“drowning myself is a game I play”

The more I blog the more I find myself trusting and confiding. It is a scary thing, to say the least. Like falling in love. Without thinking of the often inevitable fall out. It helps I know all the people I’ve shared the link to the thing with and don’t imagine myself coming up in many searches. Though the mention of those trendy ass Hunter boots seemed to attract some strangers.

Summer always makes me feel like listening to the punk rock of my youth. NOFX makes me feel ancient. Alkaline trio reminds me of all the breakups I’ve had to go through in past summers. I always start relationships in the fall and they end in the summer. Like school. Without all the learning.

My current anthem “This is Getting Over You” which is a song I took the title of this blog from. Inspirational, entertaining lyrics and the sheer force of the guitar work is enough to make one keep on and going strong in life.

Here I go defending emo again (I’ll never stop – I’ll be 80 and doing it too). What’s great bout real ’emo’ is the witty and emotive lyrics, the skilled vocals and delicious harmonies, and the energy in the often verging on poppy while still maintaining a solid integrity of heavy, guitars. Velocity! There really is a perfect balance of defeat and triumph. Positive and negative. It’s always apparent that new wave greats like The Cure, New Order and The Smiths have had a hand in forming this genre. It really is more complex than its given credit for. And it really inspires what I do in my writing too. Some sensuous licks with a bite thrown in for good measure. We live for that bite, which makes it crucial to all forms of art. Sunny Day Real Estate, Jawbox, Cursive, and some younger bands, really seem to have managed to master this effect in their catchy ‘punk rock’.

I’d like to think if I were a musician I’d figure this balance out and fulfill the ears of a bunch of jaded, depressed youth, and give them all the more reason to keep on trying, and something they could return to whenever life threw them a particularly hard curb ball to the head. Of which of course, there are to be plenty. It’s not that bite we live for that I mentioned before, but it is an unavoidable thing. And the more hits to the metaphorical head we take, the stronger the skull gets.

What I find interesting, to refer back to my post on getting older, is how some things change and some things just don’t. Though we’ve all come along way from being in junior high school and trying to make ourselves pass out for fun, wouldn’t it be fun to go to an oxygen bar? An Opium den?

And sure it’s embarrassing to like something like Alkaline Trio, Get up Kids and even one My Chemical Romance song, but it’s not like these are things I’d add to my regret pile, since they still move me up to 10 years later. Meaning they might still in another 10.

What does it all mean? I really don’t freakin know, but I thought I’d muse on it on this first day of real summer in Montreal. 33 degrees and I’m about to get a haircut. If I were a cat, you’d have to put me out.

why we love deep sea creatures

because we want to be like them.

they don’t require oxygen to live.

they don’t have to answer to anyone.

new ones are found everyday. we wish we could hide so well we’d only be discovered centuries from now.

they’ve adapted repeatedly and managed to live since prehistoric times.

they are neat looking and clever.

they are the aliens of the deep.

they live in the dark while we require light.

sci-fi movies have been inspired by them.

they are a mystery and definite answers are so boring.

tribute to oignons

Onions. Sauteed, look like slugs. Smell scrumptious. Are good on just about anything.

Onions are like people. the more layers you peel off, the more they stink. Yet there’s still nothing like a special onion (or person) to liven up your day, and make life seem somewhat okay.

My friend Nickie recently told me the french spelling changed, from oignons to our english onions. There was something endearing about that ‘g’ though. Oig-non.

With my picky 6-year-old-esque food-taste, it was only a few years ago that I warmed to onions. I used to push them to the side of my plate, where you’d never see them now. I put them in almost anything I make. In their absence, something seems missing. Onions liven up breakfast potatoes, scrambled eggs, stir-fried or oven-roasted veggies.

Garlic still remains a bit too bitey sometimes to me. Not surprising then that I am most fond of onion’s milder cousins: wild leek and garlic chives, regular ole chives and spring onions.

Here are two of my favourite onion-related things. I have my friends’ exquisite taste to thank for introducing them into my life.

Carmelized onions: A simple addition that makes almost anything instantly gourmet (my favourite recipes to add them to include butternut squash pizza and sweet potato burritos).

There are a variety of ways to make these delicious tender morsels, most of which involve cooking the onions at a higher heat until translucent, then dropping the heat real low and letting them cook as long as you like (a minimum of 20 minutes generally, and up to an hour). Some recipes call for the addition of brown sugar, others balsamic vinegar, sage, root beer or coke.

Onion confit: Whoever thought of making onions into jam was clearly a genius. This delicious condiment is amazing on any type of cheese served with crackers or baguette. Also a must atop brie, before baked.

the practicality associated with getting older

I’ve been surprised by the things one concedes to as one ‘grows up’ – empire waists, poofy coats, bright colours, naturally wavy (often frizzy hair), leggings as an accommodating alternative to tights (for bulging bellies), trendy things like skinny jeans tucked into ankle boots. There are pros and cons to this normaling out, which often occurs when one is too lazy to try harder. But it’s more than that. Tastes change. Personalities mature.

What is it that changes and when and for what benefit? I don’t have an answer for the first two questions, but do for the third: Practicality. An animal learning tricks to survive in the wild (even in that wild is urban Montreal). Being an animal, with an adjustable coat would be ideal, much easier than needing (or craving) new things each season. To satisfy our urge to ‘show’ when seasons change. Particularly from bulky winter attire to stream-lined spring garments.

I’m obsessed with weather and wanting to pretend one can prepare and predict. While this may sound positive, it can be quite a negative obsession. The weather really is unpredictable, especially in these days of rapid climate change.

However the prediction that this spring would be particularly rainy was an accurate one. It has been one of Montreal’s rainiest in years. And after spending most of late winter in disappointing new boots that let slush in, resulting in soggy, stinky feet, I found myself actually wanting the unthinkable. Rainboots.

My once alternative-self is sad to admit that the trendiest boots are also the nicest I found in my online travels. Stylish and simple, and like all trendy things, way too costly.

My personal favourites are the Hunter boots sported by many a ho in Montreal these days. They cost $150-200 and save for the shitty label on the front that makes them look like they came from Canadian tire, they are versatile, well-made and come in an array of classic colours and differing heights and finishes. My favourites are the grey ones, which no longer seem to be available from their site.

Here I refer you to my friend MaryAnne’s excellent post on Re-nest on rainboots: