Burgers & Tunes

Burgers & Tunes

All of it. Ills and evils. A street brawl workday. An aching lower back. A thousand tiny worries. Alleviated by the significant victory of arriving home safely, changing into casual clothes, powering on the stereo, and firing up the grill. No kettle tonight. Instead, a reward for the senses. An old-fashioned glass with perfectly formed ice, one and a half ounces of Tanqueray gin, two ounces of club soda, and a grapefruit wedge – like a good friend throwing their arm around my shoulder. A delight! I wish that friend had been here, lounging on a patio chair, helping connect the dots of the day.

In my newly minted ‘Adam Baldwin Cross Country Chin Up’ tee, I initiated the ritual. Carefully slipped the midnight shine of a vinyl record from its arty sheath, placed lovingly on the turntable, and let the needle descend. The perfect crackle. And then, music. Side one of Tragically Hip’s ‘Fully Completely’. With the soundtrack set, the grill set it to a desired heat, I moved to the kitchen.

From the icebox, I accumulated all the ingredients required for the perfect burger and a fresh corn salad with scallions and basil to have alongside. When ‘Courage (For Hugh MacLennan)’ faded into ‘Looking for A Place to Happen’ I was ready to make the main course. In a shallow bowl I carefully broke up the ground beef and minimal fill with my hands, careful not to overmix. I formed a generous patty, ¾ inch thick, made a sizeable depression in the middle with my thumb, seasoned with salt and pepper and moseyed to the barbeque. I dispensed colorful banter with neighbors nearby while I brushed my burger with oil and waited for the first side to turn golden brown and slightly charred. My Dad always told me, “Never press your patties when it’s grilling unless you want a bland burger. Pressing takes all of the fat and flavor out of the meat.”  I am now forever a frequent flipper instead. Gord sang me out of ‘At the Hundredth Meridian’ and into ‘Pigeon Camera’ when I popped inside to select the cheese. It is always a toss up between swiss, old cheddar, or Havarti. I opted for old cheddar in honour of my friend who I was deeply missing.  I even made their not-so-secret sauce to garnish – mayo, ketchup, relish and paprika all mixed in a small bowl to rest. My friend would have been pleased to see that added touch. And I made it solely because I knew it would make them happy. And, I like when my friends are happy. I like the things that connect us and keep us close.

After frequents flips of the sizzling chuck, I top with cheese and duck back inside to swap out the music. Side one of Tragically Hip for side two of Matt Mays’ ‘Twice Upon a Hell of a Time’ – unplugged, always my preferred dining vibe. When I arrived back to the barbeque, a tender, juicy, and flavorful burger awaited me. I brought it inside, nestled the cheesy patty in a warm brioche bun, brushed with my bud’s special sauce, and topped with smoky bacon, a beefy tomato slice and crisp lettuce. A side of the corn salad, a gin refill and all was right with the world. I sat to eat with a calm in my heart. Burgers and tunes, even alone, and especially after a long week, is where its at.

***

I made a comment on a bud’s Facebook post about his making burgers. He’s a mega music friend. To his post, I simply replied, “Burgers and tunes!”  He replied, “Sounds like a short story title.” I took it to heart and used it as a lazy Sunday writing exercise. It’s likely a bit of a bore but it felt good to use the creative side of my brain to churn out a little piece. Just to move my fingers. Some details fact, some details fiction. As with anything, yeah?

Happy Sunday!

In propinquity,

Nic

Two Poets

Two Poets

two poets rave

in downtown Halifax

his stride matchers her pace

both knocked by hurly-burly

poems

with all their words missing

our eyes

monitor their molten movements

how he lures verses out from under

                her lovely dress

how she forgets how to swim to him

& the explosion

of stars in each willowy hand

they are all we refuse to ignore

                unrestrained inheritance

two poets rant

in a dingy basement bar

still downtown Halifax

                in their limited light

opening sentences taste the same

as the shiny elastic prayers hidden

in the luxury of our worry

he is an action not taken

& she a simple twist of fate

                perfect bodies

                purple hearts

                parallel pains

two poets

                who unbutton the night

leave everything bare

skip town before dawn

                & we all take the blame

for everything they left behind

**

Vacation has been nice. A good break from the 9 to 5. I intended to devour books, write my face off, and do a ton of creative stuff: if daydreaming counts … I did spend a good chunk of time on my own, breathing and thinking, musing and scheming but I failed to follow through on the ‘plan’ and instead went with the flow. Isn’t that more of what a vacation should be? I do regret not taking more time to write though. I have to get my head back in the game but until this week is over I won’t shove myself too hard for it.

Today’s pecking was fun. I set up a ‘best of’ Matt Mays playlist (to get my soul prepared for my Hubbards get away next weekend), poured myself a ice cold cider purchased from a road trip I took on Thursday with my best bud, and just dug in.  I mentioned twice today how I hadn’t written enough on vacation to two different people so it was time.

Drinks and laughs tonight with friends and then my last day of vacation tomorrow before returning to the work desk but burning through the days so my weekend in Hubbards with friends comes quickly.

Happy Saturday!

