Tonight I had a headache so I took a couple of Advil and lay down with a warm wet cloth over my face. When I woke up, the room was completely dark and this seemed to dislodge an old memory like a loose tooth. I have this memory from when I was 4 or 5 that may or may not be entirely imagined. It hardly matters if it is real or not. The emotional memory of it is as real as anything I've ever felt.

It's a summer day and my brothers have decided to go swimming that afternoon in the pond behind our house. I'm told I can tag along. When I dig out my swimsuit I discover a tear and ask my mother to mend it. As soon as it is fixed I try them on. They're fine and like anyone else who was four or five, I spend the rest of the day running around in my swim trunks pretending to be Tarzan. Jumping from sofa to arm chair and back again is tiring business and I soon fall asleep on the chesterfield wrapped in my towel/cape.

When I awake the house is dark, lit only by the dusklight. I wander the house and no one is home. No one. Convinced that they've all gone swimming without me, I pull on my Road Runner sneakers (slip-on, loafer style Keds) and run through the field down to the pond. Now, I'm not exactly supposed to go to the pond alone but I figured everyone was looking for me so I'd better show up. The only trouble is I get to the pond and no one is there. No one. Maybe I had the wrong spot? I run along the shore thinking they can't be far but I'm wrong. There's no one. No one. By this time it's getting dark so I walk quickly in a panic home through the waist high grass. As I approach the house I see lights on in the kitchen. I'm sure I'm going to be in trouble for either missing the swim or not being home but when I walk into the kitchen no one even notices me. My parents had just come from a church meeting and were still gossiping about how two women from the Church gossip and my brothers (at least two of them) were arguing about a game of softball they had just come from playing in a nearby field (or maybe they were at the Stanley's? Of course, calling their loosely formed games a "game" was always a stretch. Someone threw a ball, someone hit a ball. Someone tried to catch a ball while someone else tried to find bases hidden in the grass.) when I ask my brother if they went swimming he just looks at me and says, "No, we were playing ball" and walks away. Then I ask my mother, "Did you go swimming?" and she says, "You can't go swimming now silly, it's dark out."

Then my question is quickly drowned out by the confusion and bustle that always seemed to rule our house in those days. I made my way down a dark stairway to our rec room and pulled out a book and sat on the floor and flipped through the pages. I don't remember the title but it was the story if a boy who overcomes his fear of the dark by catching fireflies in mason jars with his friends. I wished deeply that there would be a mason jar of fireflies for me but there never was. I fell asleep on that book and woke in my bed never knowing how I got there.

Posted via email from peterrogers's posterous

Manhattania

This opening scene from Woody Allen's "Manhattan" is why we should never ever try to make a movie about Manhattan in a 5-minute travel video. It is also one of the many films that creates the mythical New York we all have come to love and why so many people feel New York has that strange familiarity.



PS. Originally I wanted to post the scene from the Hayden Planetarium but I could only find it in Italian. Not that it matters, but I settled for the opening instead. By the way, this film with its creepy prescient love story of Woody Allen playing a man in love with a teen-ager is also the reason we might want to over look the fact that Woody Allen became a creepy older man in love with a teen-ager. Confused? Don't worry about it. Everyone is confused sometimes. Even Woody Allen.

4 Days & 3 Nights in 5 Minutes

One nice thing about holidays is you can capture them in pictures then force your friends to watch an excruciatingly dull slide show that lasts for 2 hours. Well, let me save you at least an hour and 55 minutes. This movie is just some clips I put together to capture some of the highlight reel stuff of my short visit to New York recently.



The one thing I omitted was my trip to the Highline park, because there were just too many photos and recordings to add, so I'll make a separate clip for that. If you'd rather not sit through the 5 minute movie, I'll be posting more photos which you can find here:

See my NYC photos on Flickr.

So tonight I found out where all the cool kids go...The Bowery Ballroom is where I heard (CDN) indie darling The Handsome Furs play. It was a great though short set. Then again it was a Tuesday night. When I left around 11 more cool kids were arriving. I cordially bid goodnight to the door man who asked increduosly, "You leavin'?" to which I answered "Yes, because someone spiked my beer - which made me 40-years-old" He replied, "I hear you" though I seriously doubt he did.

It's been a long day and a rare one when I left my glasses on all day because there was just too much to see.

