Me? I Like Paris In The Rain

The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for and I hate very much to leave it.

-Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls

 

I must admit: today wasn't the most brightest of days. First, there's the sinking acknowledgement that it's a Tuesday- a far cry from being a Friday. Secondly, as I was heading out of the office at the end of what seemed to be a Very Long Day, it began to rain.
Like the best of us, we don't think very highly of overcast weather, let alone being wet when it does pour. As raindrops began to fall, I reached into my bag and took out my umbrella. As I stepped out, I couldn't help but think about that scene in Midnight in Paris when Gil admits that Paris becomes a place to love all over again in the rain.
He does have a point- there's something about the rain that releases a sort of quiet bliss- this can be felt everywhere.
And remember: although April showers may come your way, they bring the flowers that bloom in May. Because Al Jolson told me so.

When it rains, I always find myself either listening or humming this wonderful song:

I adore Edith Piaf's version, but Louis Armstrong's take on La Vie En Rose is perfect for days like these.

Here's to always looking at life through rose-coloured glasses.

A Wink And A Smile

 Once I read a story about a butterfly in the subway, and today, I saw one! It got on at 42nd and off at 59th, where, I assume, it was going to Bloomingdales to buy a hat that will turn out to be a mistake, as almost all hats are.

- Kathleen Kelly, You've Got Mail

Happy long weekend everyone! It's the perfect time to create incredible memories among family and friends while at the same time, having the wonderful opportunity to unwind into the comforts of one's pleasures and small dreams reserved for hours like these.

It's a gorgeous Saturday evening. There's a spring in my step and a lightness in my heart.
Spring in Toronto is beautiful- the buds are appearing on the trees, the grass is green, and there's a flurry of activity taking place down at the Harbourfront. I hear the cherry blossoms in High Park are beginning to bloom, and I find myself getting into the old habit of stepping into one of  my favourite bookstores to pick out one or two (or five) books, picking up my favourite flowers, dropping by my usual cafe for tea, strolling down the Distillery District or the AGO... this simple routine I find,  is the cure for anything.

Listen:

Come warmer weather, I want to dance under the stars with this song playing in the background. Care to join?

Film:

I can tell you right now that I don't ever think I will ever appreciate the Romantic Comedies of this day and age. But by god, weren't they amazing in the '90s! I'm talking about One Fine Day, Sleepless in Seattle, While You Were Sleeping, When Harry Met Sally, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Notting Hill, My Best Friend's Wedding, and it goes on. One stands out in particular to me and I find myself going back to it time and again (I've probably watched it a few times and never has it lost its magic):

You've Got Mail, starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks:

It's got to be New York in the Fall, the constant presence of books and bookshops which fill up almost every scene:

"|The Shop Around the Corner" would have been paradise to eight year old me.

It's the reference to Pride and Prejudice, the ability to relate to Kathleen in some moments when it comes to being a hopeless romantic, how Joe and Kathleen look at each other as they deny the inevitable, the songs throughout the film which capture moments perfectly.
It's the Brownstone and its interior- I adored the decor  and how it houses a piano, a typewriter, and wall-to-wall bookshelves:

And yes, daisies are the friendliest flowers. Best of all, it's the way the film ended, on a warm sunny day like what we're about to experience in a month's time.

I always feel so good after I watch this film- like I can't wait to start a new day with the hope that things will be okay and that within the ordinary of everyday things, comes the unexpected.
It's crazy to think that someone you pass by on the street, or on the train, or in the coffee shop you drop by regularly, could possibly be the love your life, and you didn't know it. Here's to finding that wonderful person who will make you feel extraordinary.

Some Of Us Are Looking At The Stars

"Sooner or later, the lightning comes to us all."

-Gregory Maguire, A Lion Among Men

 

Spring has arrived. The world, once a frozen terrain of bare trees and whispered stories, has now unfurled from its long sleep to be alive once more. Days are now longer and with it comes nostalgia of long-forgotten memories, a smell of hope, and a stirring in our hearts.

