An Autumn breeze on a late night. A supper with friends. A heart-wrenching candle-lit performance. A swift passage of distant memories. I may be cursed to eternal dissatisfaction but at least I’m not one that is hard to please.
Great Lake Swimmers remind me of too many things: so many memories, some wonderful, others terrible and those that are wonderful but make me feel terrible (and vice-versa, if that’s even possible). One year ago, at this very time, I was waking up to breakfast in Sweden with roommates that couldn’t get over my obsession with peanut and jam. One year ago, at this very time, I was getting ready to leave for school on my bike, through the walkways of Ryd, through the Swedish morning dusk. One year ago, at this very time, I felt like nothing could possibly stop me or get in my way on my quest to uncover the meaning of life and the source of happiness. If only it was that simple…
I couldn’t help but cry through “A Song For The Angels”… and for some reason, I had to tell the singer how much the live interpretation of the song meant to me. It’s just one of those things that I had to do in order to feel and to be felt. One of those things that I obsess about. Why do I constantly feel this urge to be noticed, to be understood?
I wish Mathieu was around for the show. I wish I had more friends that listened to Great Lake Swimmers and music of the likes. I sometimes wish I was an indie scenster with indie friends that wear indie clothes and have an indie lifestyle… maybe then my life would make more sense. On the other hand, maybe it would be a total chaotic meaningless mess.
It’s getting cold in Québec. Fall’s definately here. I’m still trying to comprehend my whole love/hate relationship that I share with it. Walking on St-Jean with a cool breeze blowing through your hair is so wonderful and calming, yet terribly depressing.
Muted music played on the streets of a neighborhood which I now call home. A cold/warm/orange/grey sky. A sense of calm. A chill of fear. A harsh glimpse of what is to come. La virée des feuilles. The trendy artists, faggots and bums that crowd the sidewalks of the route I walk everyday. Autumn.
I remember writing an email to François, begging him to take pictures of the fallen leaves on Lockwell street just around this time of year, maybe just a bit later. I was homesick. I would have done anything to set foot on that street for just an hour or so… to sit in Parc Lockwell and just observe the busy passerbys. This year the tables have turned: how I wish I could lay down in the tall yellow grass off the bike trails of Ryd near the soccer field and listen to Sarah Harmer as the clouds above drove past me at unmeasurable speeds. Life is a funny thing… it seems that the grass is unfortunately always greener on the other side. So what’s the solution? How do we find happiness within our routine? How do we feel free and well without attempting to grasp what could be, what we don’t presently have and most importantly without hurting those we love.
It’s two in the morning. I can hear people screaming outside, making themselves heard. They are the smart ones.
An Autumn breeze on a late night.
September 16th, 2007 at 11:41 am
Hi there.
Wanted to make contact in case I forgot.
It was a little surreal to hear Tony sing and have that loud music blaring through the side door beside the bathroom.
I was going to work on everything later until I read your blog. I felt compelled to send you a picture immediately. Why are you such a tortured soul? Then again, I should ask myself the same. You seem to be quite a lucky person. You travel, you like good music, you enjoy the small things… coming from someone like me (if you knew me you’d understand why this can be so wrong) probably isn’t right but I have to say… “choose to be happy” and define your own happiness. If tortured is happy then tortured it is.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/evablue/1392564170/in/set-72157602044009341/
What do you do? Why don’t YOU take pictures? Are you a writer? Are you an artist?
http://www.33mag.com/evablue
I do that for now amongst other things but right now this is what I like to do. Music and photo is saving my life.
And I do like your text. It’s nice to read someone who is a verbose as I am.
By any chance were you at Belleayre in August? Hotel Cafe Festival?
Meaning “I talk too much”. I will stop here.
September 17th, 2007 at 11:25 am
My first incursion in your world and I’m already conquered. I really love your writing style, it really conveys all the emotions and feelings and battles and questions that you live. I almost feel ashamed of reading this, like if I were spying through the window that is my computed screen to see inside your head.
Go on like that, you just got yourself a new devoted reader.
