This dog sums it up for today

Her Ghost

Fiona walks out on stage, the sullen purple lights reflecting the whiteness of her nightgown. She sits at the piano, delicate, but unsteady: like she hasn’t walked in a while. She is shrugging that Fiona shrug and “Get Him Back” fumbles its way out of her fingers into the speakers.

Fiona is a ghost. The dark circles under her eyes--menacing in the naked glow of the stage lights--are magnified by the whiteness of her almost transparent skin. She drifts across the stage like an apparition, floating, seemingly footless beneath her liquid dress. Her sinewy shoulders peak out from behind her nightgown straps, and they jerk around from time to time; the spirits within her pushing for emancipation.

But ghost or not, she sings like a bird. Her voice skips elegantly above the music like a flat stone over a calm river. At times, she is channeling Billie Holiday, or Etta James. Other times, she is Janice Joplin, and the demons are almost screaming to get out of her.

At times, you feel like you’re watching someone resolve her innermost problems, up there in front of thousands of people. She’ll drop to her knees and sing on the ground, seemingly battling an emotional vertigo, but then propels herself back up to sing “Fast as you Can.” The mellow moments were exceedingly mellow, almost 1950s jazz. The energetic moments were fierce and quick and brooding with intensity.

Fiona’s ghost may be the shell of some broken woman from days past, but her shell glitters with the brilliance of a diamond.

____________

Damien Rice opened the night and he rather impressed me with his attack and energy. He’s mostly known for his slower songs, and for singing out of tune on his records, and although he did a little of that, Damien’s voice was great. The timbre and character in his voice overcome those moments when he’s a little pitchy, but those moments were few and far between (which surprised me, seeing as his best-known hit has him singing uncomfortably off key).

We ran into Damien (almost literally) coming out of the show. The parking situation was overwhelming, so we wanted to make sure we’d be able to get to our cars and get the hell outta there. On the way out, we saw a very little man (all the good singers seem to be so short!) walking in front of us with a small entourage of musicians carrying their instruments. Lo and behold, Mr. Damien Rice. So I pinched his bum.

I was waiting for an appearance by Jon Brion, but it was not to be. I guess the tendonitis has kept him from doing any playing. I hope he comes back to music soon!

Now that I seem to be going backwards in the evening, I’ll take you to my afternoon where Dara, her friend Malinda, and I were walking around Santa Monica, and the 3rd Street Promenade. Good times were had by all.

Time for bed.

Oh Canada...

Today, Wikipedia’s feature article was on a favourite (yes, that’s how I spell it) subject of mine: Canada! Lately, I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of defending of my little 10 million km2 (that’s 3.9 sq mi) parcel of land that’s “all tucked away down there” as Homer Simpson so deftly put it. But while my American friends may not agree on some of the cultural differences, here are a few points of interest that may grab Canada’s southern neighbours (yes, that’s how I spell it):

Canada finished the World War II with one of the largest militaries in the world.

Canada is one of the world's wealthiest nations, a member of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) and Group of Eight (G8).

Canada is a free market economy with slightly more government intervention than the United States, but much less than most European nations.

Canada has traditionally had a lower per capita gross domestic product (GDP) than its southern neighbour (whereas wealth has been more equally divided), but higher than the large western European economies. For the past decade, after a period of turbulence, the Canadian economy has been growing rapidly with low unemployment and large government surpluses on the federal level. Today Canada closely resembles the U.S. in its market-oriented economic system, pattern of production, and high living standards.

Canada is one of the few developed nations that is a net exporter of energy.

Adult literacy is 99%

Since 2001, Canada has successfully avoided economic recession and has maintained the best overall economic performance in the G8.

Oh Canada, we stand on guard for thee….

Mancow's morning madhouse

Today on Mancow, one of the co-hosts said, "[some guy had] literally ripped someone's head off," and then Mancow proceeded to (figuratively) rip that co-host's head off, explaining that if someone had literally ripped off a head, there would be blood and jailtime involved. Maybe this Mancow is not such a bad guy.

Happy Monthiversary

Today was momentous for several reasons: It has been one month since Dara and I entered into holy matrimony. It's been a happy month, and I look forward to about 840 (or so) more months.

Second, it was Dara's first day at her new job. I'm very proud of my girl; I know she'll succeed in whatever she does, so keep doing your thang, girl.

I love you very much, Dayray.

O

The standing ovation has lost all meaning. It is as cliche as the cowboy riding into the sunset, or the celebrity breakup. It's too bad- it was once a nice gesture.

One more important point to make

Dara's coming home tomorrow! Welcome home babe!

Two points to make

There’s so much to talk about right now; I’m just going to give you the abbreviated version of two issues for today:

To the ELF/ALF (Earth/Animal Liberation Front), I have this to say:

To use violence as a means of affecting change, will not bring about the kind of change you want. Ask Hitler. Ask Al Zarwahiri exactly how effective a tool violence has been for him? Death and violence only marginalizes your cause and your voice. As members of a democratic society, you should know that already.

“60 Minutes” did a report on the Earth /Animal Liberation Fronts (ELF/ALF). Members of these related groups advocate violence, manifested in arson and bombings, in order to send their message. And that message is: the earth is going to have revenge for the violence that has been done to it.

I agree that man has done a really good job of subduing the world, and it upsets me, but not to the point of wanting to bomb buildings.

The report indicated that the E/ALF have together been responsible for more than $100 million in damage in the U.S. Imagine using that money to invest in new energy technologies, or alternatives to animal experimentation. Instead, these organizations have been forces of destruction and divisiveness.

And to the man (a practicing surgeon) who feels it’s acceptable to kill 10-15 humans to save a million “non-human lives,” I say--if it’s your job to save people’s lives--you need a new profession. Animals aren’t the same as humans. They’re not the same as the slaves were; they never will be. They have no ability to reason. As a doctor, you should understand the food chain. Do you suppose the dinosaurs agonized over eating their food? Hey Rex, I’m thinking of switching to tofu. Um, no.

To you people in these so-called “Liberation Fronts,” you do a disservice to the cause. You make me sick.

---
And in other news:

Right now, North Korea is preparing to test a long-range nuclear missile, capable of reaching the U.S., Iran is belligerently raving about the destruction of Israel, simultaneously enriching [weapons-grade?] uranium. The U.S. is deployed and over-extended in Iraq, with nary a WMD to be found. It’s not my army, but I’m going to have to say that, strategically, I think I disagree with the leaders in a certain five-walled building, about which threats were most immediate to the U.S., and the world.

Why I think my Brother-in-Law would like "Arrested Development."

I always seem to stumble upon popular facets of entertainment late in the game. It wasn’t until season 4 of Curb Your Enthusiasm was already out on DVD that I had first viewed the show. The same goes with the show Arrested Development. Although I am usually aware of these shows (it’s difficult not to be), I tend to take my time getting around to them. After I did fall for the show, I immediately thought of my brother-in-law, Larry.

Larry has opened many artistic doors for me, the most notable was his subtle insistence I listen to the band Jellyfish. Eventually I did, and Jellyfish opened many of my musical doors through the introduction of many other amazing musicians, namely Jason Falkner, Jon Brion, and the numerous derivations thereof. Since the time I was re-born, musically speaking, I knew I had to pay Larry back. So I keep trying with little things here and there, but to little avail. Sure, I have introduced Larry to a few bands or movies, but even when I do, he either didn’t latch onto it or, in the case of Cotton Mather, there was nothing to latch on to, because the CD has been off the market for years.

Part of the problem is due to our differences in opinion on what makes a good show or not. I think musically we are formed by a similar nucleus of bands and songs, but with Hollywood entertainment, we can often be like two positively charged ions. Still, we share many similar tastes. For instance, we both love NBC’s The Office, or the mini-series, Band of Brothers, among many others. Among the failed recommendations I’ve made to Larry:

The 40-Year-Old Virgin.
Curb Your Enthusiasm.
Ben Folds’ music.

Some of my successes:
Crash.
Cotton Mather.

That’s it.

In an attempt to grow the list, here is my case in favour of the now-defunct Fox show, Arrested Development (why does Fox always cancel successful shows?)

At the risk of over-hyping the show, allow me to define why I think the show would appeal specifically to Larry (which he asked me to do the other night at dinner), besides just being enjoyable on its own merit; that merit being humour and sympathetic characters.

Damn, Larry, we Canadians really do qualify everything, huh? Well, here goes:

First off, the show features a crazy family of questionable ethics, however, the protagonist (a smartly-named Michael Bluth) is an honorable man who often does the right thing. I noticed how impressed you were with that kind of character in Cinderella Man and, considering that movie’s director is the narrator and executive producer, I thought some of that morally-strong character might spill over. I thought you might like that.

The family business is a development company. As such, there is light real estate talk peppered throughout the episodes. I thought that might give it relatability.

The show is about having crazy family members living with you. Can you relate to that, Mr.?

Finally, I think the writers might be conservatives. I say that because of some of the jokes in the show seem to poke playful fun at liberals. One of the characters on the show, played by Portia, is a limousine liberal, who spends a lot of time hosting fundraisers and protests, but whose lifestyle constantly contradicts what she’s in favour or against. Also, I think the writers subtly (I mean very subtly) betrayed their feelings in favour of pre-emptive war and military aggression, through the off-hand remarks of the protagonist. I may be completely off base here, but the way Michael interacted with an obviously left-wing ethics teacher seemed to disclose the assumptions the writers make (kind of what you were talking about in your Vaughn article) about the audience. Or perhaps not. It’s not overt; it’s sort of playful; perhaps it’s tongue-in-cheek and I just missed it (entirely possible). But even so, I think Larry would enjoy the show. Now if only a few more friends would recommend it to him, it might counteract the points the show has lost at my very recommendation (just kidding, Lar. I know you’re open to what I suggest).

All you need is love

Day 2: Dara’s birthday.

Today we walked around New York, New York, Excalibur (which was lame), and the MGM hotels before we went back to the Aladdin to get ready for Dara’s surprise show. She used her Jessica Fletcher sleuthing skill to figure out which show I bought tickets for, and so the surprise lasted only until a few hours before the show. The show we went to see was Cirque du Soleil’s “Love” which made great use of the Beatles’ music. More on that later.

We walked to the Mirage, which is the hotel that puts on the show. While waiting for the doors to open, we all waited in a psychedelic glass foyer with lit plastic sculptures and round, glass mirrors on the walls. I was leaning up against one of these mirrors, drinking my pre-show, $4, tiny bottle of water, when I heard a loud crashing sound. The mirror I was leaning against had shattered. It was a big mirror; we’re talking around 6’ diameter mirror. Shattered. Under my big ass. With hundreds of people gawking at my 7-year mistake.

My immediate thought, as the blood drained from my face, was, how much is this thing going to cost me? I was tallying up the figures in my head when the man in charge ran to my side and started apologizing profusely, expressing with frustration how the mirrors are meant to withstand the full weight of a hefty punch and still not break. I was swishing the word “lawsuit” around in my head like an aged wine when the doors opened and I sought the solitude of a dark, faceless arena to escape my embarrassment. And then I saw a show which made me totally forget my public clumsiness. Here’s what I saw:

____
Before I start, let me explain that Cirque du Soleil’s newest show involves the Beatles’ music in a unique way. There was no live band, but they weren’t just throwing on the old Abbey Road CDs either. Rather, Sir George Martin helped compile the music by going back to the original masters of these songs, remixing them and cutting them to fit the mood of the show. Sometimes you’d hear Ringo Starr singing “Octopus’s Garden” and a faint hint of “Goodnight” (another Ringo vocal vehicle) would be overlapping in a subtle, pleasing way. The versions of the classics were often much the same as the original, and sometimes, (as in the case of “While My Guitar…” which was a slowly-strummed acoustic number) they were completely different. In all cases, the songs sounded incredible, almost obscuring the visual spectacle itself. Almost.

The show opened with a quad of four young, single men who are obviously looking for love. While they walk out on the stage, edited clips of old Beatles’ studio outtakes are cleverly played to emphasize the scene, and all but one of the men find love and move on. The rest of the show is a journey of the senses, to define love and to cast the brilliance of the Beatles music on a new palette. And the brilliance shines forth almost from the first scene.

