hot enuff for ya?

it's stinkin' hot (it ain't the heat, it's the humidity) here in Ontari-ari-ari-o, but it's cool here in the local library, so it's time to bring you all up to date on the fascinating facts of the life of a girl singer. First, back in May, we had the many gigs in Toronto, then we finished up the month at a wedding celebration here in the highlands (there i am, in the orange, then, when my shirt turned yellow, singing with Irene); then, well to be honest, not a lot has happened except for trying to get rid of some junk in my place (listen to my song entitled "No More Stuff" - oh, i'm sorry, it's not on CD yet, which is why i need more money) - you can listen to it soon, i promise. PARAGRAPH So after the collecting of stuff, I had to sell some of it, thus the next pictures showing the beautiful location of the community flea market, a fundraiser for the arts gallery. See the appealing table of some of my goodies, and myself lounging by the lake, waiting for customers. PARAGRAPH And then it was on to the studio to record a couple of tunes. Lucky me to have a local music society that helps artists in the community financially for this. and lucky me to have such great and musical friends, such as Ian, - studio engineer and bassist, and John, saxophonist and flautist, and Carl (late of The Guess Who), playing drums and guitar. And a great time was had by all. Photos show only Ian, John, and myself. Didn't have the camera for Carl's session. PARAGRAPH Today was going to break a lot of temperature records, so for our lunch date, the girls and i decided to just go to Heather's house and jump in the lake, after eating her splendid spread. See photo of strawberry soup (fabulous!), and other salads she had prepared. So tra la la la, la la la meeting; we're so happy when we're eating. I don't know what'll happen tomorrow....Goodnight, Mr. McGarrigle.

The Shape of Things

If you didn't know what this photo was, you might think it was an interesting shape, possibly even pleasant. To me, it could be a distant shoreline of mountains, with the waves of the lake in the forefront. But once revealed (turned clockwise) as a human body, sideview, it becomes very much less than attractive, verging on repulsive. Just a subtle shift of focus, but a huge effect. And there you have illustrated the work of life: overcoming the downward pull of everything. PARAGRAPH That was Friday night's rumination, leading to Saturday, June 9, 2012 (or Saturn's day, - the planet of S-L-O-W), during which (whose?) arrival occurs, not slowly, but in the speediest succession, even crazier dreams than before. Here, from last night, and by way of example, is the most CRAZY DREAM ever: A toilet bowl of my own shit, recently expelled, and imploring me, in a plaintiff child's voice, "Don't leave me". And then I talk back, and explain, in patient and loving parental tones, that I'm not really leaving (or somehow I make it that way), and the result of my soothing persuasion is that my shit goes down the toilet hole of its own volition, like a trained snake, without having to be flushed. PARAGRAPH NOW THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IS IN DIRECT CONTRAST TO THE DREAM OF THE NIGHT BEFORE (THE RUNAWAY BOAT - SEE LAST BLOG). This is total control. And the nice thing about my head is that both dreams have happy endings. I won't list all the other dreams, only the one before waking, which had my mother, who had a knack for drawing, but with eight children, no time to pursue her talent, - she was happily working on a painting in the kitchen - a black and red oeuvre. Which puts me in mind of Stendhal's famous book, "Le Rouge et Le Noir", which I read in university. It also reminds me of Jacques Brel's reference to 'le rouge et le noir' getting married in his heart-rending song "Ne me Quitte pas", which means "Don't leave me", - a beautiful reprise of the pleas of my self-directed faeces, - a circle. PARAGRAPH It seems everything is as it should be, in spite of my current tendency to hand-wringing and worry about "What now?", and "Whither go I?", as my last gig fades into the past, and another year of self-directed life (including the shit) looms before me. "Steady on," say my dreams. "All is possible. Ride the mighty steed". And so I will begin today with some studio recording, thanks to the financial help of the Haliburton Folk Society, and to my talented and stalwart friends - all of them caught up in the crazy dream of music, music, music.

crazy dreams

I have a song with that title - a very good one - (it's on the CD "Up the Highway", available at Indiepool.com, if you want to buy it) But the reason I mention it is my very crazy dreams of last night, which keep coming back to me, and saying, among other things, "Write us down, Zoe). PARAGRAPH OK, there must be a message for me, which will reveal itself over time, or maybe even as a write, which does happen sometimes.... PARAGRAPH So, there I was, dreaming, when all of a sudden the huge boat gets loose on the river and starts going wildly downstream, totally beyond my control. How the hell; what the hell, I think - but there's nothing I can do. How relieving to see that the vessel somehow turns into the driveway of our old family home, and crashes and stops, but without hurting the huge stallion that is in there. Nice horsey. And aside from the wrecked boat, tutto bene, which is to say, everything's just hunky dory. PARAGRAPH So, mein doctor, vat do you sink of all zat?