The Bus Chronicles: Daniel

My weekend was pretty good, starting with a nice surprise party that left my friend H pissing his pants (he was really surprised), and a Church concert thing (urgh) because my Mom is kind of devout, and some Bishop was going to be there too. And then I had to rush, late as I was, to my friend's directing debut in a play. (I was only able to catch the last 15 minutes. The theatre, a school auditorium, is tiny and everyone heard the fucking door open as I tip-toed my way to a backseat.)

As you can probably imagine, I was annoyed, tired and mostly annoyed as I tried to find my way back to the nearest subway station. I hopped on a streetcar and read a book I had brought along and next thing I know this announcement comes on:

PLEASE EXIT THE STREETCAR AT THE NEXT STOP.

THIS STREETCAR WILL BE SHORT TURNING SOON.

And in my mind, I've murdered the driver a few times. Why couldn't he just finish the job and GET ME TO THE STATION?!!? So, I'm left stranded on a street corner, in cold weather a Saturday night with the only other passenger left. So I did, what people normally do in such situations. I started talking to the guy.

Turns out he had just dropped off his Girlfriend at home (awwwww --- tooo bad -___- ) and was on his way home too. Then I learned he was a fouth year student, majoring in Biochemistry and Neurosciences at the University of Toronto. WHAT?!?!

So we had a nice conversation about math, and physics, and how you need to persevere if you want to make it. Also, not to feel bad if you decide this load of math, physics, chemistry and other unpleasant scientific studies just isn't for you. 

Finally, he warned me against the thing that hurts the most during your first year in post-secondary education: if you thought you were smart before, get ready to have your ass served to you on a silver platter by an Asian that can do EVERYTHING better than you.

Great, just great... hahah

P.S. : Though I am portraying a stereotype, I would like to remind you that it is a positive one. Being smart is a good thing. Now, read that again, and try to convince yourself there is such a thing as a "positive stereotype". That's a dangerous way of thinking. That's like saying "positive racism" or "positive rape" (==> Mitt Romney, anyone?) 

The Fifth Member

While helping my Mom with her homework (I know, that sounds weird, right? My English is better than hers -- but you didn't hear it from me :P) I rediscovered an old favorite band, composed of 3 kids who don't even average 20 years in age.

They mostly spread the word of their music through their Facebook page, or word to mouth. Word to ear? Never mind.

Anyhow, it's been a while since I listened, and now I've realized they have new songs and I'm OVER THE MOOON!! Of course Britain does it better than everyone else... I mean, they're probably younger than Justin Bieber, but their sound is ten times older and better developed. As a young adult very much interested in the Arst, especially music, it warms my heart to see youngsters play and not go for the Teletubbies look.

Enjoy!

Here's their myspace: http://www.myspace.com/fifthmembermusic

Their second EP coming out soon!!

The Bus Chronicles: Wise Photographer

He sits in the corner
Closest to the opening
Towards the stars

It's cold: his layers prove it
Jean dress shirt, plaid sweater, tweed jacket

What a hipster
This wise photographer

Red colored pants
Nice blue shoes
Personality of many hues

A camera around his neck
A Dollarama bag filled with wires
That interwove with his deeper desires
Of future glory
And wise story

On a downtown bus
On a cold Sunday night

Art

No, I'm not going to do a dissertation on art. I'm going to see the Yasmina Reza play called "Art".

Last scheduled presentation tonight at Gabrielle Roy.

It's in French with English subtitles and the director is a good friend.

Hopefully I'm there on time!!

http://www.torontoartsonline.org/Events/Theatre/2012/ART-by-Yasmina-Reza-directed-by-Jean-Nicolas-Masson

Diamonds

I thought I had it all.

That I had found what I was looking for.

I guess I was wrong.

Your piercing diamonds I want no more.

Tears of a clown

Tears running down his powdered cheek

A wet trail on his snowy face

But it dont matter hes a freak

This is no time for this or place

But hey nobody cares, laughing

At his desperate  not funny jokes

He just wants that smoke to puff on

Hands shaking tongue dry , but hes broke

Cant pay for malboro no more

Life beat him down and made him quit

And he gives in, falls on the floor

They think its yet another trick

The tears of a clown are worthless

Unnoticed, they are stepped on, crushed. 

Read this book lately.

Highly recommend it.

If you're not in a "I feel like being serious today" mood, 

you never saw this post.

Nail Polish

Back in June I babysat these two kids for a friend of mine who was going on a trip (Milan? Chicago? Can't remember) and needed a replacement. I had nothing else to do with my free time and needed the extra money.

Turns out my experience and knowledge of kids aged 7 to 11 wasn't actually needed because the family had invited this other family who were on some mini world tour or something.