In propinquity,

Nic

All We Had

All We Had

in my own private maelstrom

I allow time to diminish me

& lessen the joy of all we had

you were so desolate after dark

grandstanding in the loneliness

of my long walks away from you

no apology was kindly offered

for your ill-starred behaviours

these transactions of hypocrisy

left you indifferent to desires

nothing need be imposed

                nothing was all we had

**

It's true, winter has defeated all of us here on the east coast of Canada. Sure, we expect cold, snowy winters but this past month with a string of nor'easter and flash freeze combos, we resemble the North Pole. Our last storm brought 60+ cms of snow and now we're all a coast full of hunchbacks slowly disappearing behind growing snowbanks. Ironic that the first day of Spring is tomorrow and we're buried in so much snow there will still be piles of it in July. The kicker is there is another system brewing that will introduce itself on Saturday either in the way of 15 more cms of snow or a whack of rain. Either way we are screwed.

So, I wrote a poem. Something cropped up and out came these words. After a peaceful coffee date with one of my loves, I sat down and banged this out. I had fun writing it because I didn't really think too hard, I didn't fret over the lines, I just wrote. Opened up, plugged my headphones in, listened to a cover of Neil Young's 'Sample And Hold' Matt Mays recorded on repeat (I am currently obsessed with this song) and I wrote something. 

Woot!

Tomorrow is Friday. I feel like this week has lasted a month but I welcome the weekend to rest a little. There's a bottle of wine chilling for me and my playlist will be waiting for me when I get home. Could get romantic.

In propinquity,

Nic

Stars Bloom At Scalloped Edges

Stars Bloom At Scalloped Edges

happiness is this, I think

to celebrate a relentless desire

for something that cannot exist

terminal romance summons you upward

just where stars bloom at scalloped edges

of un-borrowed books and minced words

a moment of hesitation is returned affection

and the sharp subject of improvised melodramas  

expressions so quizzical admirers are acquired for

an accommodating view of glittering shambles

easily navigated by naïve hearts of willing praise

happiness is this, I think

to commemorate a constant yearning

for something that is explicitly impossible

contingent on fiction tinging phosphorous truth

among embedded pleasures at scalloped edges

conspiratorial language detonates the soft stars

artless mythology tangles the far side of fading light

but at my firm demand I confess with my reluctant pen

I shudder in the darkness where I hear a name repeated

truth surges until I am an endangered volume of poetry

and it is revealed happiness is nothing that I expected

**

I wanted to work in one last post before we ring in a new year.  Wow, 2013 has flown by like a dream and I have a lot to be grateful for.  I accomplished a great deal of writing this year and am excited for the new stories and poems that will materialize in the coming months.  I saw a lot of great shows this year, live theatre, concerts and attended excellent literary events that propelled me to continue to do the work I am passionate about and that is writing.  Anything else, as I have always said, just pays the bills.

I am certain that 2014 will have its share of challenges and obstacles but I look forward to pursing them, in my 40^th year on this planet, with courage, strength, wisdom and experience. 

Despite a crippling cold that plagued me Boxing Day through this past weekend (the dry cough still persists) I am set to celebrate a new year dawning with champagne, fancy clothes, my good friends and one last Matt Mays show at the Casino.  I intend to do all of this with optimism and with faith in what will fill the days, weeks and months ahead.  No resolutions, just the continued practice of being good, kind, generous, creative and thankful for my blessings.

A very happy new year to you and yours. 

In propinquity,

Nic

Surf Sing Change

Brian Byrne, Sam Roberts, Matt Mays & Shaun Majumder
at Lawrencetown Beach as tweeted by Sonic Records

I attended an event last night, Surf Sing Change, at the Rebecca Cohn that may very well have been my favorite show of 2013.  It was a benefit put together by Byrne and his wife Tara, their OCD Collective in support of Nova Scotia Autism.  It was a two part event, during the day a surf camp was held at Lawrencetown Beach for autistic children and their families followed by a benefit concert in the evening featuring Brian Byrne, Sam Roberts, Matt Mays, the lovely Kim Harris and Shaun Majumder hosting.  They changed the format from having each artist take the stage solo to a songwriter's circle of sorts where they all sat together on stage taking turns singing down the line.  It created an intimate setting and grand all at once.  To be in a room full of fellow music lovers and supporters of a great cause with that calibre of talent playing together was a marvel.  So wonderful, for those not in attendance, you missed something really amazing.

Shaun Majumder is a funny funny man.  He came out first and engaged the crowd with a gut busting monologue taking warm jabs at Newfoundland(ers), Americans, our finance minster among other hilarities.  He was a fun-loving host who kept the pace of the evening light and on track.  But in truth, there may have been more talking, joking and widespread laughter than there were songs.  Nobody minded except maybe for a humble Sam Roberts who was on the receiving end of Shaun's comedy.  The stories shared, jokes told and songs sung were absolute perfection.

My motivation to go to this thing at all was to see Sam Roberts.  I have sadly missed every show he has played in Halifax and I LOVE Sam Roberts.  And, given the additional line-up, I didn't want to miss it because I knew it was going to be something special.  He played 'Hard Road' first which pleased me and on his second time around he pulled out 'Uprising Down Under' which just so happens to be my all-time Sam Roberts song.  I felt my whole body fill with goosebumps.  It was an incredible moment for me, someone who loves the song so much, to be present while Sam and Matt played it together.  It was absolutely stunning.  It was also accompanied by great stories and anecdotes about the two of them being in Australia while Sam was working on Chemical City and Matt was on a surf trip, coming together and talking shop.  There were so many moments like that for all of the artists throughout the night because they are all friends and have all played together in the past.  Songwriter's circles are profound experiences for music lovers.  It gives you such intimate insight into the songs that shape you.  It's really beautiful, it deepens the admiration and the respect you feel for the artists and strengthens the love of the music in a unique fashion.

