspondence is how passionate he is about the whole literary movement, particularly poetry, in Canada at that time. Some of it is gossipy, to be sure (and who among us doesn't enjoy indulging in gossip when it concerns people and subjects we're interested in?), but there's also real substance to his passions and his arguments. There's almost a sense of urgency to his discussions about poetry - he wonders about the next generation of poets, about whether they're impassioned enough, whether they're going to carry the torch to the next generation. It got me thinking: is the poetry scene in this city like that today? Do people argue about the "importance" of poetry? Are there "movements" or philosophies of poetry that poets adhere to (or discount, for that matter)? Is there a vibrancy to these arguments? I'm not a poet so I can't say for certain. (And it's funny: I find myself less interested in the poetic works that Souster writes about than the personalities involved. I wonder if that reflects poorly on me?) But it is something I've been thinking about. (Don't worry: it doesn't keep me up at night.)
On a totally unrelated note, watched (again!) Before Sunset this evening. I was feeling a mite down and I find it's almost a form of therapy for me. There's something about that ending - Julie Delpy dancing to Nina Simone - that always leaves a smile on my face. Hope. Optimism.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Moods - who can figure them out?
A rare mid-day post from work! I don't really have much choice if I want to fulfill the post-a-day challenge. I'm heading straight from work to dinner, and then to the concert. As a result, I don't think I'll be home in time to meet the midnight deadline. Nor do I think I'll be much in the mood to write when I get home. My guess is that, once the cat is fed, I'll basically be looking to tumble into the warmth of my sheets.
I woke up in a great mood this morning, for some unknown reason. Maybe because I felt I (finally!) had a good, full-night's slumber. It rained all night, and sometimes there is nothing better than falling asleep while there's a great rain happening outside. (Unless of course you happen to be outside; that's not so good.)Yes, there's still some attendant sadness that I'm waking alone (it's amazing, even a full year out of my relationship, I still miss her physical presence, particularly in the mornings), but my spirits seemed to be rather high when I awoke. I then had a nice meandering walk in to work. It didn't rain (pity, because I like walking in the rain), but it was still a pleasant stroll.
When I walk for a longish length of time, I like to "test" the shuffle function of the ipod, to see whether it can pick the tunes that I'm in the mood to listen to. (Perhaps that's a sad reflection on the state of my life that that's the most exciting part of my day!) Today's choices were excellent. I began the walk with about 15 minutes of NPR Shuffle (which is basically a daily sampling from National Public Radio), and then the songs chosen for me included "Kiss of Life" by Peter Gabriel (I used to dance on the furniture to that song), Lesley Gore's "It's my Party" (a song which I have a whole childhood story to tell, but I just don't have time for it now) ... and now of course I can't remember the rest of the tunes. But they were all great.
In other news - and yes, this is becoming one of those "so this is what's happening in my day" posts that I usually hate to read on other people's blogs - I've been waiting for all kinds of books I have on hold to show up at my local library branch. Part of the problem is that I tend to put holds on new books, and it seems to take the TPL an eternity to process new books. Of course not satisfied with my number of current holds, I decided to add more to the list. If you're at all curious (and really, at this point, why wouldn't you be?), these are the books, CDs and DVDs I'm waiting on:
America's songs : the stories behind the songs of Broadway, Hollywood, and Tin Pan Alley / by Furia, Philip.
The audacity of hope : thoughts on reclaiming the American dream / by Obama, Barack.
The battle of the Five Spot : Ornette Coleman and the New York jazz field / by Lee, David.
The cunning little vixen Das schlaue Füchslein / by Janáček, Leoš.
Fidelio / by Beethoven, Ludwig van
Five leaves left / by Drake, Nick.
The greatest story ever sold : the decline and fall of truth from 9/11 to Katrina / by Rich, Frank.
The immortal game : a history of chess, or, How 32 carved pieces on a board illuminated our understanding of war, art, science, and the human brain / by Shenk, David.
Nixon in China : the week that changed the world / by Macmillan, Margaret Olwen.
Parallel realities / by DeJohnette, Jack.
Size matters : how height affects the health, happiness, and success of boys and the men they become / by Hall, Stephen S.
Smile / by Wilson, Brian.
Standards. Vol. 1 / by Jarrett, Keith.
Sublime honoring the music of Hank Jones / by Keezer, Geoff.
The war room / Trimark Home Video.
I wonder if one's library holds says much about a person?
I woke up in a great mood this morning, for some unknown reason. Maybe because I felt I (finally!) had a good, full-night's slumber. It rained all night, and sometimes there is nothing better than falling asleep while there's a great rain happening outside. (Unless of course you happen to be outside; that's not so good.)Yes, there's still some attendant sadness that I'm waking alone (it's amazing, even a full year out of my relationship, I still miss her physical presence, particularly in the mornings), but my spirits seemed to be rather high when I awoke. I then had a nice meandering walk in to work. It didn't rain (pity, because I like walking in the rain), but it was still a pleasant stroll.
When I walk for a longish length of time, I like to "test" the shuffle function of the ipod, to see whether it can pick the tunes that I'm in the mood to listen to. (Perhaps that's a sad reflection on the state of my life that that's the most exciting part of my day!) Today's choices were excellent. I began the walk with about 15 minutes of NPR Shuffle (which is basically a daily sampling from National Public Radio), and then the songs chosen for me included "Kiss of Life" by Peter Gabriel (I used to dance on the furniture to that song), Lesley Gore's "It's my Party" (a song which I have a whole childhood story to tell, but I just don't have time for it now) ... and now of course I can't remember the rest of the tunes. But they were all great.