Although this springtime weather has just begun, there's a yearning to start writing my Summer List ( I have made one every year since I was ten). There's just so many things I want to do, starting with the simple things like biking and kayaking around the Toronto Islands,  go on road trips like my friend and I did last year where we went from Toronto all the way to Montreal. I want to visit Stratford again. Believe me when I say this: Stratford  is a place of magic. I was wonderstruck through and through. One of my favourite Canadian painters, Janet Hill, has a studio there- it would be lovely if I get the chance to meet her in person- I'm smitten by her paintings.
I want to learn how to swing dance, have more champagne picnics, go on a hot air balloon, arrive halfway through my so-called novel, paint by the coast, visit bookshops in small towns, enjoy weekends at the cottage with friends, and so much more. Are you with me?

My Spring playlist is in full swing. There's lots of tunes from An Education soundtrack, Florence + The Machine (I can't wait to see her live in concert in August!!), Dustin O'Halloran, Sarah Jarosz, She & Him, Madeleine Peyroux, Jose Gonzalez, The Civil Wars, and the Midnight in Paris soundtrack.

One of my favourite scenes from one of my favourite films, The Brother's Bloom. I love these sort of films: they always make you think that life is much more charming and fantastic than we'll ever know.

"This was a story about a girl who could find infinite beauty in anything..."

Thoughts and Inspirations

It's not death that man should fear, but never beginning to live.
- Marcus Aurelius

Thoughts:

Recently, when I caught up with a friend whom I haven't seen a long while, it made me realize a couple of things:

People are in your life everyday. You see them as you walk down the street when you head into work. They're there when you step into your favourite bookstore, brush against your shoulders as you head down the stairs to take the train, or when you've gone to pick up a cup of coffee at the nearest cafe. Whatever it is that you're doing, there they are. But they are of no importance to you. Some aren't significant enough that you'd commit their faces to memory because after a second's encounter, you'll probably never see them again in a lifetime. They're mere shadows lurking in your presence.

And then there are the individuals whom you call acquaintances, colleagues, friends, family- they appear before you as colourful and lively. Some can fill up the entire room with their presence and speech. It's comforting in some ways.

Sometimes, the ones who move you the most are the ones we seem to lose touch of. Of course, life issues out unexpected events and we have to juggle whatever comes our way alongside our predictable routines so that by the end of the week, we pause and wonder where the time went.

Then invitation calls. It's sent by a familiar face, the one that brings you back to a carefree time and releases warmth by the very thought of them. You accept, knowing that there will be an afternoon or evening to look forward to in days ahead.


Upon meeting, the conversation picks up right where you started. There's no awkward pauses, only laughter. You bring up fond memories and they catch you up on books or shows they've seen. Through it all lies the strong current of being able to share the same passion and agreement on things we admire or enjoy. More laughter is shared and promises of greater things to come on both our fronts. Days seem more brighter, evenings more luminescent. 


I can remember whole summers,  weekends, and even evenings as of recent (one in which as we were visiting the museum, my friend and I actually had to sit down to talk about our love of "The IT Crowd"), where I've happily endured such instances. The people whom I share these priceless moments, I'm grateful to have them in my life. You will find that with age, you begin to grasp that such relationships are indispensable and must be cherished dearly.

Inspirations:

Watch: The Artist- Michel Hazanavicius

The Artist - Michel Hazanavicius from Joe LaMattina on Vimeo.

I was thrilled to see that The Artist won Best Picture at this year's Oscars. This sort of film which tips its hat to the golden age of silent films, is beautiful, brilliant, and magical.

Love:

 

When I see this, I think of summer, (which makes me yearn for summer even more- not helping considering the situation at the moment, seeing that Toronto weather is a bit drabby) and the thrill sitting out here with my favourite novel and listening to jazz playing in the background on the record player.

To read: 

"Up in this high air you breathed easily, drawing in a vital assurance and lightness of heart. In the highlands you woke up in the morning and thought: Here I am, where I ought to be."

For those of you who may or may not know, I have been taking part of  HarperCollins Canada's 50 Book Pledge. I'm close to reading ten, so I will be creating a post dedicated to a review of the ones I've read so far- from Albert Camus' "The Plague" to Paul Harding's "Tinkers".

Reads for the Nostalgic Romantic: The Valentine's Day Edition

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that come Valentine's Day, the nostalgic romantic must be in want of a pleasant read. There's nothing like sinking down in your favourite armchair with a glass of wine and a cozy read in your hands- much like Amanda with "Pride and Prejudice" in Lost in Austen.
As much as we love all things Austen, here are some titles to take a chance on which have been tried, tested and true by yours truly:

Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks: 

“There you are, sir. There's nothing more than to love and be loved.”

The Doctor and the Diva by Adrienne McDonnell:


"As she moved through more Handel and Mozart, to "Caro mio ben", her eyes glittered and skimmed across the audience. I always search for a face I can sing to, Erika had told Ravell. Tonight, he hoped that face would be his own."

Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson:


“You are a wise man, Major, and I will consider your advice with great care--and humility." He finished his tea and rose from the table to go to his room. "But I must ask you, do you really understand what it means to be in love with an unsuitable woman?" 
"My dear boy," said the Major. "Is there really any other kind?” 



The End of the Alphabet by C.S. Richardson:


“A man can see a hundred women, lust for a thousand more, but it is one scent that will open his eyes and turn him to love.” 



Possession by A.S. Byatt:


"We can be quiet together, and pretend - since it is only the beginning - that we have all the time in the world." 
"And every day we shall have less. And then none." 
"Would you rather, therefore, have had nothing at all?" 
"No. This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere.” 

Silk by Alessandro Baricco:


“Perhaps sometimes life shows you a side of itself which leaves you with nothing more to say.” 



So Bright and Delicate: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne:


“I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.” 


Happy reading!

I Cried To Dream Again

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,

Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.

Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments 

Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices 

That, if I then had waked after long sleep, 

Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, 

The clouds methought would open and show riches 

Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked, 

I cried to dream again. 

-William Shakespeare, The Tempest (III.ii.138-46)

From the Shore to the Sea

A new year, a new beginning. It's like I've finally reached the shore and now it's off to sea again, bound for another journey.

I will visit Europe sometime during the summer. I will to achieve my 50 book pledge. I probably will read more than fifty, being the bookworm that I am- and this time, I'll keep track of the titles I've read. I will paint on more canvases. I will strengthen my French and take up Icelandic. I will continue to write my novel. I will learn how to cook and bake more. I will take more chances. I will love more. I will live more. 

About that last remark: I had a conversation with a friend one evening in December at a pub. We were catching up and that soon led to the subject of what it means to us that we're arrived at the end of the year. There were things we looked back fondly, but there were regrets. We both felt that we were floating through life feeling a tad  numb and now we want to feel alive, to be awakened once more. This is something I will continue to hold close to my heart. I feel a stir of change coming on and I welcome this feeling with open arms.

I absolutely loved this film to the point that it's now a top ten in my books. It's films like these that make the world more luminous.


Perfect Sense: A chef and an epidemiologist falls in love as an epidemic begins to rob people of their sensory perceptions. 

Perfect Sense was beautiful, poetic, incredibly eye-opening and left me to wonder about all the things I thought of before the film, and the things I thought about after. Ewan McGregor and Eva Green were incredible in this film. To be honest, I love all of Eva Green's films. Each are a work of art.

The Ghost of Druadian Forest

Another one of my written pieces I wrote as of late. Enjoy!

The Ghost of Druadian Forest

I have walked in the wake of you for all these centuries

When you thought it was only your shadow.

Here, the moonlight sees to it that you would be safely home

As you walk among the night beasts.

Hear them stir and beat their ivory drums,

Watch the stars dance to its own refrain

Feel the brush of white butterflies against your arms

As you move silently in the maze of sleeping oak trees.

Can you feel the strands of my raven hair brush against your divine face?

You can thank the wind; it only wants to trigger long-forgotten dreams.

I am half-sick of listening to swan songs and caressing cold faces

Only the black owls are my true companions.

They whisper caution when I’m in the company of the living

But temptation always shrouds me with her fiery glow.

Deep into the forest I go,

Midnight strikes against the gleaming white walls

Where my huntsman lies forevermore.

It was he who found the roses for me, buried beneath the forest floor

Hidden among the cracked shells and smooth black stones.

For hours I lay still

Pressing my cheek against his stony face

As I call out his name.

Here dwell the masters of Triumph and Tragedy

Can't you hear their silent screams?

The beating of their heavy wings

Brush against my still worn heart.

Come morning, their battle cries are like ice melting into water

Which seep into my very bones

Releasing harder truths than I can bear.

For a spectre like me,

I'll never have a home to call my own

For this forest, like all good mothers

Hold lost souls (like me) together

Delivering me from evil.

Looking up, I see the moon appearing in the night sky.

I begin to feel my pace quickening.

Run.

Off I go again

In search of lost time.

Ode to Sherlock...and my Admittance to the Sherlockian School of Deduction

 There are those of you who may know me well enough to understand the delicate situation of the incredible maddening passion I undergo when it comes to my love of Sherlock Holmes. I thank my nine year old self for that.
 It all began when I was bored one day (as many of us nine year old selves would often find ourselves in) so I decided to hop over to the library near my house to see what sort of new releases they had in store in the children's section. Rather than take my pick on one of the Beatrix Potter stories,  my overwhelming curiosity let me to the adult fiction section. The shelves were much taller and the books seem so grand, so thick, and so different compared to the stuff they had for us kids. I wanted to touch all of their spines, to open each one of them and just...read. 
As I was absent-mindedly walking along the rows of shelves, one title stood out and I paused,
 The spine read: "The Adventures and Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes" by Arthur Conan Doyle. 
Right there and then, I had the overwhelming urge to take a few deep breaths ( I got easily excitable at the prospect of a great read. Times haven't changed.),  pull the book out of its cozy place, bring it with me to the nearest armchair, open it, and be amazed by what was in store. Which is exactly what I did. 

Since then, Sherlock Holmes has been my hero in every sense of the word. I'd like to think that this sort of admiration has blend into my lifestyle in some way or another. I have listened and loved all the scores made for Sherlock Holmes, not to mention watched everything that was adapted to television and film, read every story and read other books regarding Sherlock and/or the author. In short: have anything Sherlock? Will read/listen/watch/research.  One might say that I am a Sherlockian in its truest extent.

Furthermore, I knew that one way or another, us Sherlockians would be in for quite a big surprise. And a big surprise it was, when on a trip to the mailbox early this morning, I was greeted by a mysterious black envelope sealed with a gold crest which I then immediately tore it open on the spot, read it, ran back home going:  "Oh my god, oh my god, it's really happening, I KNEW it!!"- booked a ticket to London, and began to pack.

Once you've read this, you would understand my irrepressible urge to skip down the sidewalk, whopping with excitement, and hugging random strangers throughout the entire time:

SHERLOCKIAN SCHOOL OF DEDUCTION. 

Headmaster: 

Sherlock M. Holmes

(Consulting Detective, self-declared High Functioning Sociopath, Genius.)

Dear Sherlockian,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Sherlockian School of Deduction. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on November 1. We await your owl by no later than October 31.

Yours sincerely,

John H. Watson,

Deputy Headmaster. 

________________________________

SHERLOCKIAN SCHOOL OF DEDUCTION 

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Seven sets of woolly jumpers (preferably cable-knit)
2. One plain scarf (navy blue) for day wear.
3. One Milford coat (black)
4. One umbrella (black, wooden handle; family sized)
5. Two Westwood suits (black)
6. One lab coat (white)
7. One forensics sterilized suit (blue)
8. One “bobby” uniform (reflectant vest, checkered hat)

Please note that all pupil’s clothes should carry name tags.

Set Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following

• The Stories of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle
• The Science of Deduction by Sherlock Holmes
• Notions in Army Medicine by John Watson
• The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout (Also known as DI Lestrade’s writing alias)
• How to Run a Country While on a Diet by Mycroft Holmes
• Dealing with the Jerk you Love by Sally Donovan and Molly Hooper
• Psycopaths: The rules to spot and/or become one by Jim Moriarty and F. Anderson

Other Equipment

• 1 British Army Browning L9A1
• 1 Pocket spyglass
• 1 lab kit (vials of various sizes, chemicals capable of causing explosions combined)
• Jam and Milk supplies for the rest of the Year

Students may also bring a cat OR a fox OR a hegehog OR a bee OR a dinosaur OR a hammerhead shark.

Of course, when it comes the wardrobe part, I will be tweaking it a bit according to my suitability. I look forward to owning a British Army Browning L9A1. Don't look surprised- us Sherlockians secretly want to own one.
I was thinking of bringing my hammerhead shark- his name is Gladstone- but I don't think he could fit into my suitcase, the poor chap. My second choice would be a fox. I imagine I would name it Watson.




So if I unexpectedly vanish from my usual haunts in Toronto- you know where I am.




Joanne






(Note: This wonderful letter was inspired by disequilibrium- I took out the "Badassery" part because the Sherlockian School of Deduction is itself, already badass. It needs no further emphasis.)