Matt delivered 'Indio' which was supple and soulful acoustically compared to the guns blazing version I heard at his Shore Club show just the other week.  It's a treat to watch someone who rocks his guts out perched on a stool with an acoustic guitar sharing a side of himself and his songs you wouldn't see otherwise.  Matt is a humble, charming individual with a tender heart and humorous side that could easily rival Shaun.  It's nice to get a glimpse into his humanness and just listen quietly.  The setting was also fortunate because he shared a new song with the crowd.  He set it up by saying that some of his close buds hated it and broke into it.  Gorgeous song.  Just gorgeous.  After he finished and the applause quieted, I roared laughing because Brian Byrne piped up and said, "Your friends are idiots!  You need a new set of friends."  I look forward to him recording it, hopefully for a new record.  He ended his songs with 'City of Lakes' deemed from a story told as 'Land o' Lakes'.  Jokes flew, people.  They flew.  It's hard not to be proud of our hometown boy, he makes home sound beautiful.  Truly.

Brian Byrne was just incredible.  He brings a lot of heart to the table, a mountain of passion, a wealth of wisdom and stories, and his songs are wonderful.  I don't know all of the songs he sung but he did an awe-inspiring version of U2's 'All I Want Is You' (my favorite U2 song to be true) that morphed into 'Ruby Tuesday' and a touch of 'Sympathy For The Devil'.  His voice is raw and effecting, he wears his humble heart on his sleeve and was so appreciative of the artists coming on board, donating their time to something that for he and his wife was a mere idea that had transformed into the presentation we were privy to.  There was a lot of love in the room and it was largely in part to his belief and dedication to the cause.  He ended his songs with one called 'Beautiful You' that I came home and downloaded from iTunes because I loved it.  It will be in heavy rotation for some time come, I can assure you.

Kim Harris was a delightful addition to the cast of artists.  I talked to her later at The Carleton and told her that whenever she does a local show of her own we wanted to come.  I discovered that she did a few shows at HUFF and was bummed I missed them.  She has a gorgeous voice and her songs are stunning.  She sang a song she wrote about losing her mother and dedicated to a young woman she met back stage who just lost hers and that loss was being used negatively against her in a social setting.  For all of those reasons combined and having the guys and the audience participate to sing the roof off the Cohn with the end bit was emotional.  I predict great things for the lone female presence on the bill.  Kind-hearted and talented.  Remember her name, Kim Harris.  You will love her.

The evening was deemed ‘an open window to a kitchen party that you’ll never be invited to’.  Brutally accurate.  We were afforded to a rare glimpse into the inner circle of artists who are friends, have been friends and have illustrious histories combined and great sometimes hilarious stories to tell and harmless dirt to dish on each other.  It was magnificent.  Truly the place to be last night.  I was mesmerized from the atmosphere, moved by the music and ached from laughing.  I hope they do it again next year.

Afterward, I finally took in a Carletones show.  I hadn’t had the chance to see them with Adam Baldwin at the helm.  So glad I did and I look forward future shows.  That guy deserves fame all on his own.  He’s righteous. 

And with that, I’m off.  Sunday calls.

In propinquity,

Nic

Take It On Faith

I decided after a glorious weekend away to give myself the week off from writing.  I started the prompts and then swiftly abandoned them in exchange for down time in Hubbards.  I did intend to write my last prompt on Saturday but I just didn’t get around to it.  I was too busy enjoying this:

My friends and I had a stunning weekend.  We had a scrumptious lobster dinner at the Shore Club, lounged at our Inn on the patio with a breath-taking view of Hubbards Cove drinking wine, laughing, talking and marveled at sun set.  Before long it was time to hike around the corner, back to the Shore Club and cue up for the Matt Mays show.  I have had the good fortune of seeing him play several times but this particular show was, by far, the most outstanding, the most fun.  I attribute it mostly my companions and to the venue because I always have fun there, it’s impossible not to.  The show itself was a hell-on-wheels rock ‘n’ roll show’.  Young River warmed up the stage and got the crowd primed and are quite good all on their own.  As soon as they were finished we took a few large steps and ended up right in the front for Matt Mays.  While it is true that I the next morning my ears were still ringing from being so close to the front monitors, I was ridiculously stuffed up dangerously close to black lung from the smoke machine but my heart was happy.  There is something heartening about Matt’s music, something that sounds like … well … home.  It feels like home to me and offers the sense that I am right where I belong.  Plus, you can belt the tunes out good and loud in a live setting, even if the long skinny fringes of the singer’s swanky black jacket are poking out your eyes and he’s standing on your purse as he sings into the crowd on the mere edge of the gear box the monitors were resting on.  Needless to say, we left the venue happy and sweaty and elated.  Arriving back to work Monday morning was a slap in the face because I was still slightly jubilant from the weekend away.  It was hard to re-adjust to reality after the overwhelming sense of peacefulness I felt in Hubbards, because I was with warm-hearted humans, because I was breathing easy, because I was in a drama-free zone and I was content.  Best weekend getaway in recent memory.  It was much needed and deeply appreciated by all involved.

