Saturday, October 5, 2013

A Love Song to Canada...




I promised you truth in this blog...

so here it is.

I'm in love. 

With a country.


Ever been so much in love...you just can't bear it?

Canadians have a generosity of spirit in such large doses...it's almost more than I can stand.


I was totally and utterly unprepared for it. 

In part...I blame America.


I'm not sure why America is so unkind to them. 

The pop culture denotes a certain degree of...animosity?

No, it's not quite that.  

It is usually snide and belittling. 

Much of what I have seen in the American estimation of Canada (& not just reflected in the arts) seems determined to denigrate, decry, deride, discredit, disparage, scorn, diminish, discount, downgrade, minimise, smear and squash what she has to offer. 

It has almost by osmosis become a part of the cultural vocabulary with which I viewed the place.

I think on some level...I took America's word for it.  Something I admit I am- or have in the past been- wont to do. 


Who doesn't find America a tad on the persuasive side?  If you don't agree with them...they tend to bomb you.

& I thought I loved her.

Am I just a cheap slut, ready to spread my legs for any country?

Not really; I mean, the US is pretty good, to be fair.

But it was just a warm up for Canada.


I guess I HAD to come and see for myself.
 
I'm so glad I did.


Canada does NOT 'suck'.

Set aside the geography for a moment, which I think is quite extraordinary...  

Let's talk about the people.    
   
They are just as I imagined human beings could be- in my dreamiest of dreamy utopian fantasies- but never really saw a great deal of evidence of. 

What I am...

Who I am back home- I can pretty much blow out my arsehole. 

And that in itself is not a bad thing per se. 

It's just a flavour. 


But here?  It would seem the little I have, the VERY little I am, is of some great & significant value to those I meet. 

They let me know it to be true, in thought word and deed.

I KNOW they actually mean it. 

I have had smoke blown up my arse enough to know what is real, and what isn't.

This generosity is real.  as real as it is possible for something to get in this grand illusion we call life.

 
That's not 'me' thing. 

I would have known by now if I had that kind of inherent radiant brilliance.


It's about the people here.

I had heard, in slightly more muffled voices uttered from time to time from certain non-Americans...

that one can fall in love with Canadians.  

I think Billy Connolly mentioned it in his doco on the country.

& I admit...a part of me was resistant to this idea- in the same way one might tend to brace oneself against hypnosis.  

'Oh...this won't work on me'.

Well, you know what??  

It worked on me.

I love them. 

But it's hard not to when they show such love for me.


Why??

Why do they like me?

I'm actually quite a shy retiring fellow in person, very dull indeed, & in all candour, I consider myself a dolt and a dullard. 

I'm actually a VERY mediocre chap, a little bit of an underachiever...

But you wouldn't think so to hear them talk to me!


Is it true?

Could it be so?

Do they actually lift me up on their shoulders? Elevate me? 

Celebrate me?

I think they do!

& for what?

Because I come from Australia!

(they also seem to like my hat...a mundane and functional item I have come to love wearing everywhere, because it makes me feel...safe.  Comfortable. 

When otherwise...I would not.)


It is all I can do to fathom the enthusiasm- I find it perplexing!

(and yes...I feel I have an enormous amount to live up to!

I think a part of me is afraid I will let someone down...truth be told.

Childhood issues, I think!)

& you can see it in their eyes...their souls. 

They take a genuine interest- in large numbers, every day and everywhere I go. 

It's like the really good parts of 'Sister Christian'...wrapped up in a country. 


I am having to re-think everything I presumed to know about the world around me. 

Seriously.  & for a country to cause you to do that...it's a very powerful thing.  


So why do I even question it?

Perhaps it is simply that I don't believe it to be true.

I have had beautiful things taken from me before.

It might all be a trick! 

Sneaky bloody Canadians!!


If so...then why don't I really believe that?

Do I not WANT to believe it?

Do I just tell myself it is heaven, because I want a heaven?


