Great Expectations

Tim Robbins, having one.

Great moments. When hard work and discipline combine to make success. Its an elixir we all crave, and its often rewarded. The Oscar's are not even finished yet and I can already hear the nattering of keyboards plugging Blogger and the like with Oscar posts. Well here is mine.

Sure, I watched the Oscar's too and one thing that struck me was how paradoxical my mood was to the way each of those lucky bastards must have felt as they leisurely strolled to the microphone to accept their statuette's. I had an important meeting today. It was not a great moment.

I should have known when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the beer cooler across the bar from me, while I was having breakfast at the MET that it would not be a good day. Taking part in the InFest activities since Wednesday had obviously taken its toll. I was looking pretty rough. Whether the festival celebrating artist run culture wanted me or not, I had many hours to kill this weekend and InFest kept me busy. I often found myself alone in crowded places, eating meals, or drinking in the bar, waiting for something to do, or happen. A few things did.

Friday. I finally ventured into the Western Front, one of the first art centers of its kind in the country. Its a huge old house with large open spaces for performance of any kind. Music, art, theatre, lectures, its mandate is keen, and so are its patrons and participants. This enthusiasm obviously had no effect on me as I sat contently eyeing a crowd of about 60 mingling about, while I drank 3$ Heineken's on the sidewall bleachers. I did manage to get out of my seat, venturing downstairs to meet some friends, and then rounding up a small party to go to some other galleries. We ended the night at a party in Gastown. The art was mediocre, and the beer too sweet, but the music was excellent. We didn't stay too long however, and I found the train ride home depressing as hell, leaving the city and all its treasures behind.

Saturday. I was back at ECIAD. Where I had graduated from in 2001, vowing foolishly to never return. Well I was back. Yup. Still hate the place. I was there because of a round table discussion on alternative economies. One of the panelists was Caterina Fake, who I have seen on more blogrolls than this lowly little site could ever manage to dream about. So I thought I would introduce myself. And I did, sort of. In an email after I got home. You see I want people to read this blog, but I don't want people to know who is writing it. So I decided to stay in the crowd, among the many.

Later that night InFest wrapped up at another warehouse party in East Van, I latched on to a few people so I wouldn't look too out of place and in the process met some nice folks from Halifax, Victoria, Toronto, and Cardiff. But I didn't last long, after 3 nights of this routine I was looking forward to a Big Mac and a bed. The pressure of Sunday had already started to weigh in on my mind.

It must have been somewhere around that time, the train ride home, or lounging in my bed, looking out at the little city beneath me, that I came to a decision. With discipline, I would follow my minds orders. Everyone, myself included, would benefit. It would take strength, conviction, most importantly, hard work. I knew it though, shortly after my restless sleep which I finally put to an end by getting up at 7am, I was headed for trouble. Anyway, I have already put the day's mistakes behind me, but I worry. My appetite for things that are bad for me and generally do me harm seems insatiable. Its the kind of thing that will, and has been, keeping me from many of those life defining moments. While the weekend was fun it could have been so much better, maybe nothing requiring an acceptance speech, but exceptional all the same.

How Soon Can You Start?

Strange. There is an echo in my house. I was doing some laundry tonight and noticed it when one of the baskets fell to the ground, making a shallow snap reverberate across the living room. Funny how a room sounds when it is empty. I could just imagine what my neighbors must have thought, if they happened to be waiting for the elevator in the hallway outside, as I stood there testing the acoustics. Intermittent yelps of UH! WHA! and HEY! Yup, there's an echo. I wonder how long it will take until I no longer notice it.

I am now the solo occupant of a 950sq ft., 9th floor, 2 bedroom plus den condo. Oh did I mention the balcony? The view also, is really something. Well actually I am not completely alone, a very special friend stays with me a few days here and there. Still, all this space is a waste. I have holed up, Bryan Wilson style, in my rather large bedroom.
I rarely venture out into the living room, and now since there is nothing in there, it hardly seems worthwhile. Tonight I ate pizza in bed while playing my X-Box, I could get used to this. Wait a second, I don't have much choice, I will have to get used to this.

