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Archive for July, 2008
After a particularly frustrating morning of editing, I left the Rockhead office and strolled around Yorkville trying to get back into the narrative zone. The lunching hour was upon me, and I had a hankering for some overpriced Whole Foods fruit. After purchasing a shiny apple I went to exit the store. I was going up the escalator and saw in front of me a face that I recognized. I couldn’t, for the life of me, pinpoint how or from where I knew this dude before me. Then it hit me with a bolt of awesomeness: BATTLESTAR GALACTICA. In front of me at the Toronto Whole Foods stood The Chief, Galen Tyrol – also known as Aaron Douglas. I reacted instantly, “You’re in Battlestar!” He replied, “Why, yes I am.” “You’re the Chief and you’re awesome,” I blurted out. Smooth, MP. “Thanks,” he calmly responded, no doubt thinking about the organic fare we has soon to procure. With one last ounce of annoying harassment I demanded, “Who is the fifth cylon?!?!?!!” With an air of loftiness he answered, “Oh, I can’t tell you that.” “You’re such a cylon,” I told him. He chuckled a bit, and then we both went our separate ways. And with that small junction of nerdiness, my day was instantly enlivened, and I went back to work with a big fat sci-fi smile on my face. Thank you, Chief… even though you are a cylon and can hear ‘All Along the Watchtower’ in the walls of your mighty ship. NERD ALERT.
Dredger had a brilliant Thursday idea. The idea involved vacating Toronto in favour of trees, towels, and twang. We packed up our hats and headed to Orillia for the Mariposa Folk Festival on the shores of Lake Couchiching. We went for Joel Plaskett, and hung around for Peter Elkas, Hayden, Cuff the Duke, and some other folkies. It was definitely one of those days that ends with such satisfying and mellow happiness that only the tenacious strum of acoustic guitars can generate. The drawl of the steel strings peeking through a cover of Dylan’s “Ride Me High” had me hooked. Oh lord, we’re gonna fly down in the easy chair. Twang really is a fine spice that I have a ferocious appetite for. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a fan of Country music… with their ‘gas tanks full of dreams’ and ‘man, I feel like a woman’ bullshit. But I do like my twang. I like it a lot. I like it particularly when it accompanies the likes of hipsters like Joel Plaskett. Frankly, the hipsters have embraced the twang and I am right on that bandwagon with them, bumbling along this crazy indie rock hayride. Anyway, Andrew and I lay in grass and listened to acoustic guitars in the sun. After a sufficient amount of sun exposure we opted for the beer tent. During a set with Peter Elkas and Joel Plaskett I yelled out “I Love Clayton Park!” Afterwards, some guy approached Andrew and I and asked “Are you from Halifax?” Our answer: “No. We’re just hip.” Ha cha. And then it was back to Toronto, and back to humidity until another weekend delivers us to the forest.
You might say that I have a need for speed. You also might say that I have very bad luck. This MP lives constantly under a dark cloud of unfortunate happenstance. It follows me around like a sad three-legged dog… sniffing at my feet every now again, I can’t help but trip on it from time to time. And so began a lovely weekend at the cottage with Andrew. He suggested that I take the wheel on our way up north, so I did. Then he played ‘Sabotage’ by the Beastie Boys really loud which forced my foot to the floor just south of Bancroft. It was there that I was pulled over by an officer of the law, with Andrew beside me muttering “They’re gonna take the car away. They’re gonna take the car away”. They didn’t take the car away. But they did slap me with a doozie of a speeding ticket, which definitely learned me a lesson. I will not be driving Andrew’s car any time soon. I am a criminal. At any rate, the weekend pressed onward, and so did we. The cottage or bust!
My streak of unlucky MP-ness did not ebb as we hit the lake to soak up the rays. I totally tripped on the steps down to the dock, and banged up my ankle pretty darn good. This kept me from attempting wake-boarding over the weekend. It did not, however, keep me from hardcore tubing with Andrew. Totally H-core. Fo’ shizzle. Anyway, it was a pretty standard cottage weekend. We finally became licensed anglers, and as such caught practically every single bass in the lake. Andrew had a lucky streak and caught a friggin’ huge large-mouth bass which he then killed, cooked, and ate. I’m normally not one to support the murder of our slimy lake-friends, but that fish was delicious and I appreciated the protein. Ha! Later on Andrew took me on a hike through the woods and up a particularly large hill. The bugs were BRUTAL. It was an all-you-can-eat buffet since we forgot the bug repellent (sweet deet… my saviour) back at the cottage. Once we reached the plateau, the view was absolutely amazing. There was a cliff where people go to hang-glide, with an aptly placed Canadian flag marking the jump-off point. We had a little sit, snacked on some of the wild berries, cursed the infernal buzzing in our ears, and took in a moment of Canada.
Back down at the cottage, we played a silly amount of chess, scrabble, and Rock Band (Rock Band at the cottage? I know, I know. But during bouts of rain, nothing is sweeter that attempting the drum lines of ‘Enter Sandman’ on medium). And so was our weekend. On the way back to the city we stopped off in Belleville to file my speeding ticket. A sudden jerk back into reality, but it was a lovely day and we had tons of left over chicken to snack on in the car.
It’s strange, but whenever I come home from the cottage I have a sudden urge to give up on city life and buy a cheap plot of land half way between here and nowhere. I don’t think I would mind the middle of nowhere. I think I might actually prefer it.
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