I Get Around

I Got a "Can-more" Attitude

I Got a "Can-more" Attitude

Sometimes less is more, but other times more is just more, as in Canmore. The town is more than just scenic beauty, it's beautiful scenic views too! Oh, and it's sushi places, trails and hikes, deers snacking on bushes outside of movie theatres, air so clear you CAN'T taste it, cool nights, sunny days, micro-breweries and construction, construction, construction. Here's a short slide show on my visit.

Two Province Blacktop

Two Province Blacktop

1200 km from Toronto to Métis-sur-Mer

We drove 12 hours over 2 days to install a sonic potato battery for the 2008 International Garden Festival at the Jardins de Métis, Quebec. Unfortunately, we hit an impenetrable wall of rain and cold that lasted for the whole week. Then, just when we thought we'd enjoy a day in Quebec City, our car decided against it. The car alarm went haywire, reversing itself by being armed when the doors were unlocked (think about that for a second; unlocking the doors armed the alarm). We solved that problem with a cunning duo-key-cum-security-deposit-box solution. All that crap aside, it was still worth the drive, if not for the potatoes then for the memories. I don't recall them at the moment, but I'm sure it will come. Mostly because I recorded everything.

Mentioned:
Pomme de parterre
International Garden Festival

D.I.Y.T.O.

D.I.Y.T.O.

Sarah in gallery, originally uploaded by rowdyman.

Before Sarah stayed with us this weekend, I did a lot of hand wringing over what exactly we could do and see in Toronto. I live here, I don't visit here. Plus, I really wanted Sarah to see something other than the usual suspects of the CN Tower, Hockey Hall of Fame, Eaton Centre (there's a triad of concrete tourism for you). What we did do made for a noteworthy list and probably a good template for anyone coming to visit Toronto. So here's a list of spots to hit in the city (this is as much a reminder list to myself as it is a list for anyone else).

Little Italy
Go for a meal on the patio of Café Diplomatico and people watch while you eat. On that same strip you could check out one of the best CD shops in the country, Soundscapes, or even one of Toronto's better used book stores, Balfour Books. Then cap a stroll along corso Italia with a stop at Sicilan Café for some home made Gelato. If you're still up for more entertainment, make your way to Dundas West and Lula Lounge for a night of latin music and maybe even a dance competition.

Try to Find China Town
The next day, hit the streets for a walking tour through Kensington Market and China Town. A quick subway ride up to Bloor and you can take in an exhibit about Shanghai, or see an incredible display of minerals and crystals at the recently renovated Royal Ontario Museum. Still in the museum mood? You could walk across the street to the Gardiner Ceramic Museum - actually, it's worth the walk even if you can only spare 10 minutes to peruse the tiny but beautifully stocked museum shop. Hungry after all that? Head North on Avenue Road then hang on a left on Prince Arthur Avenue until you come to the Bedford Academy. The fare is typical pub food, but the patio and the street are what make this spot special (oh and if you're visiting during the Film Festival, it's a star spotting hot spot).

Take to the Lake
Heading to down to Queen's Quay you can usually find a free performance or exhibit at the Harbourfront Centre. If you're lucky, you'll see glass blowers or ceramic artists at work in the craft studios. There are usually 3-4 exhibits on at Harbourfront at any given time. From December through February there's also a public skating rink (like the one at Nathan Phillips Square). In the summer there are regular concerts, or outdoor movie screenings, or food festivals. Nearby, as part of the Harbourfront is the contemporary art gallery the Powerplant. If the weather is good, it's great to take a bike on the ferry to Toronto Island and spend the afternoon exploring.

In our Hood
Of course, if you're visiting us, by default you'll be visiting Roncesvalles. Basically, you can work off all those Polish donut calories by walking to High Park. Or you could head to Queen West to go antique shopping or head down to the Lake and see the Toronto skyline from the Western Lakeshore. Which ever you head you're bound to run into some part of Toronto you've never heard about before.

David Sedaris' recent piece in the New Yorker has some strangely familiar elements to it (Polish mothers, anguished sons, air travel). For years, Italian momma's boys have been parodied in film and television but what of Polish men and their mothers?

NL 2007

NL 2007

Below are some photos I've uploaded of the trip. As I upload more, this slide show should update automatically.

Goulding

Goulding

Tuesday I thought I had landed in Paradise, but instead found myself in the Goulds. I say "The Goulds" because it is nearly impossible for my brain to allow my tongue to say just "Goulds". I don't know why and for the most part have given up asking.