Famous pop culture icons, immortalized in wax. Irresistible. I was tempted to assume a stance in between Paul Newman and Liz Taylor, it looked like ideal company to keep for an eternity. Well at least as long as the place manages to stay in business. I am among the living though, and belong in my bedroom. So it is here that I sit tonight, sharing these thought patterns with you.

I will move soon though, and this place will start to become unfamiliar, fading in detail as the years go by. There are new things happening now, and I am excited about them and the future that will inevitably unfold. I might even be a little bit optimistic.

Don't Look Back

Jimmy Stewart avoids his own life by watching others in Rear Window

15:31 was what the green LCD light on my cordless phone displayed. I had just ended a call from my dad. Fifteen minutes must be the longest conversation I have had with him in at least two years. He is a man of few words. It doesn't bother me much. It makes things easier, but I will lament the mutual silence when he is gone. Our conversation was not entirely pleasant. I had to explain all the garbage in my life right now, and hearing his skepticism at some of my plans has me second guessing.

My dad doesn't talk much, but he does have excellent taste in cinema, so when I was 13 years old and he suggested I watch Rear Window I took his advice and I have never forgotten the film since then. I still remember bringing it, all giddy with excitement, to a party in one of my fellow grade 7 student's basement. My classmates were clearly bored out of their minds and it didn't take long before the tape was yanked and replaced with Eddie Murphy's Delirious. I have seen Rear Window numerous times over the years, and think of it often.

Just this past weekend in fact, I thought of Rear Window when I came home drunk both Friday and Saturday night. My place has a pretty amazing view that wraps around the entire apartment, and while I am on the 9th floor, there are still plenty of vantage points where someone could watch me. Just like Jimmy. I rarely close the blinds. It kills the view.

Friday I helped some friends build a soundproof room in a warehouse they are renting in Chinatown. I am looking forward to the completion as it is really going to be a great place for musicians to play and hang out. But Friday they were just completing the drywall and I offered to help out. I mostly drank beer though, and by the time I left I was pretty loaded. Upon my arrival at home I proceeded to blast music and have my own little fashion show. I found myself over analyzing everything I tried on, walking back and forth in front of the mirror, rear view, side view, and lets not forget the in-motion view. This went on for over a half hour and I laughed to myself as I likened my behavior to the musician who lives across the courtyard from James Stewart's character in Rear Window. I imagined Jimmy Stewart out in the skyline of lights watching this display of drunken vanity. Surely he would be amused.

Saturday was spent hungover in bed with the phone waiting for someone, anyone, to call. It was really depressing and I felt like another one of Jimmy Stewart's neighbors in Rear Window. This time one of the female characters, the one that sets a table for two every night for dinner and cries herself to sleep, realizing she is alone.

When the night finally came I went to a theme party in an east side banquet hall. Participants were required to dress as if they were going to a prom. It was packed and everyone was dressed with the utmost authenticity. The venue was great. When I walked in the room was half empty and I felt like it was grade 12 again as I proceeded to pound back straight Jack Daniels on the rocks. No slow dances though, which I found very confusing. I left early as usual and slept through my train ride home. The door to my apartment swung open about 1:00am as I announced "Honey, I'm home!" to an empty house. I stood in the kitchen swaying back and forth while trying to eat Sapporo Ichiban noodle soup. The scene in Rear Window came to mind when the musician character comes home drunk and throws the sheet music that he has been working on to the ground. I hung up my clothes and went to sleep shortly after.

I had to get out of the house today, so I decided to see a movie of all things. Not Rear Window, but Big Fish. I admired Ewan McGregor's character, Edward Bloom, how he felt that love and fate were intertwined. I was jealous of his ambition and direction. Get the girl, a job, nice car, and make her happy. Does that kind of thing still work? Central to the film though is the relationship between father and son, and how even though we may be speaking to each other, we are not saying much that reveals who we are. I revealed much of myself this weekend and had you been across the way with binoculars in hand you would have seen me. But we all know that looking, is not knowing.