On Thursday night is also worth mentioning a small delight.  I was sitting at The Carleton having a drink with my friend Heather.  I was seated at the end of the bar by the entrance and a group of people caught my attention when they entered.  I after doing what I’m sure was a tripe take, he shot me a smile.  I looked at Heather and said, “Is that Charlie Sexton!?”  She shrugged at me and sipped her beer but I was determined to find out.  It turns out it was.  I flexed up my the gonads to cart myself over and say hello.  The singer of 80’s hits like ‘Beats So Lonely’ and ‘Impressed’ towered over me, still sporting those perfect cheekbones, he was quite delighted I knew who he was.   I stood and conversed with him for a few minutes, why he was in Halifax, what he’s been up to and a little about the Arc Angels project he did that I love, he has warm hands and a kind disposition.  What a neat thing to have happened.  Completely random and quite cool. 

So this self-imposed writing hiatus is a little bit painful but my days are long this week and by the time I get home my brain is mush and I don’t really have a spare minute to create anything.  I do scribble, words, thoughts, ideas, and names but it isn’t the same.  I look forward to Friday being over and having five whole days off to relax and open my mind back up to all things creative.  I’m itching to finish ‘Large-Hearted’, so that’s a goal.  Fingers crossed.

I’ll take it on faith.

In propinquity,

Nic

Late To The Party

Today’s prompt (which took me more like 20-25 minutes to write instead of 10 because I was writing as I worked) is to write a scene using an unreliable narrator and give her a cat.

This is what came:

Late To The Party

I promised I would go but I lied.  Well, I didn’t lie per se, I did plan to go but when the time came to embark on the journey to the undesired destination, I flaked. The best decision was to stay home in my sweats, listen to music and scroll through hundreds of delicious recipes on Pinterest that I want to try but will never make.  As you can clearly see, I am quick to make promises I can’t keep.  I admit, I have no follow through. 

I was supposed to be there by 7:30pm.  It is now 8:23pm.  My phone is set on vibrate and is lighting up like a Christmas tree;  texts, voicemails, Facebook messages, tweets, all boasting the same query, “Where ARE you!?”  I delete each notification as I skim without really reading.  Then voice mail. 

Margaret was first, “Nellie Briggs!  How dare you desert your …”

Delete.

Then there was Carol, “I keep telling myself that you’re probably just running late.  Having a wardrobe malfunction or are stuck in traffic.   You better …”

Delete.

And Janine spat out a sour tone, “I can’t believe you aren’t here.  How selfish …”

Delete.

And of course Dawn, my best friend in the whole entire world, “Congratulations Nell, you win.  Never will I ever do a single thing for you again, ever!  You exhaust me and I’m really disappointed this time more than all the other times that you promised you’d show and up and didn’t.  You are a terrible friend, Nellie.  Oh, happy birthday.  The party I threw for you was lovely.”

Replay message.

Delete.

Dawn.  We have been through every major life event together, college, botched life plans, illness, silliness, sadness, celebration, bad boyfriends, bad hair and broken hearts.  Her cat is the almost twin sister to my Marbles, a lazy blue eye-d Ragdoll kitty with a silky color-point coat.  Even she is looking at me with disappointment. 

If these people were my friends they would accept me for who I am.  They should know I have loner tendencies and that I prefer solitude to crowded places and that I like to observe instead of being the center of attention.  I am not adventurous or spontaneous, I work my guts out all day and I just like to relax and take it easy.  How is that wrong?!  I know I can be insensitive to the hardships and demands of others but I live my life for me and do what I want and if I don’t want to do something that’s my choice and no one else’s so they can suck lemons.  Plus, how many other people accept a Facebook invite and say they are going to some stupid Scentsy party or a baby shower and don’t actually go?  Millions.  I’m not the only flake.

Yeah, saying that out-loud does make me sound like an asshole, doesn’t it?

Oh well.  C’est la vie. 

**

TGIF!  I just made plans with my friend Colleen tonight and am contemplating a family gathering tomorrow that is a road trip away.  Feeling a little blue, left over from yesterday and I'm really behind in my sleep but I'm happy the weekend is upon us and next week is a four day week for me leading up to my overnight away in Hubbard to see Matt Mays with friends.  Mmm lobster dinnnner.

I wish you peaceful easy feelings and lots of laughs with those you love.

In propinquity,

Nic

Lonesome Thinking

Lonesome Thinking

I like to eat late

ponder sympathetic stories

and contemplate furtive plans

to prevent catastrophes

my driving thoughts

weighted down by passengers

those rare and remarkable

torn by loyalty and ambition

and then

the ever-present conundrum

to condemn or defend

I like to drink early

deliberate forfeited deceits

and envision surreptitious tactics

for averting calamities

and I might

heave a sigh

allusive but never aloof

I like to forecast

the slow and elegant rise

of exposed situations belonging

to the pained and fraudulent

quixotic philosophies

idealistic rehearsals

I am lonesome when I think

I am silent when I speak

I like to be right but offer nothing

**

I learned a few interesting literary morsels today.  It was reported that Jane Austen will soon appear on the £10 note in the UK.  How frackin’ cool is that?!  I’m almost inclined to ask a UK friend to send me one, with proper compensation of course, just to have one.  I think it’s a marvelous idea.  Cha-ching!

I also discovered that Margaret Atwood has completed a libretto for operatic production that chronicles the tragic life of legendary Canadian poet and actor, Pauline Johnson.  This is super exciting because I know very little about her so I’m compelled to learn more in light of this outstanding news.  I doubt I’ll be in attendance for any of the performances but anything is possible.  Seeing a live opera is on my bucket list.

