...I just need to stop listening to so much of The Cure. And Robert Blake's 'A Crowd of Drunken Lovers' album. And Emilia Dahlin's song 'Home to Grey'.
Oh, and if I could stop pining for the ex, that would be fantastic too.
2006-06-30
Blech
Why do I always get overly introspective and sometimes a touch too depressed around the end of June?
2006-06-26
My new favourite french expression
'avoir autre chats à fouetter' - 'to have other cats to whip'
The french equivalent of 'to have other fish to fry'.
This is right up there with what used to be my favourite french expression--'On n'a jamais gardé des vaches ensembles' - 'We never kept cows together.' i.e., It's none of your business.
Just thought I'd share.
The french equivalent of 'to have other fish to fry'.
This is right up there with what used to be my favourite french expression--'On n'a jamais gardé des vaches ensembles' - 'We never kept cows together.' i.e., It's none of your business.
Just thought I'd share.
2006-06-23
Perfect Cup of Coffee
I bought myself a stove-top espresso maker about a month ago and have been loving it. Still trying to get the hang of it, especially because it includes an insert so you can make only 3 cups instead of 6 cups--but there's not mark on the water reservoir to tell you quite where half is. And it's very subjective anyway.
Today, I made the perfect cup.
Generally, I mix it with some warm milk for a sort of faux latte. Usually it's soy milk and the brand that I buy has a very nice, very subtle nutty flavour to it. Added to the very subtle nutty flavour of the espresso today yielded the perfect cup.
I'm bad at describing flavours. Suffice it to say that I'm currently enjoying heaven in a mug. And needed to share.
Today, I made the perfect cup.
Generally, I mix it with some warm milk for a sort of faux latte. Usually it's soy milk and the brand that I buy has a very nice, very subtle nutty flavour to it. Added to the very subtle nutty flavour of the espresso today yielded the perfect cup.
I'm bad at describing flavours. Suffice it to say that I'm currently enjoying heaven in a mug. And needed to share.
2006-06-21
Dreams
I'm not one who often remembers his dreams. Even when I do remember them, they don't always tend to be so exciting.
I woke up this morning and remember TWO of my dreams last night. I'm only going to write about one of them here, though, because it's the far more exciting one and it had a repeat element from a dream I had a month or two ago--I think it might have been around Easter when I had this other dream.
The repeat element was the place. A church. My church. Except not. You know that feeling in a dream where you know a place and you know that it's a certain place even though it looks nothing like that place in real life?
The church in my dream was huge. Probably bigger than any church I can think of that I've ever been in. Lots of different sections of pews and lots of side chapels and such. Clearly a cathedral or something. The first time I dreamed about this church, I was late for the service and I was again late for service this time. The first time, there was a very big, very theatrical celebration going on but I don't remember the reason. There were people in costume, puppets, bands... maybe if church were like that every Sunday, more people would go (although they'd probably lose sight of what church is actually all about...). Last night, there was also a special service going on, but it was a first communion service combined with confirmation.
And I was there to man the espresso bar.
Pretty cool church in my dream, huh? Especially since the espresso bar was right up front. Not on the altar, but in the front section of pews. So, I'm late again for the service and I get there and start getting the bar ready and set up, the machine turned on and all this.
It seemed to make perfect sense that I should be doing this. I was just frazzled a bit because I was late (as I always stress when I espresso-train new hires: turn the machine on FIRST THING when you walk in the door in the morning. It takes 15-20 minutes to heat up and get up to pressure. Then you have to season the groups, check your grind setting, adjust your grind setting...).
So, the service is going on as I'm getting things ready. No one really seemed to notice or be bothered by the fact that I was late and was still trying to get ready to serve espresso (after the service, maybe?). Except that I didn't really know where anything was exactly. It was a pretty nice set-up. Very sleek. Stainless steel fridges and cabinets. But set into really nice wooden counters. Some kind of light-coloured wood. Thinking back on it, it's actually a horrid combination (steel + wood) but it was very impressive in the dream.
Despite the set-up being very nice, nothing was where I would have expected it to be. I kept opening cabinets and fridges thinking, clearly, this is where this should be. I kept having to go to the next pew/espresso station back to get things. Yes, there was more than one machine. There were four, actually. Two pews, one machine on the front and one on the back. They weren't actual pews, though, but these steel and wood cabinet instillation things. And wider than regular pews.
Like I said, it all made sense in the dream.
So, we came to the point in the service where the kids were actually going to celebrate their first communions and there were cakes and sparklers involved in that. And then there was only one girl who was going to be confirmed. And she had to get up and lay down on the altar itself and then she started to sink into it, as if the top were a platform that led down somewhere.
