Advertisements

PEACE & QUIET

I had no porkpie hat. It was a baseball cap. There were no Piracucu boots. I was wearing skateboarding shoes. They were limited-edition, paying homage to A Tribe Called Quest. The shoelaces were emblazoned with the phrase “People’s Instinctive Travels and the Path of Rhythm.”

I started longboarding a few months ago. Usually, I’m weaving erratically down a side street, wearing a Montréal Canadiens shirt or hat, with an overcurious beagle racing behind me, off-leash in full violation of local ordinances. The blend manages to rub several different subsets of people the wrong way. It drives certain types batshit crazy.

Continue reading “PEACE & QUIET”

Advertisements

TWO SOLITUDES

My flight from Nashville to Toronto was 5 hours including a 90-minute layover in Atlanta.

I spent it reading the first half of Bob Cole’s autobiography, Now I’m Catching On.Cole has been broadcasting games for Hockey Night in Canada (HNIC) since 1972. HNIC is Monday Night Football north of the wall except it’s so much more than that. Football on Monday night is for drinking 2-for-1’s with the boys at the corner bar and doubling down with the local bookie to salvage Sunday’s disastrous wagers. Hockey on Saturday nights is about being a kid in your living room. It’s the one night when your parents let you stay up late enough to watch the game. The Canadian musician, Dave Bidini puts it well. “In a young country still establishing our rituals and traditions, our rites and passages, Hockey Night in Canada was among the first. Saturday night was ours.”

Continue reading “TWO SOLITUDES”

A PHILOSOPHICAL ENQUIRY INTO THE ORIGIN OF OUR IDEAS ON INERTIA AND THE PUCK-MOVING DEFENSEMAN

I recently moved to Nashville from Boston. One of my primary objectives has become landing a spot on Jack White’s beer league team, the Third Man Wreckers.

I played hockey all my life, growing up just south of Quebec in Vermont. I thought, in Tennessee, I would be something akin to a Bobby Fischer of washed-up hockey players. I’m not. I’m average at best. The talent pool of over-the-hill hockey players actually seems far better than in Boston.

Continue reading “A PHILOSOPHICAL ENQUIRY INTO THE ORIGIN OF OUR IDEAS ON INERTIA AND THE PUCK-MOVING DEFENSEMAN”

THE FRANKLIN THEATRE IS DECADENT AND DEPRAVED

I just moved to Tennessee. I’ve been living in Boston for the last ten years. I’ve been in New England my whole life. That means I’m saddled with the most objectionable of tasks: meeting new people.

One of the first people I met was Lindsey Vonn’s boyfriend. I’m terrible with names. That’s probably a horrible attribute in a writer. Someone said he plays hockey, so I’ve been frequenting the pick-up games at Centennial Sportsplex. He hasn’t shown. I’m getting the sense that he’s actively resisting my follow-ups. I’m not sure what went wrong.

Just about all my other networking has been accomplished through a Sherman’s March to the Sea of consumer credit destruction throughout downtown Nashville as well as short hit-and-run missions into the Gulch and East Nashville. Reviewing my credit card statements on the first of the month brought on a sense of dread.

Realizing, in actuality, that I compiled those numbers in fifteen (15) days invoked a sense of something akin to Shock & Awe.

I could probably use my refrigerator for storage at this juncture. If I didn’t need ice cubes for my whiskey (why is whiskey more expensive in Tennessee than New Hampshire?!), that appliance could be unplugged altogether.

I went into Design Within Reach in order to splurge on a nice desk chair. I left with an interior decorator on my hands. She’s been emailing me every day with ideas for how to spend my money. She recently escalated to handwritten notes. This lady talks to me more than my Significant Other. The last time I spoke with her, she said “We need art for our space.”

By “We” and “Our” she meant me and her, the interior decorator.

I went into Nordstrom’s last week just to kill some time. I left that establishment with an image consultant. She may be even more efficient at spending my money than the interior decorator [~$1k in under 45 minutes (I was totally just looking!)].

Continue reading “THE FRANKLIN THEATRE IS DECADENT AND DEPRAVED”

BEHIND ENEMY LINES

I’m sending out this dispatch from deep behind enemy lines. I live my life in Boston, Massachusetts. I know, I know. Every day, I knock heads with the worst of the worst: knuckleheaded Bruins fans. They come at me constantly, fade haircut after fade haircut. They all talk trash about the Habs in that same mind-numbing accent, the one that pretty much crosses the line into an all-out speech impediment.

I walk among them.

Continue reading “BEHIND ENEMY LINES”

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