In other news - and yes, this is becoming one of those "so this is what's happening in my day" posts that I usually hate to read on other people's blogs - I've been waiting for all kinds of books I have on hold to show up at my local library branch. Part of the problem is that I tend to put holds on new books, and it seems to take the TPL an eternity to process new books. Of course not satisfied with my number of current holds, I decided to add more to the list. If you're at all curious (and really, at this point, why wouldn't you be?), these are the books, CDs and DVDs I'm waiting on:
America's songs : the stories behind the songs of Broadway, Hollywood, and Tin Pan Alley / by Furia, Philip.
The audacity of hope : thoughts on reclaiming the American dream / by Obama, Barack.
The battle of the Five Spot : Ornette Coleman and the New York jazz field / by Lee, David.
The cunning little vixen Das schlaue Füchslein / by Janáček, Leoš.
Fidelio / by Beethoven, Ludwig van
Five leaves left / by Drake, Nick.
The greatest story ever sold : the decline and fall of truth from 9/11 to Katrina / by Rich, Frank.
The immortal game : a history of chess, or, How 32 carved pieces on a board illuminated our understanding of war, art, science, and the human brain / by Shenk, David.
Nixon in China : the week that changed the world / by Macmillan, Margaret Olwen.
Parallel realities / by DeJohnette, Jack.
Size matters : how height affects the health, happiness, and success of boys and the men they become / by Hall, Stephen S.
Smile / by Wilson, Brian.
Standards. Vol. 1 / by Jarrett, Keith.
Sublime honoring the music of Hank Jones / by Keezer, Geoff.
The war room / Trimark Home Video.
I wonder if one's library holds says much about a person?
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Random
Another random(s) post... Not much in the mood to formulate something insightful and incisive. (I can hear you: "When in the hell are you ever insightful or incisive?")
Just came home from hanging with a friend and indulging in some food and drink at one of our locals. I like the guy - he's one of my closest friends (particularly when I have a computer problem, he's the first one I call) - but at times I find him totally perplexing. The last couple of times I've seen him, he's told me about a woman at work that seems to be smitten with him. And even though he tells me he's attracted to her, he doesn't pursue it. His excuse? "If I show interest, that's it." What does that mean? Well, in his head, it essentially means that if he decides he wants to pursue a relationship, he has to commit to this woman wholeheartedly. He's a little funny that way: even though he hasn't had a girlfriend in, oh, ten years, he doesn't seem to think there's a middle ground between friendship and marriage. It's a sign of his inexperience with women. He's gun shy. I've told to him just ask her for a drink - "People do it all the time, you know," I've said - but he seems to reluctant to do something as small as that. I've thrown my hands up in the air and given up.
Tomorrow I'm going out with another guy who hasn't had a girlfriend for a while. He too is pretty gun shy with women. Actually, he's worse than that: he tends to be attracted to women that are either attached or are schlepping drinks in a bar (ie., the typical bar wench). (And before I get attacked for that comment, let me say I have nothing against waitresses. He happens to be attracted to a typical "type" of waitress: too young and too blonde for him.) Maybe it's a form of self defense: if one becomes attracted to an unattainable, he never has to make a move. This is one reason why, incidentally, I'm not a good friend to my female friends: I can't introduce them to guys that will actually take some initiative. And it seems I know a fairly large number of interesting single women. So my apologies to all you fine and wonderful women. Perhaps I'll make more of an attempt to expand my circle of male friends.
But the good news about tomorrow is that I'm going to see a concert: Emm Gryner is playing at the Mod Club on College. For those that don't know, Gryner is a Canadian singer/songwriter. She toils in relative obscurity in North America, but I read recently that she's become relatively popular in Europe, particularly Ireland. (Or maybe it's Scotland.) Anyway, I'm half-guessing what I'll be saying when the show is over and I'm walking out of the Mod Club: "Why the hell don't I go see more live music?"
Just came home from hanging with a friend and indulging in some food and drink at one of our locals. I like the guy - he's one of my closest friends (particularly when I have a computer problem, he's the first one I call) - but at times I find him totally perplexing. The last couple of times I've seen him, he's told me about a woman at work that seems to be smitten with him. And even though he tells me he's attracted to her, he doesn't pursue it. His excuse? "If I show interest, that's it." What does that mean? Well, in his head, it essentially means that if he decides he wants to pursue a relationship, he has to commit to this woman wholeheartedly. He's a little funny that way: even though he hasn't had a girlfriend in, oh, ten years, he doesn't seem to think there's a middle ground between friendship and marriage. It's a sign of his inexperience with women. He's gun shy. I've told to him just ask her for a drink - "People do it all the time, you know," I've said - but he seems to reluctant to do something as small as that. I've thrown my hands up in the air and given up.
Tomorrow I'm going out with another guy who hasn't had a girlfriend for a while. He too is pretty gun shy with women. Actually, he's worse than that: he tends to be attracted to women that are either attached or are schlepping drinks in a bar (ie., the typical bar wench). (And before I get attacked for that comment, let me say I have nothing against waitresses. He happens to be attracted to a typical "type" of waitress: too young and too blonde for him.) Maybe it's a form of self defense: if one becomes attracted to an unattainable, he never has to make a move. This is one reason why, incidentally, I'm not a good friend to my female friends: I can't introduce them to guys that will actually take some initiative. And it seems I know a fairly large number of interesting single women. So my apologies to all you fine and wonderful women. Perhaps I'll make more of an attempt to expand my circle of male friends.
But the good news about tomorrow is that I'm going to see a concert: Emm Gryner is playing at the Mod Club on College. For those that don't know, Gryner is a Canadian singer/songwriter. She toils in relative obscurity in North America, but I read recently that she's become relatively popular in Europe, particularly Ireland. (Or maybe it's Scotland.) Anyway, I'm half-guessing what I'll be saying when the show is over and I'm walking out of the Mod Club: "Why the hell don't I go see more live music?"
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