I confess I didn’t do anything in the way of editing ‘Large-Hearted’.  I was going to last night but I watched a disturbing documentary instead, about a home invasion/murder in Cheshire, Connecticut.  I kept trying to turn it off because it was turning my stomach but I endured the full scope of the story to its end.  It was a complicated tale that involved the death penalty and I’m not even sure I fully believe the details of the crime.  I also don’t think the small town police force did everything they could to save the mother and two daughters who were killed.  My heart ached for them and I truly hope they have found peace.  Egads.  I normally don’t watch that sort of thing but I was too tired to change the channel and got sucked in.  It’s scary, the evil that lurks in this world, it also serves as a stark reminder to seek out the goodness life offers.  Bad things happen to good people and you wish to God you could understand why.  Appreciating life is the only source of survival.  And love.

Yay for Fridays!  I discovered I have a beer in my fridge this morning.  So, tonight, I’m going to go home, change into my comfy clothes, fire up my ‘Large-Hearted’ playlist and start working.  Weather permitting; I am going to take in the Halifax Pride parade tomorrow.  It’s the happiest and most colorful parade I’ve ever seen and rivals every other one we have in this city.  I hope the sun shines so everyone can get out and celebrate.  After the parade, I figure I’ll sit with my pages and keep working.  Eavesdrop a little, people watch and think.  An artist date is necessary.  I look forward to it.

Coming up:  next weekend will mark the 118^th birthday of Halifax/Dartmouth.  In celebration, I’ll be taking in Joel Plaskett’s show on the Dartmouth waterfront avec fireworks.  At least, that’s the plan so far.  And as always, weather permitting.  And THEN, the countdown will be ON for Matt Mays in Hubbards at the Shore Club.  Righteous!  I look so forward to that night away from the city.

Have a great weekend, lovely humans.  Practice random acts of kindness and be good to yourself.

In propinquity,

Nic

Write The Light

I am working slowly on my current story.  Little by little.  I wrote a poem yesterday but it isn’t ready for public consumption, not sure I even like it enough to share it.  How does that happen?!  I think it was one of those rare moments where I tried forcing myself to sound inspired and I simply wasn’t.  I was frustrated, wavering between the right and left brain (as Ruthie often talks about) and I have been so rooted in my not so creative rut that forcing it wasn’t making any magic happen.  The silver lining is that I still put pen to paper and wrote something.  No one said you’d always get a masterpiece.  I know, speaking for myself, it takes more than one clear shot to achieve the desired end result.

In addition to the pages of notes I have and the almost 2000 word count on ‘Large-Hearted’ I have also been thinking about it around the clock despite the fact I’ve not made clear progress.  It’s playing like a movie in my head and the narrator seems to really like me, she’s always chattering but she talks faster than I can jot it down.  My hope is to spend some quality time with her over the weekend and see what happens.  There’s simply no excuse to not be writing since I have a computer in my writing room again.  I am thinking I’ll venture out into the world with her though.  Go eat some lunch, drink coffee and eavesdrop on the masses.  Some of my past dialogue/song lyrics/poetry comes from things I’ve heard people say. 

Work has been steady but I did manage to have a bit of fun last weekend despite the long stretch of rain that we’ve been having.  I went to see Matt Mays, it ended up being indoors at the Cunard Center (not really my favorite venue to see a show)  but was still full throttle.  The Red Bull Tour bus is a cool concept.  They basically took a transit bus and converted it into a fully functioning sound stage that has been touring across Canada, hitting the hometowns of the acts slated to play.  For us, they brought it to Halifax for Matt Mays.  He shared the groovy stage with Young River and The Meds and as usual Matt Mays and Co. pulverized their audience with pure rock ‘n’ roll intensity and irreverent emotion.  It is still heartbreakingly apparent they are still mourning the loss of Jay Smith but they leave you with the sense that the power and belief in what they do for a living and their collective hope keep them afloat, further proving music’s powerful ability to heal.  I wonder how long it will be before he can make it through ‘Chase The Light’ without crying.  I wonder how long it will be before I can listen to ‘Chase The Light’ without choking up.  I have a feeling it won’t be anytime soon.  Their sing-a-long for ‘On The Hood’ (one of my favorite singintothehairbrush songs) was so much fun and required skilled audience participation.  Another highlight for me was them pulling out ‘Terminal Romance’.  So so good.  I’ll be seeing Matt Mays again in August at the Shore Club with friends.  I’m pumped for that.  One of my favorite East Coast bands playing in one of my favorite East Coast locations in Hubbards with my best friend and other amazing humans.  It’ll be a time and it’s also something to look forward to.  But, before that, I’ve got Matt Epp’s CD release to look forward to.  He’s bringing his band and an opening act called French Press to The Carleton on June 23^rd.  If you aren’t familiar with him, you should check him out.  Counting sleeps now!

Matt Mays, Red Bull Tour Bus 2013

For now, I’m just happy it’s Friday and when I go home tonight I know I don’t have to wake up to an alarm and with any luck, it’ll be sunny.  Oh, I also have a new kitty.  I call her Lola.  It’ll take some getting used to, to have another furry creature underfoot.  Sookie has been gone for so many years now I’ve forgotten how altogether delightful a pet is and how pesky they can be.  Getting to know her habits and personality will be fun but my sneezing and the fur-balls, not so much; having said that the good far out-weigh the bad so even though she technically isn’t mine, I’ll care for her like she is.

Come ON end of day!  Spend your weekend with people you love doing things that make you happy.

In propinquity,

Nic

10 Steps To Becoming A Better Writer

Aside from Chuck Palahniuk’s excellent writing advice he dispensed to me in a handwritten letter: ‘Never be afraid to look like an asshole,’ the best advice to follow is to write.  The following rules apply, it states you must do your work, you must apply yourself and if you do, whether you want to or not or feel you have nothing to say, every word counts.  Every. Single. One.

