sentimental nostalgia

The weather is weird,

damp,

hot,

looks like rain,

but,

it doesn’t come,

strange,

and,

well,

frustrating.

Customers?

Not too many,

of those,

today,

or,

yesterday in fact,

oh well,

it should pick up,

tommorrow,

or Friday,

right??

šŸ™‚

I had a chance to finish,

my Helene Hanff,

it was fun,

like visiting,

New York,

in the seventies,

with someone who lives there,

and,

loves her city deeply,

these are the hard,

New York years,

of near brankruptcy,

and ‘Death Wish’* like,

violence

some parts,

areĀ disconcerting,

as when she writes about,

the World Trade Towers,

Hanff,

wasn’t a fan,

she wasn’t the only one,

likeĀ all gigantic building projects,

The World Trade Towers,

had their critics,

and,

when you consider,

what happened,

the unthinkable,

the day the world went mad,

yeah,

disturbing.

So, yesterday,

was my birthday,

it was ok.

I got a really cool present,

a five cd set,

a sort of retrospective,

of Quebecois music,

from 1936-2011,

which corresponds,

to the time,

seventy-five years,

that Radio-Canada,

the French arm of the CBC,

has been on the airwaves.

It’s amazing to hear,

some of these songs,

the ones,

my Grandparents,

met and married to,

the ones my parents,

peace and loved to,

the ones that nursed,

my childhood,

myĀ early years.

Some long cherished,

some long snickered at,

and,

yet,

the nostalgia,

of sitting,

in my grandmother’s kitchen,

always the kitchen,

listening to,

our national,

nationalistic,

poets,

and,

our silly pop music,

pop music is always silly,

nothing wrong with silly.

Songs that speak to my roots,

to the life of my people,

to the lives of my family,

some of them,

these songs,

about our history,

about our land,

remind me how,

profoundly,

Quebecois I feel,

I am,

the pride in those,

who came before me,

and,

how much I miss them.

Birthdays make me,

setimental,

and,

nostalgic.

Later girls,

BB

***Death Wish is a Charles Bronson movie from the seventies, a man becomes a vigilante after the muder of his wife and rape of his daughter, and cleans up New York, or part of it anyway, horribly violent, expressed the climate of New York in those hard violent days**

 

 

 

On travel ??

What a glorious morning it is,

sunny, cool, blue blue sky.

I’m at home,

Thursday morning,

mom’s in charge,

at the bookstore.

I’ve had breakfast,

Great grains cereal with extra raisins and soy milk, I’m so middle aged- the Dude looks hopefully at the bowl and when I let him have the dregsĀ , he looks at me, disappointed, puzzled and, I think, a little grossed out. He doesn’t speak human, but, if he did, I’m pretty sure he’s be saying “you like this shit?”- In point of fact- I do, a Franciscan monk breakfast, for the twenty-first century:-)

It’s my birthday next week,

I’ll be forty-seven,

and,

three days later,

I’m getting my,

buzz cut for Cancer:-)

Should be an interesting week,

if you factor in the fact,

that mom has picked that week,

to have the kitchen painted,

busy, busy, bald:-)

I got my new John Irving,

yesterday,

hot of the press.

I ordered something else,

in order to avoid,

the shipping charges,

a Helene Hanff book

(she of 84 Charing Cross Road fame)

it’s called,

Apple Of My Eye,

all about Helene’s New York,

a sort of a guide book,

it’s delightful,

as all her books are,

feel like you are right there with her,

sharing a Martini and a cigarette,

nice.

The thing is,

I don’t travel,

never have,

it’s not in my,

temperament,

not part of my lifestyle,

I have no objections,

per se,

I just don’t.

Many people think that’s,

close minded?

reductive?

lacking an adventurous spirit?

all this might be true,

I don’t think it is,

but still,

what do I know?

šŸ™‚

I know,

that I like to travel in books,

with interesting people,

I used to like,

historical novels,

read tons of them,

not so much anymore.

Now, I like my fiction,

and,

memoirs,

not biography so much,

as,

memoir,

slices of lives,

traveling to New York,

with Helene,

watching Paris from my window,

with Colette,

and her cats,

having and raising a baby,

in France,

with Adam Gopnik,

drinks with Janet and Hem,

walking through the 1930’s garden at Sissinghurst,

with Vita and Virginia,

that’s what I like.

But,

since I now eat my cereal,

with soy milk,

maybe,

I’ll experience Shakespeare and Company,

for myself,

live,

with the sights and sounds.

If I can have my head shaved,

change my eating habits,

maybe I can learn to travel,

maybe,

you can teach a middle aged butch,

new tricks

WinK!!!

Later girls,

BB