The boy at the edge of the frame/A Night at the Opera

I've noticed that when I go to concerts or plays I tend to really notice the people in the background. What's the guy doing that I can see just beyond the curtain? What kind of expression is on the drummer's face, and what's he thinking? See the soundtrack musician? He keeps looking from the piano to the screen and back, trying to keep up with the action in the film. And I keep looking at him.
This is the page-turner:

I lucked into a free front row ticket to see Anna Bolena performed as a part of 'Opera in Concert'. Baby's first Opera.
I spent a good portion of the first half watching the page-turner. He wore black and was very still, and blended into the choir until he followed the music to the end of the page. At a nod from the pianist, already ready, he would reach up and quickly turn the page so that she could continue playing. She was the only musical accompaniment for the performance, and they worked as one to keep things moving.













I really enjoyed the performance. It was the story of Anne Boleyn sung in Italian with English subtitles. How did I get these pictures, at 2pm in a dark theatre surrounded by old people? Pure stealth.

Undead Undead Undead

We were still putting the finishing touches on our costumes when the 2007 Toronto Zombie Walk left Trinity Bellwoods park. I'd think I read too many online zombie makeup tutorials with advice like 'bury your clothes for a week to get an authentic earthy look and smell'.
We decided to catch up with the group along the route and tried to grab a taxi-me wearing a clerk's robe with a mouth full of blood and Tom with a dripping baby's head dangling from a coat hanger just out of his reach.

As we approached Dundas and Bathurst, we ran into a few spectators with cameras who started to photograph us. It was uncomfortable being the only Zombies on Dundas, and the focus of at least four photographers, and we left to try to find the mob.
They approached us along Bathurst, and we tucked into a doorway to look at some of the costumes before joining the walk. The costumes were incredible. We saw famous zombies, just married zombies, hippies, accident victims, and a group of zombies on wheels (one of whom managed to skate slowly, mimicking the Zombie shuffle).

There was moaning, screaming, people banging on windows and delighting streetcar riders with their antics and chants of 'What do we want?" to which we, of course responded "BRAINS!!"
What I wasn't prepared for was being constantly photographed. It made me uncomfortable, and I felt like it prevented me from enjoying myself as much as I could have. Sometimes I felt the pressure to perform, and other times I tried to hide in the group as soon as I saw a group of photographers. The entire route was lined with professional and amateur photographers taking pictures constantly, as well as zombies pausing to get their own record of the experience.

My favourite part of the day was after the group reached Bloor street, when the Zombies started to break off into groups to get falafel or espresso or Burger King.

I made a cheese

I conquered the dairy beast this evening, and made my own paneer. It wasn't very hard, just a little gross looking and slightly messy. I wouldn't recommend it if you have a problem with whhhey. I found a great link here
Good night, sweet cheese. Until tomorrow.

Cry, ugly, cry.

Saw this on craigslist today:
"We had coffee today, you were upset. We meet when you asked for a smoke. I still stand by what i said. Cant stand to see a beautiful woman cry.
Just wanted to know if you got home safely. Hope you see this. I was the guy in white"
This post is even more interesting than than the one that I saw earlier this week with the heading 'We f*cked in the fitting room at the Bay'.
Seeing a beautiful woman cry breaks his heart. What would seeing an average woman cry do to him? Or a frumpy, older woman? Is his compassion tied up in his attraction to her?
The man in white comes to the rescue, attempting to comfort the distraught woman with nicotine, caffeine and flattery.
Alternately, the man finds himself able to connect with the woman in a genuine way after coming upon her in a vulnerable state. They skip some steps in the normal progress of relationships and go directly to a place where an intense closeness is suddenly possible. Is he attracted to her appearance, the intensity of her emotion or her openness?
He feels something. I hope this moment helped them both in some way.

I'm supposed to.

Be getting a call from San Francisco.
I'm supposed to be on webcam with people at the Open Content Alliance meeting, where I'm supposed to be showing them how easy it is to get a book scanned on demand.
That's what I'm supposed to be doing. Not sitting at my desk at 9:30 playing online scrabble with a robot who's a poor sport.
If no one calls in five minutes I'm going to the grocery store.

A Mountain I have made

A mighty mound of delicousness so moving that I had to stop two bites in to take this photo. There was no way I was going to let this meal go undocumented. Not because of anything special that I did, but because of how happy I was to be eating something wonderful that I had made. All of the elements involved in the meal-the warm kitchen, the flavours, the time of day, the voices on the radio and my hunger came together and created a moment lovely enough to notice.
It's your turn to do the dishes.

Wyrd Visions

I snuck into the room as quietly as I could. I walked in after Wyrd Visions had begun his set in the Tiki Room at the Tranzac. I was pleased with myself. On a bill of three artists, he was the only one that I was interested in seeing, and I had the feeling that he would perform second-the meat substitute in the middle of the fringe-indie musical sandwich.
The gas fireplace was blazing, candles were lit, and the lights were out. Everyone was already seated in mismatched couches or on the floor. There was a dead space of about three feet between Colin Bergh and the nearest spectator. Was it left out of respect or shyness?
He gave me exactly what I wanted last night-a long set, with no pauses, which seemed to cover his entire album. I was looking for a mood...to feel like my ears were taking a long swim in a dark pond with mysterious, leafy depths. Mr. Bergh, at one point stifling a yawn, delivered.
(does he have a day job? I'm going to take a moment to enjoy imagining what else he might do.)
The lights went up and I looked around me.
I started to think about how I've been interested in many different types of artistic expression and group activity. I like making and listening to music, but I don't feel comfortable with many of the people who make or appreciate it. I enjoy looking at art, and crafting, but am uncomfortable with the art scene. I love reading, but feel like the world of writing and publishing is not one that I would fit into. I thought back to the shows I've been to where there is a wonderful moment when the music seems to be the only thing in the room, and fashion, age, style, location, weather and all nagging thought about anything other than that feeling melts away. I need to find a way to be present at more of these moments, and to make them happen more often myself.
I hung out with a kitten on my way home, and went to bed happy.
Wyrd Visions. 5 bucks, Tranzac, Monday October 15th