Anyhow, what really got to me was that, the father of that family (let's call him Mark for the purpose of this post) was so cool. I mean, I've met cool dads before and they always jump out at me, seem out of the ordinary because let's say that my experience with fatherly figures hasn't been the prettiest.

Anyhow, at some point before lunch, Mark pulls out this child-sized professional looking nail polish kit, calls his daughter and in no time has a nail polish studio up and running in the kitchen. My mind does a 180 and I'm like...wait WHAT?!?!?!

And the guy wasn't even butchering his daughters hands. Mark made some awesome designs including flags (France, USA, Canada, Argentina, Brasil, Germany...--- one on each finger!!) and stripes and polka-dots and yeah...

I was seated there, dumbfounded at the idea that a father could have a super relationship with his three young daughters to the point he's pulling all the stops by doing their nails.

And it really got me thinking...

Maybe if my dad had been that cool, we'd still be talking.

Ashraff

Yesterday, on my never ending quest to knowing what I want to do with my future, I met a nice middle-aged  man from Bangladesh named Arshraff. (And I'm so sooo sorry if I get the name wrong --which I  most likely WILL get wrong).

He is a very nice street vendor in the Toronto area.

He seems really interested by the fact that most people in Canada, seeing it's a country of immigration, speak two or more languages.

I even received a nice history lesson about how Pakistan was separated from India by the British, and then Pakistan and Bangladesh split too.

And most of all, he has a sense of humor. A street vendor sense of humor, that is. Here's an excerpt of a conversation he had with my friend S.

Hello Sir.

Hi there.

Could I get a water bottle?  

Sure.

How much is it?

How much do you want it to be?

(After a few seconds to ponder the issue)

Can I get it for free?

No.

I don't know why I wrote this. I just really thought Ashraff was cool. Oh, AND he said I was pretty :) (In a non creepy way though).

Consolation

Stolen kisses in public washrooms
And wandering hands

You always come a day too soon

Before I can breathe 

And hold on tight

To sanity

You are my consolation prize
Though you were never mine

Looks, awkward silences
Winter glow and summer dances
You're always in a hurry
To a place where I am not welcomed
And so I wander
To the pace of the streetlights
Flashing on my face

While I'm on the train
Head glued to the frosted window
Thinking, reliving, and remembering

That I was only your consolation prize
And that you were never mine.

Argument

Big tears are running down your cheeks

Your voice is rising to a screech

You say it’s your entire fault

You’re hurt like wounds bathing in salt

You must have done everything wrong

You weren’t smart enough or strong

You should have argued more with me

You let me run happy and free

You should have taken a firm stand

But when will you just understand

That this is about me, not you. 

Electric Lady

Electric Lady by redqueen featuring a black studded dress

Black studded dress
celebboutique.com

Aurélie Bidermann 18k jewelry
net-a-porter.com

Sergio Rufo Audrey
inprnt.com

The Bus Chronicles: Little Princess

You meet the most interesting people in public transportation... You'd be surprised the stuff that I come up with when I'm sleep deprived and I have nothing better to do but spy on the poor soul that just want to get to their destination...

I saw the cutest little princess on the bus today

A little sleeping beauty in her own right

Her skin was sandy beige, her hair mighty red

A little pink to brighten her eyes,

A bouquet of white roses as headband

Flashing fuchsia on her tiny nails

Little Pocahontas loafers with beaded eagles

that soar as high as her bubble gum dreams

A chunky ring, maybe the legacy of some forever lost dynasty

She slept so peacefully when she made her escape

Would that be a tear I see, my fair little lady?

Or just the broken remains of wonder faraway?

She walked away 

She swayed away

She left and I had to remember 

That the cold breeze of October

Is maybe what lead me to believe

A young woman, a stranger

Could be a little fairy princess

Or a baby sleeping beauty

   

Rainbow Veins

I have rainbow veins

they bleed purple blood

and make my face blue

when I sing a sad song.

they turn me dusty grey

when my loves die away

they make me evil black

when my heart starts to crack

they become bright silver

in a moonlit summer sky

they become lime green 

when I finish to tie my tie

I smile sweet yellow

under a June fall of snow

I cry orange rainbows

when the bridge to reality

gives way to the flood of sorrows

that swim and stir up 

my colorful blood

in my rainbow veins

http://phitus.deviantart.com/art/rainbow-blood-49979788

Patrick Watson

I have a new obsession and it's Patrick Watson. Like my Italian teacher, I have a soft spot for pretty, airy and sometimes experimental music. During one of our musical conversation, two names came up: Andrew Bird and Patrick Watson. The former, I haven't really done my homework on...but the latter, I really didn't have too. Lighthouse got my 120% approval from day one. Oh, how I am giddy in presence of good Canadian music :) Enjoy!