OR RECORDING MY RADIO SHOW

- that's another activity I left out - and have completed.  Listen to Canoefm.com on Sat. June 29 for my show.  on at 10pm eastern time.

so last evening I went out for a little walk in the pre-sunset light and ended up, as I often do, over by the tracks.  Used to always be the railway tracks, but there's also the subway running nearby, and some nice, abandoned grasslands just alongside.  I was up on a rise; some young boys were playing down by the fence line; the sun had splashed everything: the hill, the waving long grass, the pathway, and all of us, in its gorgeous rosy light.  The boys noticed me at some point, and began calling out to me, as they will do when they're far enough away.  As soon as I started to acknowledge them, however, they all ran and hid in the bushes that were down there.  All except one little guy, who came struggling up the hill, slipping and picking himself up; he had bright red hair - what I could see in his buzz cut, and he started asking me as he got closer:
"What are you doing?"
"I'm walking", I said..
"Where are you going?"
"Well, first I'm walking this way, and then I'm walking back", I said, indicating the length of the path.
He had little horn-rimmed glasses on, and eyes that were magnified.
"I'm Remington", he said.
So perfectly named, I thought.  I told him it was a great name, and he said, yes, his parents named him that, and started off down the hill again, after pointing out to me that the other boys were hiding.
On his way down, he turned around and hollered, "What's your name?"
I told him, and as I walked away, I could hear him telling the others, who came out to meet and question him.
"Her name is Zoe", he said importantly.

It was a good walk, and now I know Remington.

DON'T DO THIS AT HOME!

The thing is - when I'm not singing, or swimming, or reading, or on my bike, or spending time with friends, family or my lover, or food shopping or cooking, or doing a massage, or teaching those horrible children - I can be either extremely lazy, or, as I learned today, sort of nuts.

I should add making videos to my list of possible activities, because that's what I am currently doing to keep myself off the streets, but it didn't work today, - at least it didn't keep me off the ground.  There I was, creatively searching for subjects for the next brilliant video for youtube, to accompany some of my songs - and I suddenly got the brain wave to illustrate one of the lines from my tune "Gotta Move On" ( from my latest CD - watch for the video soon).

So this one line says "gotta roll on", and I decided to do that literally and I filmed myself rolling on down a hill - just like I used to love to do when I was six years old.  Well, here's the news, folks: it's not fun when you're no longer six.  In fact, it makes you feel ill and quite wretched. The things I do for art.  And does Art ever say thank you?

I survived, but just.  And now I'm passing on to you the benefit of my wisdom (got a little late).  DON'T DO IT.  (although I think it will look like fun in the final video package).

Before all that foolishness, however, I had a great night on Friday at our gig. The pics:

john deehan, me, ron johnston, mike allen, and sam

me being intensely songstressed

THE DULL WIT OF CAPITALISM IN BANKING CENTRES (CIBC)

If there's anything that bugs me, it's meaningless bureaucracy. Had a little run-in this morning, with that anachronism of sixty years or more, and it's all I can do to just run away – fast and furious. It was a bank – not surprisingly – that brought out my wrath. Bad enough their obscene profits; they have to be obtuse and annoying in the process.

Last week, I was thinking about doing a little traveling in the fall, so dropped in to my local CIBC, and spoke with a nice young man about setting up an account that would let me withdraw cash in most countries. My normal banking company doesn't have actual, physical outlets, and their debit card is not guaranteed to work outside Canada.

The nice young man told me to come back with my VISA card, and a passport, which I did; I also brought with me a second credit card, some bills with my address, including a tax bill, and my Ontario teacher's ID card. The only photo was on the passport, which happened to be Irish rather than Canadian. Canada's passports must be renewed every five years – another source of tedious bureaucracy – while Ireland's last ten years. So although I am Canadian, born in Toronto, I have Irish citizenship as well, through my grandfather.

I can't really blame the nice young man – even if all he did was repeat the rules over and over, and show me the brochure that states those rules. It's the manager's fault; and I have grave doubts about what those people can honestly “manage” in real life. God forbid they should base a decision on common sense - in this case lots of ID, including a photo on a passport which states I was born in Canada. I also have a mortgage with CIBC, which they have in their files, and have had many accounts with them over the years.

But stupid rules are stupid rules, and so, rather than offer service, they rigidly and dim-wittedly maintained their position for precisely and only what's listed in their beloved brochure – and thus lost my business. Oh, I know they don't really care, because I would have had a “no-fees” account, and CIBC wouldn't make a profit from this one pathetic customer.

It's a good thing I can sing; and don't have to live a life limited by “business”. Even if I'm poor – and I can live, and have lived, below the poverty line quite happily, often enough. I think I have more by being able to remove myself from this “mean” mean. I quit office jobs a long time ago because of this same lack of intelligence, imagination, and commitment to what I consider reality.

I'm reminded of my very brief stint many years ago with the government's income tax service: we all sat in rows in a big room, checking returns, while a man did nothing but walk up and down the aisles, presumably to make sure we were working. I used to put my pencil down, and place my hands in my lap until he passed my desk. He never said a mumblin' word, of course. Jerk.

I quit the job as soon as I could. 

I'm singing tonight at Gate 403

403 Roncesvalles Avenue, Toronto

9pm

with John Deehan, sax; Mike Allen, guitar; and Ron Johnston, bass

Come and have some fun.