And then I woke up.
Questions? Comments? Concerns?
My mind is a fucked up place, I know. For the record, I hadn't had any coffee since about 5 yesterday afternoon. I had a pint of Trois Pistoles (those of you in Montreal know Trois Pistoles--it's a Montreal beer that, happily, I can easily get here, along with some of the other Unibroue beers) with dinner. And dinner wasn't anything out of the ordinary.
In other words, I don't think the dream was food-related. Incidentally, though, the other dream also had a very specific espresso sub-plot to it. Hm. Maybe I'm working too much? Yesterday was kind of a shit day at work.
I woke up this morning and remember TWO of my dreams last night. I'm only going to write about one of them here, though, because it's the far more exciting one and it had a repeat element from a dream I had a month or two ago--I think it might have been around Easter when I had this other dream.
The repeat element was the place. A church. My church. Except not. You know that feeling in a dream where you know a place and you know that it's a certain place even though it looks nothing like that place in real life?
The church in my dream was huge. Probably bigger than any church I can think of that I've ever been in. Lots of different sections of pews and lots of side chapels and such. Clearly a cathedral or something. The first time I dreamed about this church, I was late for the service and I was again late for service this time. The first time, there was a very big, very theatrical celebration going on but I don't remember the reason. There were people in costume, puppets, bands... maybe if church were like that every Sunday, more people would go (although they'd probably lose sight of what church is actually all about...). Last night, there was also a special service going on, but it was a first communion service combined with confirmation.
And I was there to man the espresso bar.
Pretty cool church in my dream, huh? Especially since the espresso bar was right up front. Not on the altar, but in the front section of pews. So, I'm late again for the service and I get there and start getting the bar ready and set up, the machine turned on and all this.
It seemed to make perfect sense that I should be doing this. I was just frazzled a bit because I was late (as I always stress when I espresso-train new hires: turn the machine on FIRST THING when you walk in the door in the morning. It takes 15-20 minutes to heat up and get up to pressure. Then you have to season the groups, check your grind setting, adjust your grind setting...).
So, the service is going on as I'm getting things ready. No one really seemed to notice or be bothered by the fact that I was late and was still trying to get ready to serve espresso (after the service, maybe?). Except that I didn't really know where anything was exactly. It was a pretty nice set-up. Very sleek. Stainless steel fridges and cabinets. But set into really nice wooden counters. Some kind of light-coloured wood. Thinking back on it, it's actually a horrid combination (steel + wood) but it was very impressive in the dream.
Despite the set-up being very nice, nothing was where I would have expected it to be. I kept opening cabinets and fridges thinking, clearly, this is where this should be. I kept having to go to the next pew/espresso station back to get things. Yes, there was more than one machine. There were four, actually. Two pews, one machine on the front and one on the back. They weren't actual pews, though, but these steel and wood cabinet instillation things. And wider than regular pews.
Like I said, it all made sense in the dream.
So, we came to the point in the service where the kids were actually going to celebrate their first communions and there were cakes and sparklers involved in that. And then there was only one girl who was going to be confirmed. And she had to get up and lay down on the altar itself and then she started to sink into it, as if the top were a platform that led down somewhere.
And then I woke up.
Questions? Comments? Concerns?
My mind is a fucked up place, I know. For the record, I hadn't had any coffee since about 5 yesterday afternoon. I had a pint of Trois Pistoles (those of you in Montreal know Trois Pistoles--it's a Montreal beer that, happily, I can easily get here, along with some of the other Unibroue beers) with dinner. And dinner wasn't anything out of the ordinary.
In other words, I don't think the dream was food-related. Incidentally, though, the other dream also had a very specific espresso sub-plot to it. Hm. Maybe I'm working too much? Yesterday was kind of a shit day at work.
2006-06-18
And in other news...
I'm totally broke. I just looked at my bills and whatnot for the rest of the month. Basically, I can't buy food. Which I might manage to squeak through, actually. I'll have to get creative, perhaps, but I'll figure it out.
Thank god for no-cover dancing nights.
Thank god for no-cover dancing nights.
I beg you…to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Do not search for the answers, which could not be given you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
Rainer Maria Rilke
I'm trying...
2006-06-17
Saturday update.
The parade was, assuming it started exactly at noon, 22 minutes long. No wonder I missed it last year.
The festival was okay but I ended up not there with anyone and so didn't stay for very long after running into enough people that I wanted to see. So I came home with plans to fall asleep during the soccer match.
Except that the soccer match turned out to be really quite exciting. So I napped afterwards.
