Paris, Je T'Aime

This morning I realized that a month from now I will be in Paris once again. Wonderful, wonderful Paris. It feels almost too good to be true, like if I think about it too much I can't catch my breath; I'm light-headed and giddy. Yes, I love Paris that much.

On Sunday I rewatched Paris, Je T'Aime, which is this lovely movie filled with shorts - directed by a crazy range directors - where each one is an ode to a different section of the city: the Latin Quarter, Montmartre, Tuilleries, etc. The tone, story, and even cinematography changes so drastically from episode to episode that it's impossible to not watch it with rapt attention. It probably helps that half my heart lives in that city, in that I literally feel a pull in my chest cavity when I think about being there (and when I'm in Paris, I feel that way about Altona).  Although the stereotypical image of Paris is love, Paris is my favourite place in the world to be alone, solitary, a passive observer in this vast and overwhelming sea of people and history and art. Yet passive is not quite the right word: though I may not be interacting with the people of Paris, I am certainly interacting with the city itself. It is a living, breathing organism, telling me its story, and in how I live within it, I am telling it my story as well. The final episode of the movie shows an American woman touring Paris, and she comes to the conclusion that not only has she fallen in love with Paris, but that Paris has fallen in love with her, too. She, like myself, becomes one of Paris's many mistresses. Paris, je t'aime.

Shad @ the Pyramid

So on Friday night Julia and I, among others, went to see Shad as part of Jazz Fest. I first fell in love with rap when I worked at Camp Assiniboia, and we would listen to Jay-Z and Danger Mouse in the staff office. I felt so bad-ass doing that, and it certainly was quite the jump from the Backstreet Boys. Although my love for Jay-Z has never died, I have both expanded and honed my tastes (can you do both of those at once, or do they contradict each other?), and now my love of rap has much more to do with awesome wordplay and wit than the angry feelings that I once embraced. As an English teacher, watching Shad rap was almost life-changing. One of my favourite devices to teach and use within poetry is Allusion, and his mastery of allusion was overwhelming. While listening to most music may be about feelings and maybe even physiological responses (especially as I'm singing along so blissfully to Neko Case), listening to good rap makes me want to be able to press pause, rewind a bit, and hear those words again, just to make sure I really caught it all. Unfortunately, while people sing bad music (Nickelback, country music, etc.) so slowly - yet less deliberately than in rap, I think - so you have to hear every awkward lyric, rap lyrics fly past you at an impossible speed. The allusions then exist not only to show one's ability to make connections and be witty, but also as a call out to the audience, saying, "Here's something you can recognize," and we all cheer. And cheer we definitely did! My ears were ringing as I fell asleep.

Blogging for Beginners

Welcome to my blog!
I spend most of my time / most of my life taking in texts. I read, watch, listen, and read some more. Although I am constantly reflecting internally, I spend little time reflecting outwardly, unless I am doing it in my classroom. So, I've decided to be more deliberate in my responses to my journey of textual - and thus life - exploration. Stay tuned...