What, you might wonder, was so paradisiacal about my parents' garden? The weather for starters. Perhaps fine weather is so rare in these parts, that when it occurs it's as though a desiccated man lost in the desert had just been given water filtered through honey and citrus leaves. That is to say, it is exquisitely appreciated. The sky above me was strewn with streamers of cloud and blue and pink and purple. The grass, due to frequent summer rains, was thick and practically glowed it's chlorophyll green.

I had been sleeping on the patio in a homemade lounger but awoke and decided to find some chives my mother had planted. I had expected them to be difficult to spot amongst all the other greenery, but I found them easily as they were a huge spiky bush. Taking a few stems was entirely unnoticeable. Behind me were the raspberry bushes which are easily over five feet in height. A few (more than a few) jewel red clusters beckoned me. There really is no language that can describe the burst of sweetness from a fresh picked berry. It is the sensation that we use to describe other things by ("sweet as a fresh picked berry"), but there are no other things to describe it. Remembering the crush of juice and seeds on my tongue can almost make me cry. I looked at the hills beyond Fourth Pond, with my mouth full of berries, I asked myself, "Where am I? What is this place?"

Yet, there is trouble in paradise. In the week I've been home, I haven't recycled a single scrap of garbage, nor dropped even a seed in any compost, and have driven everywhere and exclusively in 4-wheel drive vehicles. It's probably the strangest thing about Newfoundland. People who live here claim it as one of the most beautiful places in the world and wouldn't dream of living anywhere else but they treat the place like a giant garbage dump. Let's not mention that Newfoundland is also Canada's second fattest province (though surprisingly, St.John's is only Canada's tenth fattest city). I'm also curious why, whenever I come home, the radio is playing exactly the same music as when I left in 1988?

All in all though, it's been a good trip and one I wish was easier to do. For now, I'll take what I can get, including the jars of pickled onion and tomatoes and bakeapple and blueberry jams.

Wired For Sound

Wired For Sound

A Hinterland Who's Who

This is Jardin de Métis and it is here that we found ourselves to construct a curious confection. A half-submerged clapboard shed with a roof as big as an aircraft wing, houses a chirping, talking and blinking battery powered by local Gaspé potatoes. The shed is surrounded by planted heritage variety potatoes which are bordered by marigolds and a simple wooden walkway. Some 1200 potatoes within the shed, each pierced with a pair of metal electrodes roughly the size of a stick of Wrigley's gum, sit, spiked on nails on narrow shelves and are connected by red sheathed wires to a 12 different mason jars. Each jar contains its own innards of wires, a single clear LED and an electronic chip and in turn is connected to a 4"x 4" plastic speaker. The speakers, controlled by the chips and powered by the potatoes emit uniquely tuned beeps, bops, chirps and squawks. Each beep is preceded by a short pulse from the LED that is not unlike a firefly's spark. The effect, when standing in the shed, is strangely funny, irritating, mesmerizing and eventually meditative. Your first reaction is to laugh.

Dave posted this short video recently and the folks at Jardin de Métis have posted the photos you'll see in the Flickr set. Just think of this as Potato Power.

Click here to witness the power of patates!


It should be said that the week we were in Mont Joli or (wherever it was we actually stayed) was intensely social. We were housed with other artists and designers and every night there was a large gathering of people making supper, drinking beer and doing dishes. Being out of cell phone range, without Internet access, without television, radio or newspapers was disarming at first but you got used to it. I suppose it forced you to be social. Without our commodities, all we were left with was our humanity.

... and potatoes.

p.

This week I've been in San Francisco for work. One fun thing has been a new phone we've been trying out. It's really pretty neat as it has a built in camera. The shots are sort of fuzzy but it's still pretty amazing what can be done on such a little phone. Why I remember a time, back in the day, when telephones could only be used for talking and cameras weighed several hundred pounds, and we wore onions on our belts (as was the fashion at the time) and because of the war we had to wear Spanish Onions, though shallots were considered more stylish...well, I digress, I'll post some pics soon.
Peter

Courtyard San Francisco Downtown -- San Francisco, CA USA; Hotel Rates and Reservation Information Available at Marriott.com - this is the hotel I'll be staying at during my most recent trip to San Francisco. It's okay, but it ain't the Argent, brother. Welcome to the "Brother, can you spare a dime" corporate culture.

sigh...no more boondoogles.