I've just finished dinner and my friends should be here shortly to head out for a drink or two or three before heading to the block party and thence to the pier dance.
Fun times ahead, one can only hope...
The festival was okay but I ended up not there with anyone and so didn't stay for very long after running into enough people that I wanted to see. So I came home with plans to fall asleep during the soccer match.
Except that the soccer match turned out to be really quite exciting. So I napped afterwards.
I've just finished dinner and my friends should be here shortly to head out for a drink or two or three before heading to the block party and thence to the pier dance.
Fun times ahead, one can only hope...
2006-06-16
Southern Maine Pride 2006
Tomorrow's schedule:
Noon. Parade followed by the festival thingy.
2.30. Meet up with co-worker to watch the US get slaughtered by Italy in World Cup game.
Rest of the afternoon. Unplanned.
Early evening. Unplanned but will likely involve checking out the block party, popping into various and sundry providers of fine alcoholic beverages to say hello and happy pride to my favourite bartenders and probably getting dinner at some point.
Late evening. Dancing, dancing, dancing at the pier dance. Which, fingers crossed, will be on the pier this year and not in the Civic Center. The forecast is calling for isolate thunderstorms. Hopefully they will stay isolated to areas far beyond Portland.
In other news, the Christian Civic League (neither very Christian nor very Civic...discuss) is going to be protesting the parade. Because they're like that. If you're so inclined, here's their press release about it: http://www.cclmaine.org/movies/gayprideparade.htm.
It brings to mind a quote that I posted two years ago for Montreal pride from Harvey Milk.
Apparently, the Civic League are concerned to report the truth about what is going to happen tomorrow during the parade. In a public area. No doubt, whatever they do report will be sensationalised. The point being, I won't be surprised if some innocent Civic League member sees someone they know in whatever footage they might show and is shocked and appalled by seeing someone they know at such an ungodly event.
But that's kind of the point, isn't it? We are everywhere. We are their children. Once they realise that, it's not so scary anymore.
Noon. Parade followed by the festival thingy.
2.30. Meet up with co-worker to watch the US get slaughtered by Italy in World Cup game.
Rest of the afternoon. Unplanned.
Early evening. Unplanned but will likely involve checking out the block party, popping into various and sundry providers of fine alcoholic beverages to say hello and happy pride to my favourite bartenders and probably getting dinner at some point.
Late evening. Dancing, dancing, dancing at the pier dance. Which, fingers crossed, will be on the pier this year and not in the Civic Center. The forecast is calling for isolate thunderstorms. Hopefully they will stay isolated to areas far beyond Portland.
In other news, the Christian Civic League (neither very Christian nor very Civic...discuss) is going to be protesting the parade. Because they're like that. If you're so inclined, here's their press release about it: http://www.cclmaine.org/movies/gayprideparade.htm.
It brings to mind a quote that I posted two years ago for Montreal pride from Harvey Milk.
We must destroy the myths once and for all, shatter them. We must continue to speak out. Most importantly, every single gay person must come out […]. [O]nce they realise that we are indeed their children, that we are indeed everywhere, then every myth, every lie and innuendo will be destroyed once and for all.
Apparently, the Civic League are concerned to report the truth about what is going to happen tomorrow during the parade. In a public area. No doubt, whatever they do report will be sensationalised. The point being, I won't be surprised if some innocent Civic League member sees someone they know in whatever footage they might show and is shocked and appalled by seeing someone they know at such an ungodly event.
But that's kind of the point, isn't it? We are everywhere. We are their children. Once they realise that, it's not so scary anymore.
2006-06-15
2006-06-10
Frolicking with fiber
No, I didn't mistype that title.
A friend left me a voice mail on Thursday morning asking what I was up to on Saturday, as she had a 'fun field trip' planned and thought I might like to tag along. Over the course of some phone tag, all I was able to learn was that the field trip would involved livestock.
Naturally, that got my attention.
We finally were able to get one another on the phone on Friday late morning when all was revealed to me.
The Sixth Annual Maine Fiber Frolic was this weekend. She, an avid weaver (and thus an avid user of fiber), wanted to go and thought I might appreciate the chance to get out of the city since, not having a car, I'm pretty well bound by the confines of the peninsula and it gets really small really quickly (something, I think I've mentioned once or twice before...).
We planned to leave town about 10 to head north to Augusta--our fair state's capital--and then slightly east, for a drive of a little over an hour. We hit a snag with that plan when I realised that England's first World Cup game was this morning and 9 and wouldn't finish until about 11. (I'm secretly a fairly big international soccer fan. Not so secret anymore...)
So, we left after the match. Decent match, by the way. England won 1-0 against Paraguay.
