Today's accomplishments

1. Chased rabbit out of the garden.

2. Listened to Minnie Pearl album.

3. Ate brownie.

Montreal was an eye-opener; I've spent most of my life in the SouthEastern US, and seeing how different things are up North made me want to travel more, see more, experience more (taste more.)

Getting to be with Laurie again after a week's absence was one highlight. The time apart relarn'd me on just how much I need her. She keeps me from going feral again.

Montreal looks different, sounds different, from anywhere I've ever been. The people look different. Different genetic lines, plus a Frenchier fashion sense, make Montreal as different from Alabama as it is from Mars.

Montreal has tons of free arts and music festivals. There's always free entertainment by top practitioners in the local scene. Thanks for nothing, The South!

I got to spend Saturday hanging with Rick Trembles, a groovy cartoonist and podcaster. If I ran a real blog I would have recorded our conversation for posterity, or at least taken notes. We covered all kinds of oddball movie and cartoon culture stuff, then he showed me some of the dope shops in town.

I hated to leave. The South seems so pokey now.

Newark, Sweet Newark

If your 4:55 PM flight was shifted to 7:30, then you were stuck in a stationary airplane till 11:00, then the flight was cancelled and all of Continental Airlines' employees fled when you approached to ask for help with getting a ticket for the next flight out, then Welcome Home.

Welcome Home to Newark. When you visit the Terminal C Men's Room, the floor might not be covered with wet toilet paper. That's the Newark Promise.

And when the guy in the toilet stall nearby explosively vomits, then flatulates like a dying elderly warthog, Then strolls out behind you to get in line for Burger King, you'll know it's Gotta Be Newark In The Morning!

And if you're ready for Jersey's finest cuisine, ranging from Burger King to Dunkin' Donuts to nothing else, then Newark Airport is on your side.

Remember, if your coffee isn't repulsively presweetened like a cup of liquified Cocoa Puffs, it's not Real Dunkin' Donuts coffee.

Remember, if your airline gives you a free hotel room after it cancels your flight, it's not really Continental Air.

Sweet baby Lewis, it's 2:53 AM, I'm sitting in a foodless food court, writing a blogpost (but not posting it since the airport charges for wi-fi) and the song they're broadcasting at us is "Hurts so good." Yes. It hurts so good. That's the Newark Manifesto.

***

Okay, I'm in Montreal (which looks like Paris in all my old Eric Rohmer movies) and I'm reunited with Laurie. Montreal is quite different from a typical Southern city. I'm extremely provencial, but if I'd been cold-cocked, carried to Montreal, and awakened to wander the streets, one look at the faces around me (nevermind the french and all) would tell me I was no longer inthe Southeastern USA.

Laurie's outta town; heck, outta the country. It's just me and the cat, alone against the evils of Kannapolis. To wit:

1. Birds. I figured the ever-present rabbits would be the main vegetable swipers (BTW The Wallace and Grommit movie, in which our heroes struggle with vegetable-swiping bunnies, is a joy. See it instead of that dreary-looking Batman flick) but our tomato-packed garden has become an enormous bird-feeder. Today I Christoed the whole thing in birdnetting, and this evening the newly ripened tomatoes were in fine, unpecked fettle.

2. Tire slashers. Is it because the mill's closed and there are no jobs, or because it's a sleepy town with little excitement? For whatever reason, someone keeps slashing my girlfriend's tires. My sadistic fantasies of catching and crippling the perp are unlikely to come true.

3. The YMCA. Laurie signed us up for a family account. I had a problem with my account (no photo in the system), they couldn't find me under the phony married name she had given me on the account, and the penny dropped. The desk lady (my neighbour, as it turns out) is delighted; she has triumphed over those who would mock the noble institutions of marriage and the YMCA admissions policy.

4. Unemployment. I didn't get called back for Peter Pan, and I've spent my time finding things like this (courtesy of Cake and Polka Parade.

Oddition

I just did my first audition in North Carolina. All I had to do was sing 16 bars. I chose "Ladies in Their Sensitivities" from Sweeney Todd, which is right out at the edge of my abilities. I knew I could do an easier song and do pretty well, but I figured that I should demonstrate that I could handle a challenge.

So how did I do?

I dunno. They cut me off in the middle of the song, perhaps because I was bad in some way I wasn't aware of, perhaps because my song is so slow and they wanted to keep things moving. When I perform I find I usually can't usefully evaluate my performance, but I think I did a pretty good version of the song. I'm just not sure whether the impression I made was "Aaron nailed this tricky song" or "Aaron's making measurable progress with this tricky song."

OTOH I was the only man auditioning, but that's not much assurance that I'll get cast. Directors always have little black books full of tried and true local performers...

Singin' and Silicone

I'm about to audition for a professional childrens' theatre gig. Relearning "Ladies in their Sensitivities" and trying to recall what Andrew Gainey would say about my practice runs on it. The cat is not pleased to have me banging on a keyboard and making loud sounds to which he is unaccustomed, but the stakes are too high to worry about a cat's aesthetic judgements.

Congrats to longtime reader J. Goldstein, who's seeking his fortune in the Big Apple! Break legs, hoss. (That's right, the tables have turned... I'm reading your blog now.)

And since I know most of my readers are musical fans, I've included a link to some catchy industrial musical mp3s. I've been singing snatches of "False Economy" all day, to Laurie's non-delight.

Courtesy WFMU, an industrial musical of note.

Everything in the garden

Laurie has a small but dense patch of garden out back. The tomato plants are flourishing, and we have fresh tomatoes every yummy night. I'd forgotten how lovely the smell of tomato plants is. One of these days I intend to creep into the gap between the tomato cages, in where the foliage surrounds a human-sized space, and just enjoy the sensation of being surrounded by tomato vines.

I'll spray down with bug repellent, though.

In a pleasant limbo... unemployment is the only source of tension. Working on a bodacious audition piece with which I hope to snag a tasty performance job. Hanging loose with Laurie and sitting in the backyard with the kat much of the time. It's quite peaceful... but I need a job.