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.

An eventful morning.

I woke up (late, fuckity fuck), steamed some tofu and mushroom dumplings for lunch, and took off with my banjo to CBC. I think the interview and songs went well; I have my own criticisms of my performance (as usual) but I'm very pleased with the whole process. And yes, I did do an impression of Morty on the air. Good Lord.*

It occurred to me at the end of the CBC interview that I might have made it into today's version of Metro, and sure enough, there I was! I'm actually really proud of this article. I like the way it's written and I don't sound like a goof in the quotes. I sound like a Serious Musician (who may or may not grunt on live radio when asked).

Then I checked the Bitch website to find that they reach their target. Fricking awesome.

I've read a lot of comments about how if the magazine if having trouble, it's just not going to stand up to the big bad world of publishing. That's a good point, and worth discussing, BUT. A lot of small publishers/radio stations/businesses actively engage their audiences' support and have that to thank, year after year, for their survival. I donate to a small list of such places (like CKCU FM) and I'm proud to lend a hand if it means they get to keep doing what they do. In the case of Bitch, I think it's safe to say that writing about feminism isn't ever going to rake in the big bucks. Still, I think it's a publication that is worth having around, and I will gladly help out to show my appreciation.

So. My apartment is a mess. Like, it's gross messy. I've been trying to figure out why it gets messy so fast when I realized... We don't have a dryer, and because we are two adults with a drooly puppy, we do a fair amount of wash. This means a lot of drying racks, especially because it's been raining so much lately. These racks end up in every available corner, and they clutter up the house like you wouldn't believe. My project in the next few weeks will be to devise a plan to better organize my drying system.

I'm actually really excited to tackle this. Dorky? Yes. You would expect no less of me.

Last night I met one of my favourite poets ever. We have been communicating via e-mail for almost a year, but we didn't meet until now. She is every bit as charming as I imagined and I seriously debated getting her to sign my favourite poem of hers. Then we got distracted by wiggly Morty and crunchy tofu, so maybe I'll bug her about it next time... Thanks Erin B!

Speaking of wiggly Morty, I promise a picture update soon. I have some great shots of him looking like a depressed Jedi knight.


*It's also kind of exciting to see my (music) stats spike after going on the radio. Which reminds me... I should probably bring more CDs to Compact Music.