Or is it really the real deal??

I could die here right now and be completely satisfied...

Except I sense they wouldn't permit such a thing to happen to me on their turf!

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine I would experience such a thing.  

I was totally unprepared...totally.  

I could get to like it...but God grant me the serenity to maintain my humility.

I still feel deep down that the attention lavished is truly unwarranted...and for a closet narcissist like me? 

In the long run it may prove unhealthy!

I have to try to not get a big head...

but really, the warmth of the people...quite overwhelming! 


I'm still working a lot of this out...

I mean, parts of this blog were lifted directly from a letter I sent to a Canadian friend this very eve!

But I feel as though, for the first time...

I can actually focus all my thoughts, my inspiration, my creativity into some kind of uniform vision.

I can jam everything into a book, a film...

a song or a picture.

I feel a sense of being on the verge of codifying a singular vision.  

Like the maple leaf.

A singular, symbol of beauty. 

Canada. 

I love you.

Urban Cowboy.

 
There are some funny characters in Montreal, some strange and curious beasts...

but one archetype in particular I love is the little guys who hang out in the park; these little homeless junkie faggots,

hustling for tail. 

I was going to take some pictures...but you know what & who I'm talking about. 

& they all look the same. 

Their schtick is the same.


They start by saying things like, 'oh, you came back'...even though we both know we never met. 

Then they offer to smoke some dope with you. 

One guy had a hard on like a billy club, and he was stroking it.

It reminds me of Burroughs early stuff...remember Herbert Huncke?  These guys are like clean European versions of Herbert. 

And always with the lycra shorts!!


Always on the make. 

They don't care- they play their games of tag in daylight hours; like the squirrels that dash about the grass looking for nuts.



although I will say this...the cops are on their tails toot sweet. 

One guy got picked up almost as soon as he walked away from me.


There are times when I wander about the seedy parts of the city...the drifters and the street urchins...

the lost dogs & the skunk he-pussy...


the way they touch you for some change or a smoke...

it reminds me of Henry Miller. 

I guess it was inevitable...& it's all very romantic, until you feel the shiv in your ribs. 


But I'm sure that's after dark.



I wonder if this cowboy hat isn't sending out the wrong message...


       

Detour De faux France...


As you know...I like a series of pictures of almost the same thing.

I didn't invent the idea...Warhol popularised it...but I want to use a similar pastiche to pay tribute to St Catherine street. 


It doesn't look like much here...I'm not sure I will EVER do the place or the city justice with my lil' ol' camera and modest abilities...but I stood in this spot for hours, listening to the sounds, basking in the joy, looking at the people. 

And if Montreal is about anything...it's primarily about the people. 

(although the architecture is pretty spot-on as well!  I did sit in the Cathedral of Marie-Reine-du-Monde for a wee while- until the solemnity got too much for me. 


I'm not a big fan of Jesus, but he did build some nice amphitheaters for people to grovel in.) 

However...

This is a magical spot...right here. 

Rue de St Cathereine.  Near Guy st.

 



 










 
 
I have hundreds of shots- if anything, too many- trying to capture the feel of the place. 

And you know what? 

I'm not really certain I can. 

The only thing that made any sense was to post a few pics of my wonderment.  Think 'Midnight Cowboy' crossed with 'Smoke' in Montreal, and you have an idea what I was trying to do. 

Yep...I admit...

I was overcome with the beauty of the location. 

There were almost tears. 


These are tough times for our brothers and sisters in other parts of the world...but right here and right now? 

The carnival that is Montreal...

this could well be just about the most beautiful time I have ever had.

Montreal is a great place. 

I feel at home here. 

I mean...

I still don't feel like I belong...any more than anywhere else...

but it's seems like a wonderful place to not belong.

& that's really all the unbelonging want.

This was a helluva' detour on my trip through Canada.

& frankly?

I'm not sure I ever want to leave...