I nearly wept in my seat the minute “Because” came on. The sound was so rich and full, with speakers set 360 degrees around the theatre, not to mention built-in to the back of our headrests. From the moment the first note of “Because” sounded, the dance between visual and aural stimulation of the evening commenced. There was no lack of stimulation, to be sure; it was a feast for the eyes and the ears, as acrobats danced and dived and defied death in the way that Cirque performers have become famous for. The stage would be static one minute, and then transform almost instantly into a trampoline minefield, which set the scene for the dramatic conflict between police and protesters in an 60s-hearkening, “Revolution.” Another minute, the stage would be crowded with a circus of people, of VW Bugs that drive, and then collapse into 10 big pieces which fit like a puzzle and are carried off by performers.

But more than the stage or the props or the performers, the music would compel the story forward in a beautiful, immediate way. If there was a protagonist, it was the music itself, although there were many familiar characters, including the likes of Eleanor Rigby and her famous foil, Father McKenzie, in a particularly melancholy scene .

There was almost too much to concentrate on, visually, so my peripheral vision was put to the test, watching an often Dr. Seuss-like scene unfold, while a death-defying acrobat would flip his swing over and over again, never seeming to lose his balance. Some of the visuals were bizarre and seemed as drug-inspired as the very songs that inspired these scenes, which I found appropriate (especially during songs like “Lucy in the Sky…”).

The more I write about this, the less justice I do the show. I realize, now, the futility of describing something so sublime and intricate with something so feeble as the human word (at least in my hands). Fans of the Beatles’ music, of spectacle and magic, of the creativity of the human mind and body, will do well to go see this show. After all, you’ll want to find out if the poor man from the first scene ever finds love. I found love, and I’m glad I did.

_________
Getting back to the subject of Dara’s birthday- we came out from the show, awe-struck and smiling, and headed towards the Venetian for an expensive, but tasty meal. It was here that I started to wish that Dara’s friends and family were nearby because, on such an important occasion as a 25th birthday party, and for someone who holds such things so highly (as Dara does), having family and friends around is important. I feel bad that I couldn’t provide that for her. I wanted to do a good job in making sure she enjoyed her birthday (and she did), but if there was a cake (there wasn’t), and there was a wish (again, nope), it would probably have been to be with her friends and family. So to all of you out there who fit this category, in the words of Pink Floyd, we wish you were here.

Happy birthday my darling bride.

Viva Las Vegas

Viva Las Vegas Day 1: Well, I took my beautiful wife to Las Vegas for her birthday this year. Although money is really tight for us, this is her first birthday away from Toronto and I wanted to do something special.

And what a special car ride it was on the way here. It felt like 200 miles of rush-hour traffic. People warned me to leave early, and although I tried, there was just too much to do. At 4:45, I was caught in Friday rush-hour traffic on the 91. Any Californian will tell you, that is not a fun experience.

But we eventually arrived at 10:15, just as the GPS (we call her Dame Judy Dench) predicted. We’re staying at the Aladdin Hotel and Casino. I had never heard of this place when I booked it on Hotwire, but thankfully Dara has, and thankfully it’s not a shabby place, complete with towering ceilings which mimic the sky and a mock-up of ancient middle-eastern architecture. It’s nice.

We had a nice meal at an Oyster bar (of all places) and this morning (HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARA!) we had some room service. I don’t know why, but I just love room service. If I were a billionaire, I would move into a hotel and order room service for the rest of my life.

During breakfast, I revealed to Dara that we’re going to see a show. Dara’s a bit of a sleuth, so I have to reveal bits of her surprise to her, to keep her from trying to figure it out on her own (which she eventually would if I didn’t work hard to keep it from happening). I had to tell her I bought tickets to a show to keep her from trying to buy tickets to a different show, herself. Same with the hotel: I had to tell Dara I reserved a hotel room to keep her from reserving a hotel room herself; she’s quirky that way.

So driving on the strip last night she tried to guess what hotel we were staying at, by reading every billboard we saw. “Are we staying at Whisky Pete’s?” she inquired. “Damn,” I’d respond, indicating she’d guessed it. And so on.