I introduced my friend to the joy of Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me during the drive up. And then we caught up and she told me a few tales of her recent drive cross-country. I'm sure that there are many, many more but I may need to get her and her partner in crime together in one place and supply alcohol to loosen their tongues in order to hear them all.
The weather today was rather blah. As it has been for the most part since the beginning of May. We're all very ready for it not to rain anymore.
At the turn onto the road to the fairgrounds, there was a general store. I took a picture of their sign. I'm not sure how well you can read it, but it says 'Guns. Wedding Gowns. Cold Beer.' Rural Maine at its finest.
And then there was this goat, who, well, you can figure out what he's doing probably. Remember, goats have horns.
There were also sheep, llamas, alpacas, boarder collie demonstrations, and, of course, yummy food (there was a place selling lamb!...) I had THE BEST strawberry rhubarb pie, definitely the highlight of the day, aside from buying some new massage oil--'Mountain Mint' mmm--which, granted, has nothing to do with fiber, although the woman was also selling goat milk soap along with her herbal salves and such, and had pictures of her goats.
Then I came home and took a nap and had some dinner and now I'm sitting at Casco Bay Books, which is going quickly to become my home away from home again because I think my neighbours have caught on to the fact that I was stealing their internet and have cut me off. Ah well. It'll maybe keep me out of trouble more without internet access? Doubt it but it'll at least keep me from sitting at home on my ass all the time!
Back to work tomorrow. Next weekend, Southern Maine Pride. I'm going to try not to be twenty minutes late for the parade this year and maybe I'll actually catch it.
A friend left me a voice mail on Thursday morning asking what I was up to on Saturday, as she had a 'fun field trip' planned and thought I might like to tag along. Over the course of some phone tag, all I was able to learn was that the field trip would involved livestock.
Naturally, that got my attention.
We finally were able to get one another on the phone on Friday late morning when all was revealed to me.
The Sixth Annual Maine Fiber Frolic was this weekend. She, an avid weaver (and thus an avid user of fiber), wanted to go and thought I might appreciate the chance to get out of the city since, not having a car, I'm pretty well bound by the confines of the peninsula and it gets really small really quickly (something, I think I've mentioned once or twice before...).
We planned to leave town about 10 to head north to Augusta--our fair state's capital--and then slightly east, for a drive of a little over an hour. We hit a snag with that plan when I realised that England's first World Cup game was this morning and 9 and wouldn't finish until about 11. (I'm secretly a fairly big international soccer fan. Not so secret anymore...)
So, we left after the match. Decent match, by the way. England won 1-0 against Paraguay.
I introduced my friend to the joy of Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me during the drive up. And then we caught up and she told me a few tales of her recent drive cross-country. I'm sure that there are many, many more but I may need to get her and her partner in crime together in one place and supply alcohol to loosen their tongues in order to hear them all.
The weather today was rather blah. As it has been for the most part since the beginning of May. We're all very ready for it not to rain anymore.
At the turn onto the road to the fairgrounds, there was a general store. I took a picture of their sign. I'm not sure how well you can read it, but it says 'Guns. Wedding Gowns. Cold Beer.' Rural Maine at its finest.
And then there was this goat, who, well, you can figure out what he's doing probably. Remember, goats have horns.
There were also sheep, llamas, alpacas, boarder collie demonstrations, and, of course, yummy food (there was a place selling lamb!...) I had THE BEST strawberry rhubarb pie, definitely the highlight of the day, aside from buying some new massage oil--'Mountain Mint' mmm--which, granted, has nothing to do with fiber, although the woman was also selling goat milk soap along with her herbal salves and such, and had pictures of her goats.
Then I came home and took a nap and had some dinner and now I'm sitting at Casco Bay Books, which is going quickly to become my home away from home again because I think my neighbours have caught on to the fact that I was stealing their internet and have cut me off. Ah well. It'll maybe keep me out of trouble more without internet access? Doubt it but it'll at least keep me from sitting at home on my ass all the time!
Back to work tomorrow. Next weekend, Southern Maine Pride. I'm going to try not to be twenty minutes late for the parade this year and maybe I'll actually catch it.
2006-06-05
One. Year. Ago.
I've been here a year.
Rather mixed feelings about this.
It's been a very long year that went by oh so quickly.
I both dated the most older and the most younger guys I've ever dated.
I fell more in love than I've ever fallen in my life.
I think I managed to drink, last summer alone, more than I ever drank in my five years of university. That's probably note quite true, but it certainly seemed it. There's a reason Portland is called a drinking village with a fishing problem.
I've started going to church again.
I've started ever so slowly to pay off my student loans.
