Image: YouTube video screenshot photo of the band Queen, posing together for a photo.
Hey again. So, this week I nailed down my theme song for 2023.
At first, I was thinking more in terms of some kind of “fight” song, but I chose instead to go with something that felt more like resilience. Hope. Love.
Image: A close-up of sunflowers against a clear sky, with the word: THRIVE, in a paintbrush-like font, in the bottom right corner. Photo by ulleo on Pixabay.
Happy New Year! I hope 2023 has been good to you so far.
We’re well into the first week of January now, and I found my mind turning toward picking a word and theme song for this year. I’ll stick with my word for 2023 in this post, as I’m still mulling over the theme song—plus, that’s something for another post anyway.
My word to live by for this year is “thrive”.
A significant proportion of my adult life has been about survival, from my first years in Toronto as an art and theatre school student, then as an aspiring actor and part-time phone room supervisor, to more recently working as a reluctant freelancer after being laid off my full-time, permanent job. And, of course, navigating the pandemic, ridiculously high cost of living, disturbing local and world events, the dark hard right turns in society and on social media, yadda, yadda. I think it’s safe to say that, to varying degrees, most of us are exhausted.
This year, I want to focus on finding and creating conditions for thriving—personally, creatively and professionally. This will sometimes mean saying “Yes”, as well as saying “No”. This will mean being open to new and different possibilities and opportunities. This will mean looking at priorities from a different perspective (something many of us have been reminded about during the pandemic). And being especially mindful about not taking people or things for granted, and making time for daily expressions of gratitude.
Given the current public health and respiratory virus/illness climate, I thought this post, originally titled “People suck & also rock”, was worth a re-post.
Sadly, it’s pretty clear that we can’t count on political leaders to #BringBackMasks That doesn’t mean we can’t do it ourselves. Think about all the people we come into contact with daily. All those people come into contact with at least as many people, and so on, and so on. Some of those people are coming into contact with very young kids, the elderly, immunocompromised folks (some who aren’t able to get vaccinated). So, it’s not just about individual health/outcomes, it’s about everyone. Let’s #BringBackMasks ourselves & #GetVaccinated
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People suck. Not us, the others. (Yes, I stole that last bit from Ellen DeGeneres.) Allow me to explain. Get comfortable, this may take a little while.
I was very excited to win a 10-play pass for Toronto Fringe 2022 after filling out their survey in the Spring—especially as I’m now attending as a “civilian”, which means I have to pay for my pass again. Unfortunately, after my experience at my first show on the opening day of the festival, I decided to bail on Fringe this year.
One of the main reasons I’d chosen to attend was the audience mask mandate (see Toronto Fringe 2022 COVID-19 protocols). When I arrived at my first show, The Sorauren Book Club at Al Green Theatre, everyone was masked in the ticket holder line—but once seated inside the house, a whole bunch of people removed their masks. So, I made a difficult decision and exited before curtain time. I let the venue FOH and box office folks know about the situation. They were kind and understanding, and offered to issue a reminder—but we all knew that there was no guarantee that those audience members would comply for the duration of the performance once the lights went down.
In my heart, I wanted to believe that Fringe audiences would be respectful and mask up—and many did—but a significant number at that performance didn’t, and that’s troubling. It’s sad and disappointing that people would disrespect performers, fellow audience members, Fringe folks and the festival in this way. I appreciate how Toronto Fringe took great care to make arrangements so we could all have a safe and enjoyable festival experience. But it’s up to us to make safety measures work. And, yes, while I based my decision on a single experience, ongoing observations of mask mandate compliance tell me that there will always be folks who choose what’s easy and convenient over what’s right. And with mask mandates no longer applying in most public indoor places, there are those who just won’t bother, even if the space requires a mask—including medical offices! So, after leaving the Al Green without seeing the show, I contacted the festival box office and Patron Services Manager about my experience, and cancelled the remainder of my bookings. And then I reached out to folks who’d invited me to their shows, including Tricia Williams from The Sorauren Book Club (which did very well, including winning Patron’s Pick for Al Green), to send regrets. I was heartbroken.
Yeah, but it’s only Fringe. What’s the big deal? It wasn’t just about missing Fringe; it was what it represented. For many of us who live alone—some unable to join a “bubble” and already working from home—the prolonged periods of isolation, with lockdowns and limited contacts, have made for an excruciatingly long, lonely couple of years. The excitement and anticipation of summer festivals returning after an Omicron winter was cause for cautious optimism, and even celebration. And just as my own personal living room dance party was getting started, the music came to a vinyl-screeching halt as yet another variant brought yet another wave—and public health awareness and practices aren’t nearly as ubiquitous as they need to be. Like my GP said when we were discussing boosters during my checkup last week, “There’s a lot of COVID out there.” (As I have no risk factors, and unless public health officials recommend otherwise, I’ve decided to wait till the Fall to get a second booster, aka fourth shot.)