And so it goes with the show tonight. For my reader(s), I will give you a hint: I love Dara very much. In case Dara is reading this, I shall say no more. Needless to say, she could probably figure it out from that subtle hint right there.

So today we hit the Venetian, New York, New York, Paris… it’s like we don’t have to travel at all (and maybe I can save on the expensive Europe trip my darling is already planning in her mind).

To my friends and family I say, hello- you are missed. To Dara I say, happy birthday, love. I hope you enjoy your trip. I hope you know how glad I am that you’re my wife. And to Elvis Presley I say, I know you’re out there somewhere, hiding. But I will find you.

The wedding- Cliff's notes version

I feel like I should offer a few words on the blissful matrimony I experienced just a few weeks ago in May, but as the date gets further away, I have less and less to say about it. Not that there’s not a lot to talk about. But the day is becoming more internalized, and I have described it to so many people, I feel like my best efforts to paint the events of May 21, 2006 will come up flaccid. But for the benefit of my loving audience (hi again, Mom), I will take a stab at it.

May 26 (oops, 21) started out relatively relaxed; breakfast with my friend (and Dara’s bridesmaid) Derek, lunch with my family at the Hilton, and then final preparations for the big day. Anyone who knows me knows I’m not a naturally organized guy, so I was a bit worried about those final wedding prep items (pick up the suit from the cleaners, pick up the chuppah from the officiants, pick up the bouquet….) Surprisingly, it worked out. I didn’t forget anything, or leave anything behind, although I did find myself rushing, showering and dressing at the eleventh hour.

I arrived at the scene of the crime, a beautiful place called the Palace Garden which overlooked a lagoon. The funny thing about getting married is how quickly the moment changes from hectic running around to a surreal, intimate moment with you and the people closest to you. You step through a portal which divides life before marriage and life afterwards. The transition is almost instant, and I don’t want to over-dramatize the moment (a common flaw in my writing), but one minute I’m rushing to get ready for some ceremony, and the next minute I turn my head and there is my bride.

And what can you say about a moment like that? You just can’t say anything. You accept it. You step through that portal (now rushing up at you) and you smile as you realize this stunning woman is here for you.

What can I say about the ceremony itself? It was us. A little chaotic; a little disorganized; completely unrehearsed; and it was perfect (not to say we’re perfect, though). There were laughs and there were tears as the sun dropped down behind us. Larry played “Here, There, Everywhere” by the Beatles; a song which represents our love and our season of transition, and all the places we love and that are important to us. We met and fell in love in Toronto, got engaged in New York, were married in Hawaii and will reside in California. It was fitting that there were people from all over.

The ceremony concluded in the traditional way: soft kiss (“church kiss” they called it on The Wedding Singer), me stamping the crap out of some poor, defenseless glass, a hoorah and we’re off to the reception. We’re married!

The reception was held in a beautiful place called “Lagoon Lanai.” I’m deceiving you here a little bit, because the reception was about a stone’s throw away from the palace gardens, but it was overlooking a waterfall across a small river. I find it funny to point out that Dog the Bounty Hunter of reality TV fame got married just one day before us in the very place we did.

I think the only hiccup of the night occurred when the music didn’t start out perfectly, but we got it sorted out (my iTunes was my DJ for the night) and the caterers did the rest. The food was amazing, and I had a great time making my way from table to table, spending time with family and friends. What a great way to spend a night!

I was blown away when the speeches came and both my parents and my sister Cherie (all of whom are not known for the extroverted personalities) got up on stage to give a speech. I was floored. Dara’s parents also gave nice speeches (not to mention her brother) and then Dara and I got up and gave it a shot ourselves, which led into our first dance, which led into our dance with our parents (which was all nice).

I’m doing the evening a disservice by recapping it this briefly, but take my word for it: a good time was had by all. Most importantly, I made a commitment to my lady to be together always, and so did she. And that was a beautiful thing.

PS I milked a dolphin.

Home Sweet Home

Over the past few weeks, there has been an abundance of life to blog about. But the problem when you're living life, is that there is no time to blog. I'm going to try to catch up, but for now, this picture says it all. Thank you all for making May 21, 2006, the best day of my life. Thank you, especially, to the girl in this picture: