Hella Stella

Yesterday was a strange sort of day.

I thought a lot about my grandfathers, both of whom fought in WW2. I wondered what it was like for my Zeidi, who was Jewish, to be fighting that kind of enemy. I thought a lot about war, and how although I am as anti-war as they come, I still think a lot about the sacrifices people made so the next generation would have some sort of freedom.

I wondered about the wars that are being fought today. Didn't they have the war to end all wars? I wish that had been true, but it seems no matter how many Remembrance Days we have, our collective memory is short. I thought, and I thought, and I thought. And then I kind of wished I had gone down to the Cenotaph after all. Especially when I heard the children's choir on the radio, and sang along with all the harmonies.

But instead I had a quiet day. I went to an antique store in Hintonburg, just because I wanted to look around. They had an old trumpet that caught my eye, but I'm not ready to tackle a new instrument yet. I baked cookies and ate more of the dough than I care to admit here. Morty and I took a long nap, and I noticed that he has taken to howling and barking in his sleep. Not the most restful sleep I've ever had, especially when he kicked me in the face. Maybe he was dreaming of kung fu. Later, I went to the Green Door with my folks and my Bubbi. A nice time all around. I really enjoyed their eggplant salad, as well as everything else, of course.

When I was walking Morty this morning, we bumped into Michael of New France fame. "I saw you in the paper this morning!" he said. I wracked my brain... Why would I be in the paper? I don't have any shows coming up. I'm not doing anything particularly exciting. Then I remembered being interviewed for an article in the Citizen a good six months ago. They were doing a piece about musicians who have day jobs. It never went to print, even though they did a full photo shoot. Could that be it?

I've since gotten my hands on it, and sure enough, it's the six-month old interview and photo. I'm in my old house with an old haircut, but I like the article. If you happen to get that newspaper, I'm in the arts section holding a banjo.

Oooh, Shawna just sent me an e-mail about it. She pretty much sums up my thoughts: "How many times now has a newspaper marvelled at you because you're an indie artist with a day job? ... They think it's a rarity!"

That a great point - my situation isn't rare at all. I'm unsigned and broke, musically. But even the signed artists I know are broke, musically. We don't do music because we expect to make money. We do it because, well, we're musicians.* (That being said, it sure would be a nice perk to make money from my music.... I wish!)

And SCENE.

*There are many exceptions of course... Lots of people do music for real money. Pop stars, faux indie rockers, musicians who tour like maniacs to make ends meet, people in cover bands, music teachers, orchestral players... Okay. I'm in the minority.