If you ever question yourself (or others about yourself) whether or not you are a writer or an artist, you most likely are.  Steven Pressfield, in his amazing book The War of Art says this:  The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident.  The real ones are scared to death.  (Btw, I mention this book as suggested reading for ALL creatives.  It’s an important book and when in doubt or creative crisis should be referred to.)

After I finished my last short story, I was nervous.  I’ve been so overwhelmed with ideas and thoughts and characters and stories that they were coming faster than I could get them down on paper.  I am certain, in the flurry to record everything; I missed a few bits and pieces.  Nevertheless, I have been truly enjoying the process and the influx of fiction invading my noodle and taking up all of my time.  It’s certainly better than wasting precious time on things that dull or spirit and with people who try and break it.  This writing adventure has centered me and caused me to re-evaluate a few things and to take better notice of what matters.  For me, it’s staying true to myself and listening actively and intently to the songs of others.  And by others, I mean my friends, friends like Joseph Whistle, little Charlie Roop, Mr. Wincey, Harriet Weeks and Augustus Cade.  I write for them.  And for me.  But, the key is to write.  There were days I wrote one sentence, one paragraph, one word.  Eventually, I amassed a whole story.

Just write.  What’s in you.  Every day.  One word at a time.

I can’t wait to see where ‘Large-Hearted’ takes me. 

And the weekend is once again upon us.  Once I make it through this day, I plan to get caught up on sleep from the mind-numbing insomnia I suffered for days on end.  Some of which could be blamed on marathoning ‘Game of Thrones’ to catch up to the devastating ‘Red Wedding’ episode everyone was freaking out about.  As discussed with others already, the cutting off of Jamie’s hand and the bear scene were just as disturbing to me.  The wedding, while I knew would be brutal still left me speechless, more-so he killing of Robb Stark’s pregnant wife.  I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to un-see that; that more than anything else terrified me.  I also started reading The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, a heavy ambitious book that has so far been good.  I’m not very far into it but I can tell it’s going to be profound.  For something uplifting, I have a Matt Mays show tomorrow evening that is now going indoors because of Storm Andrea Whatshername.  It’ll be my first show at the Cunard Center believe it or not but I just look forward to having my ears filled with the sounds of a White Falcon and a kick drum in my chest.  Some people do yoga …

Happy Friday, amigos!

In propinquity,

Nic

Stay Rudimentary

Stay Rudimentary

it is absolute truth

my pause is permanent

by my own choosing

I create superfluously

my tiny indolent poems

defy the fictitious ideal

that stringent commands

must always be adhered to

my divergent impure art

always void of rigid edifice

no hendecasyllables

no quantitative meter

no iambic pentameter

all experimental theatre

all art exhibits tentative

all lectures inarticulate

my engaged credence is

to contrast the full latitude

of stiff rules against instinct

by my own selection

I create disproportionately

to expectations

no shrewdness

no discernments

all temperament

all rebelliousness

no rules

stay rudimentary, kids

**

Greetings from the great Canadian North East!  And it’s raining.  It’s been raining for days and will continue to rain for days.  What is this, England!?  As you can probably tell, I’m none too thrilled with this spring weather.  It was cold enough yesterday for the heat to cut, who has time for that!?  Perhaps I’m just grumpy cat and ranty in part from the weather and equal parts PMS and real life, you know, the usual.  Of course the grass needs the rain but I am in desperate need of a sunny day, both literally and metaphorically.  At least I’ve been writing when time allows.

So yeah, ‘Hardscrabble’ is my current writing venture.  The story of a woman scorned with a colorful vocabulary and a fair bit to say.  That’s all I’ve learned so far.  I’m still listening and getting to know her.  She tends to reveal herself little spurts at a time, either while I’m trying to sleep or too busy at work to give her my undivided attention.  I think she understands though, she’s a writer too and she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere and for that I’m grateful.  The process is a total departure from ‘Mute’ where I built the story out of order.  This is more free-flowing and nonsensical which makes sense given her life experiences.  I look forward to see where she’ll take me.  And you.

Simply put, this current poem is an ode to writing sans rules.  You know me, rebel rebel.  Enough said.

While I’m grateful to have had a long weekend last weekend this short work week seems to be inching by at a very slow painful pace.  Not that I want to wish the time away but I so enjoyed not having to wake up to an alarm for three glorious days that I can’t wait to do it again on Saturday morning.  Saturday will be a good day/night.  Dear friends of mine got engaged a little while back and Saturday is their engagement party which means a nip of something alcoholic will be enjoyed along with a good dose of laughter which I always welcome.  A night with friends is never a bad thing.  I look forward to it.  And then next weekend starts the streak of a few really awesome weekends of music with my people!  I’ve got Old Crow Medicine Show and the The Stanfields back to back and Matt Mays on the Halifax waterfront complete with a visit with my buddy from Cape Breton.  Gonna be gooders, all of them. I can’t wait. 

For today, it’s just a poem about writing and rain.  And with any luck a few keystrokes on ‘Hardscrabble’.  I long for a quiet café, a steamy cuppa and my pen.  Maybe one night next week or Sunday.  It’s just one more thing to look forward to.

Enough from me.  Enjoy your Thursday!  Do one nice thing for yourself today, no matter how small.  For my thing, I think it’ll be a long hot bath after an unkind water-logged day. 

In propinquity,

Nic

Keep Calm and Write Something

My current work in progress, ‘Mute’, has been a slow meandering process.  I have been side-tracked by real life and so a lot of the time lately I have had lots of thoughts, notes and mini meltdowns but just not enough energy and/or time to get everything down on paper.  What’s more, this story is not unfolding like any of the others I have written in past months.  I am writing sections all out of order and while I find that to be a daunting task, it’s been a fascinating challenge.  This story is also requiring me, courtesy of my characters, to write outside of the box.  I have written a few different things that are important to the scope of the story (at least that’s what my characters are telling me).  It’s coming in small parcels and not in a linear fashion which requires me to ponder and ask them a great deal of questions.  There are always surprises.  I love that about writing, the unknown.  It certainly keeps me on my toes.  I do look forward to when this one comes together and I am able to share it with you.  For now though, they remain all mine.  I can say with all honesty that I don’t mind that so much either.  Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that I belong to them?

It’s Friday.  After a long work week, I hope to regain my lost artist date from last weekend and get out somewhere tomorrow in the sunshine, settle somewhere with my pen and my fictional friends and see what else comes up.  My artist dates are my saving grace, they truly are.  I also have some letters to return so my pen moving in that regard will also fuel up the creative tank, it always does.

I could have shared a poem today but it’s not the polished diamond I want it to be yet so I will save it for another day.  I may even tuck it in my writing book for tomorrow and polish it while out in the wild (so to speak).  No written words today save the bloggy ramblings but it’s a new month and I’m plugging away carefully at my current project, careful to not let the weighty elements of real life stifle my flow.  The characters are still with me so that must be something, yes?

In other news, I reserved tickets for Matt Epp’s return to Halifax at The Carleton on June 23^rd.  I will be accompanied by two of my dearest friends and my sister for this show.  I look forward to this show because it’s his CD release and he’s coming with a great artist called French Press to open for him.  I hold Matt’s work in the highest esteem and regard him as one of the most tender and enlightened artists in Canada.  His shows, for me, equal certain inspiration, absolute spirituality.  His work is uplifting and I’ve really enjoyed watching him soar from his early beginnings in Winnipeg to being so well respected and received, working with other world class talents and sharing his gifts, his love for music and his eternal goodness with us.  In addition to Epp’s show, I have Old Crow Medicine Show on May 31^st to look forward to, The Standfields at Casino NS the very next night and Matt Mays will be rocking the Halifax waterfront on June 8^th with the Red Bull Tour Bus.  There’s nothing like a good dose of live music to whip my creative senses into a wild frenzy.  What makes it all that much more amazing is I’ll be dancing the nights away with some of my best people.  That makes my heart happy.

It’s Friday.  The sun is shining.  The evening ahead will be spent with some of my other best people and then hopefully a restful sleep for my artist date adventure tomorrow.  Maybe I’ll even see best people tomorrow if I’m lucky.

Keep calm and weekend on!

You can tell everybody this is your song …

In propinquity,

Nic

Oh, and a BIG birthday shout out today too to Jeff 'Wise One' MacNeil, UBER talented musician and all around jovial guy.  Sure do miss seeing him play.

Suggestible Minds

Suggestible Minds

allow me to welcome you

to stark minimalist staging

for composed ambiguity

& deceitful aural textures

whatever you do

do not look down

do not brave heavily armed

acquisitions with indifference

at least not of

your own volition

obey to expectations

willfully accept truths

allow me to address you

amply kept audience

on the acquired habits

of conscious conformity

suggestible minds

do not think for yourself

premise of absolutes

attempts to isolate

empirical measurements

are impossible to forecast

when you cannot deliberate

with your own private apathies

suggestible minds

orchestrated purposefully

suggestible minds

manipulated willfully

resonant frequency likely

**

As it always happens, the weekend flew by.  After a particularly rough Friday I arrived home to a pot of stew and Hannah overnight and a visit with Erica.  All, delights that eased my stressful noodle.  I slept like a log too because I knew I didn't have to wake up to an alarm.  Instead, I woke up organically, to the sun streaming in my window and ventured out for the day with Erica, enjoying a lunch and some retail therapy but I was mostly just happy to be in her company.  That was followed by a girls night of sorts at my eldest sister's abode.  Against my better judgement, I drank wine and I knew I shouldn't have because I was battling a headache I've had since early Thursday morning.  Because I indulged, I ruined my Sunday.  I mapped out a perfect artist date for myself.  Halifax in the sunshine with writing and browsing and peacefulness.  Instead I woke up with a migraine and wasted a whole gorgeous sunny day resting so my raging headache would subside.  Disappointed in myself for not heeding my noodle's needs prior to the wine consumption.  Lesson learned.

I'm feeling much better now but still have a dull ache hovering around the eyebrow area.  Just enough to be annoying.  I bought a new tea yesterday, Sleepytime Vanilla.  I just made myself a cup after finishing my laundry and preparing my lunch for tomorrow.  I found enough energy to tweak this poem  I started scribbling mid-week so I could at least feel like I was somewhat productive.  The tea is yummy and perfect for bedtime.  It's my new favorite thing.

Other delights of the weekend:  coming home from work on Friday to a swanky postcard from Haley and my amazon order that included the new David Sedaris book and the book about the song 'Hallelujah' I've been eyeing since Christmas.  I'm armed now with tons of reading material to get me through the next little bit.  I've read a few pages of each book already and I can't wait to get through both of them.  I plan to savor each though because David's stuff is SO good that when I'm done I'm always sad.  His stuff is incredibly smart and funny, so much so that sometimes I make a fool of myself if I'm reading it on my commute home.  I often take to laughing out-loud on the Metro.  Books, good books, rule.

As I prepare to retire for the evening I realize that while I am already missing Hannah being here, her silliness, our 5 minute dance parties and snuggles, I have so much to look forward to in the next while.  A lot of it is music, shows by Old Crow Medicine Show, The Stanfields at the Casino, Matt Mays on the waterfront which also coincides with Kiersten's visit and then Matt Epp at The Carleton come the end of June.  There's even an engagement party in there too.  I also have to get photos done for my passport application for next year's trip.  That time won't come soon enough.  I need out of dodge.

My goal for this week is to complete my current short story, eat better (because I've been bad again), exercise at least 30 minutes each day and try to get enough sleep.  Attainable goals, yes?  I think so.

My headache and I bid you a good night and successful, sunny week ahead.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream ...

In propinquity,

Nic

PS - Poem's moral?  Think for yourself and be mindful that when you use your words, choose them wisely.  Sometimes they hurt even when you don't mean for them to.

Rock Ranger

Rock Ranger

equal parts peace and promise

animate talent louder than bombs

& a pure hurricane-chasing heart

full throttle classic rock ranger

you were an exhilarating surprise

& fused unbridled passion in your stride

this extant twinkling passes by slowly

without your patient dreams dancing

& joyous flashes of musical quick fingers

on the back of a postcard from the road

it simply reads JS, we wish you were here

come back home Jay

                into the light

for you the pursuit of rainbows

on the other side of midnight

will never expire

absence will not quell your golden voice

it is absolute truth you will never be gone

in our bones your music remains

 **

I met Jay Smith twice.  Friendly banter ensued but mostly it me waxing poetic about his performances and him being graciously thankful I enjoyed it.  There may have been a pun or two in there as well, not from me though, surprisingly.

I saw him play several times, on stage with Gordie Sampson, Matt Mays and on his own.  I admired his natural ease, his raw talent, his love of music fiercely evident in his on stage antics and in his voice.

His passing made me profoundly sad.  Too young, too much left to do, see, write and places to play and people to wildly inspire.  Too much living for him to do.  I was so moved at how quickly our incredible tight knit music community here on the East Coast and Canada wide rallied together in both mourning and in celebration of their fallen brother.  I have the utmost respect for Matt Mays for finishing his tour despite their tragic loss.  It takes good humans to carry on and for that Matt and his band have my infinite admiration.

Regardless of the reasons Jay left this world, he awoke in all of us a certain kind of reverence, a great deal of happiness and the music that will continue to color the world and represent his truest essence.  For that, as a fan, I am grateful.

I attended a benefit concert on Sunday evening in support of his little ones, his family.  His musical brothers and sisters filled up the stage with emotionally riveting performances.  It was a love fest.  A celebration.  And, even though for much of the time tears came, there were warm moments of remembrance and tribute from his sister, his wife and his band. 

I’ve been trying to articulate for days what that was like to be a small part of that but I really still can’t.  So, I wrote a poem.  I’ve read over a hundred times and it feels cliché to me because there truly aren’t words beautiful enough for Jay.  But, I tried.

It is difficult to watch people lose their dearest friend, their son, brother, husband and father.  It is difficult to know someone so admired was in pain.  It is simply difficult to lose the things and people we love.  The trick is to know how to celebrate them when they are gone from us.  I will continue to listen and celebrate, for his life, his memory and those who loved him most.  And judging from the crazy amount of love he generated I am certain his gifts will be paid forward, time and again.

In propinquity,

Nic

Jay Smith

1978 - 2013

Rest peacefully, Rock Ranger

Waste Land

Waste Land

barren mind

empty pockets

moral ruin

bankrupt art

desolate heart

you

were my only hope

**

Prose is kicking my butt again.  I started writing a poem this morning (not this one) and then it occurred to me that the lines would work in my new (I said new) short story, titled 'Mute'.  Prose is stealing my poetry!  How rude!  I don't mind so much though because I'm writing, the Muse is active and I'm enjoying this long stretch of creative energy.  

I confess that I've been thinking a little bit more about Greyson (see Half Windsor Knot) and about his back-story.  I feel like I will at some point return to him and hope he'll be more open to telling me what needs to be told.

I'm out of sorts today.  I have a gaggle of butterflies in my tummy and my hands feel sweaty.  I'm on edge for some reason and I can't explain why.  Doesn't help that we've been delivered another blast of wind by way of freezing cold, gusty wind and below zero temps. Braving the wind without earbuds today is going to be simply awful.  Let's pray my goofy winter hat his in the bottom of my work bag somewhere.

I purchased tickets for me and two friends to attend the Jay Smith memorial concert at Casino Nova Scotia on Sunday.  Smith was a young, vibrant musician and human being.  He died while on tour with Matt Mays and it has sent a giant wave of sadness through our community of artists and music lovers out her on the East Coast and across the country.  In loss, there is a tremendous amount of healing power in music.  I just know that room will be full of good humans pulling together in one long song for a fallen brother.  That's when you  know just how powerful music is, in its healing elements, in it's beauty.  One room, one voice, one human heart.

Not a lot to share today other than this teeny poem and the knowledge that I am yet again on another journey with a few new characters.  I am pleased as punch.

Long week, short blog entry.

In propinquity,

Nic