September 18th, 2007 at 5:20 pm
Hi there,
Here it is… words and pictures. there’s a full photo gallery too.
http://www.33mag.com/news_details.php?id=971
And ditto to the jason guy’s comments.
September 21st, 2007 at 5:28 pm
Ahh Paul,feels like years ago all of the joy in Ryd…the destinations made all of ours way in the same direction and we lived the seasond together,even it’s not chilly autumn is starting,i felt in my heart that something was passing by…that clouds in me,so happily,welcoming new people there like waving hands to us as if calling us to be there sometime,life is just too complicated to understand everything…
thank you for making me feel like i was back in Ryd….
January 31st, 2008 at 6:01 pm
quote:[Ryd near the soccer field]
damn!! you were, one year ago, at this very time, ridding next to my place.. and you came inside only once!..
I must confess that I often feel the same : the grass is greener.., how be happy living this “métro-boulot-dodo” (quote [within our routine]) shit ?
But the worst for me is not there. The worst, IMHO, is what we call here “actes manqués” like :
- have good time with a real good guy only once (I insist!),
- can’t say “hi” to someone you smiled in the street and see what happened…
…
the list is too long
…
Anyway… I’m too tired to write in a proper English coz it’s 2 in the morning and as you already know, I’m not a good writer (especially in the Shakespeare’s tongue) at the opposite of you ;)..
Je termine donc comme un fainéant en français :p
Je retombe environ tous les 2 mois sur ton blog et je découvre toujours de nouveaux posts super bien écrits. Continue comme ça.. Pose toi toujours autant de questions sur la vie, les gens, toi, ton environnement.. Sois content, triste, ce que tu veux mais SURTOUT ne t’arrête pas de nous le décrire. Je trouve que tu as un réel talent et suis heureux d’être un de tes potes de ce côté-ci du globe.
TAKE CARE Buddy !
January 31st, 2008 at 6:10 pm
I can’t resist to give you that.. I think it’s the real good place
Erykah Badu, Appletree :
”
Id like to dedicate this to all the children
I have some food in my bag for you
Not the edible food the food you eat no
Perhaps some FOOD FOR THOUGHT
Since knowledge is infinite
It has infinitely fell on me so um…
It was a stormy night you know the kind where the lightnin strike
And I was hangin out with some my yatzhee friends
ooh wee ooh wee ooh wee
The night was long the night went on people coolin out until the
break of dawn
Incense was burnin so Im feelin right, aight
See I picks my friends like I pick my fruit
My Ganny told me that when I was only a youth
I dont walk around trying to be what Im not
I dont waste my time trying to get what you got
I work at pleasin me
Cause I cant please you and thats why I do what I do
My soul flies free like a willow tree
doo wee doo wee doo wee
And if you dont want to be down with me, then you dont want to pick
from my
apple tree x3
And if you dont want to be down, you just dont want to be down
I have a hoe
And I take it everywhere I go
Cause Im plantin seeds so I reaps what I sow, ya know, ya know
On and on, and on and on my cypher keeps movin like a rollin stone
I cant control the soul flowin in me
ooh wee ooh wee
See I picks my friends like I pick my fruit
My Ganny told me that when I was only a youth
I dont walk around trying to be what Im not
I dont waste my time trying to get what ya got
I work at pleasin me
Cause I cant please you and thats why I do what I do
My soul flies free like a willow tree
doo wee doo wee doo wee
And if you dont want to be down with me, you dont want to pick from
my apple tree x3
And if you dont want to be down with me, you just dont want to be
down
Oh my my my my, oh my my my my, oh my my my my my my my
I picks my friends like I pick my fruit
My Ganny told me that when I was only a youth
I dont walk around trying to be what Im not
I dont waste my time trying to get what you got
I work at pleasin me
Cause I cant please you, and thats why I do what I do
My soul flies free like a willow tree
doo wee doo wee doo wee
And if you dont want to be down with me, you dont want to pick from
my apple tree
And if you dont want to be down with me, dum dum diddy
And if you dont want to be down with me, you dont want to pick from
my apple tree
And if you dont want to be down with me, you just dont want to be
down
You just dont want to be down,
You just dont want to be down
Fade