I've learned how to make fabulous espresso.
I've met lots of amazing people and made some pretty good friends.
I still miss Montreal. A lot.
I don't exactly regret having left. Portland hasn't been bad to me. It's not been Montreal, either. But I knew it wouldn't be.
I think I mentioned in the previous post that someone who hasn't known me for very long made the observation that it's pretty clear that this isn't where I'm meant to be.
I'm not really sure where I'm headed right now, but that's okay. No jobs yet in Boston but I'm still looking.
I'm simultaneously getting comfortable and anxious here.
Summer in Maine is a good thing. At least, it was last year.
A year later and these lines continue to rattle through my head...
Peut-être qu'il faut s'enfuir loin de son passé.
Toujours partir afin de mieux se retrouver.
Rather mixed feelings about this.
It's been a very long year that went by oh so quickly.
I both dated the most older and the most younger guys I've ever dated.
I fell more in love than I've ever fallen in my life.
I think I managed to drink, last summer alone, more than I ever drank in my five years of university. That's probably note quite true, but it certainly seemed it. There's a reason Portland is called a drinking village with a fishing problem.
I've started going to church again.
I've started ever so slowly to pay off my student loans.
I've learned how to make fabulous espresso.
I've met lots of amazing people and made some pretty good friends.
I still miss Montreal. A lot.
I don't exactly regret having left. Portland hasn't been bad to me. It's not been Montreal, either. But I knew it wouldn't be.
I think I mentioned in the previous post that someone who hasn't known me for very long made the observation that it's pretty clear that this isn't where I'm meant to be.
I'm not really sure where I'm headed right now, but that's okay. No jobs yet in Boston but I'm still looking.
I'm simultaneously getting comfortable and anxious here.
Summer in Maine is a good thing. At least, it was last year.
A year later and these lines continue to rattle through my head...
Peut-être qu'il faut s'enfuir loin de son passé.
Toujours partir afin de mieux se retrouver.
2006-06-02
June
I'm not quite ready for it to be June. For a couple of reasons.
Monday, the 5th, will mark one year that I've been in Portland. It's been quite a year. I have rather mixed feelings about the fact that I've been here a year. I don't regret having moved here, but it's not exactly been amazingly wonderful. Not that I quite expected that it would be. I mostly knew what I was getting myself into. Someone who's only known me for a week told me last night that it was pretty clear that I needed not to be here, that this was clearly not the place for me right now.
At the other end of the month is my birthday. Not that I feel all oh-woe-is-me-I'm-getting-older. Age is just a number. Thing is, I find that everyone always makes a much bigger deal out of my birthday than I do, which always kind of bugs me, and when I do try to make a big deal out of my birthday, it seems to have a tendency to fall flat on its face.
So I'm not having a birthday party. I'm having a St-Jean-Baptiste Day party instead. Not that I ever did much for it when I was living in Montreal, but it's conveniently on a Saturday this year, between the first day of summer and my birthday (well, it's always between the first day of summer and my birthday...). And my roommate and I have been saying since we moved into the apartment in October that we should have a party. So, you're all invited, of course.
And now I must go shower and try not to be too hung over and go get my hair cut.
Then I'll come home and nap. Mmm...bed.
Oh, did I mention that I had to close both stores last night, one right after the other? It was great. (sarcasm!) And I get to do it again on Sunday.
Monday, the 5th, will mark one year that I've been in Portland. It's been quite a year. I have rather mixed feelings about the fact that I've been here a year. I don't regret having moved here, but it's not exactly been amazingly wonderful. Not that I quite expected that it would be. I mostly knew what I was getting myself into. Someone who's only known me for a week told me last night that it was pretty clear that I needed not to be here, that this was clearly not the place for me right now.
At the other end of the month is my birthday. Not that I feel all oh-woe-is-me-I'm-getting-older. Age is just a number. Thing is, I find that everyone always makes a much bigger deal out of my birthday than I do, which always kind of bugs me, and when I do try to make a big deal out of my birthday, it seems to have a tendency to fall flat on its face.
So I'm not having a birthday party. I'm having a St-Jean-Baptiste Day party instead. Not that I ever did much for it when I was living in Montreal, but it's conveniently on a Saturday this year, between the first day of summer and my birthday (well, it's always between the first day of summer and my birthday...). And my roommate and I have been saying since we moved into the apartment in October that we should have a party. So, you're all invited, of course.
And now I must go shower and try not to be too hung over and go get my hair cut.
Then I'll come home and nap. Mmm...bed.
Oh, did I mention that I had to close both stores last night, one right after the other? It was great. (sarcasm!) And I get to do it again on Sunday.
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