As I didn’t want to risk inadvertently hurting the festival, I chose to hold off on posting this till after Toronto Fringe closed. I recognize that my experience with this one performance may have been an infrequent situation for the entirety of the run, as well as the venue and festival overall. However, I chose to not take any chances, and not spend more time—including travelling on public transit for commutes of 10-60 minutes (one way), where many are unmasked—attending shows with the possibility of a similar outcome. This is not on Toronto Fringe. This is on those audience members who chose to ignore the festival’s mask mandate.
Performers need to be unmasked in order to do their job—and the very least audience members can do is put on a mask so they’ll be safe, and able to continue to entertain and inspire us. Not to mention consideration for fellow audience members, and venue staff and volunteers. Some folks don’t get, or care, that their “personal choices” can have negative—even serious—impacts on others, especially during a global pandemic. And even though spaces, including theatres, have different protocols—just because you don’t have to wear a mask doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t wear one.
Unfortunately, that lack of care and awareness has been exacerbated by government decisions to lift mask mandates, which many of us—including health care and education professionals and organizations—believe was a mistake, especially given the emergence of new, more contagious Omicron variants.
Masks are a good, simple way for us to take good care of ourselves, each other and the health care system. Yeah, they’re uncomfortable and take getting used to. Nobody wants to wear a mask (no disrespect to those who enjoy them—you do you). But they’re one of the best public health tools we have; and the vast majority of us don’t have a legitimate reason not to wear one. However, masks have been politicized by those who want to “get back to normal”. For them, masks are a reminder that all is not well, so removing mask mandates—taking away the predominance of masks—bolsters the illusion that COVID-19 is over and we’re all good to be “open for business” again. Such actions and beliefs are disheartening and dangerous, as they demonstrate greater consideration for corporate and political interests than for people’s health and well-being, especially the more vulnerable among us.
We each have our own levels of risk tolerance, and apply boundaries accordingly. And many of us are doing what we can to take good care, including making decisions about when to get a second booster (see opinion, info and a link to NACI guidance). We may be finished with COVID, but COVID isn’t finished with us.
Big shouts and gratitude to the Toronto Fringe FOH, box office staff and volunteers at Al Green Theatre, and the festival box office folks and Patron Services Manager Lucy McPhee, for their active listening and kindness; and to the audience members who kept their masks on—they’re the “helpers” we need to look for in situations like this.
And a big shout-out to stellar performing artist and fierce theatre etiquette proponent Patti LuPone, for saying what a lot of us are thinking. She’s my fucking hero and I wish I’d had the guts to show even an ounce of her chutzpah that day at Al Green. (Then again, maybe not—you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. And, yes, I stole that one from Dr. David Banner aka The Hulk.) Or better yet, that Ms. LuPone had been in the theatre with me. Put the fear of LuPone into them.
Thought this might be worth a re-post. I’ve seen a few of these already this holiday season…
Although holiday music, movies and television have been running since November, I like to wait till December 1 before diving into my holiday favourites.
Here, in no particular order, are my 10 favourite holiday movies (some are set during the holidays and not so much about the holidays).
A Christmas Carol (a.k.a. Scrooge – 1951 version)
TheBells of St. Mary’s
Elf
Love Actually
The Holiday
Last Holiday
Uncle Buck
Scrooged
It’s A Wonderful Life
Miracle on 34th Street (1947 version)
A Christmas Story (Bonus listing! Thanks to Mum and Dad for letting me know that I forgot this one.)
Wishing you and yours a safe and happy holiday season—and all good things for 2022!
Image: A perspectival view of a wooden footbridge crossing over a ravine at dusk, leaves scattered along the sides of the walkway, and flanked by trees in fall foliage and the glow of vintage street lamps.A few people and their dogs pause in their walks at the other end. Photo by the blogger.
Hey and howdy, all!
Recently realized that it’s been a while since I posted here—July, yikes!
Been working, writing (for work), walking and keeping up-to-date on my COVID-19 boosters and flu shot. Managed to score a ticket for the closing matinee of Crow’s Theatre’s production of Uncle Vanya and loved it.
These days, my main focus has been spending as much time as I can, safely, with close friends and family. Otherwise, I’m on the lookout for shows at theatres that have mask mandates (or at least select performances with mask mandates) and PWYC tickets. Budget’s been a bit tight lately due to a slow/delayed freelance project schedule earlier this fall; plus cost of living increases on groceries and cat supplies (especially for a senior cat with health issues), and the extra vet bills. I swear, every time I go to buy cat litter, it’s more expensive.
Things have been percolating once again on the cowbell blog front, and I’m cooking something up for the New Year. A bit of a return to the blog’s roots. No, not reviews—but something that I think you’ll enjoy.
Till then, stay safe, have fun and go careful out there.
People suck. Not us, the others. (Yes, I stole that last bit from Ellen DeGeneres.) Allow me to explain. Get comfortable, this may take a little while.
I was very excited to win a 10-play pass for Toronto Fringe 2022 after filling out their survey in the Spring—especially as I’m now attending as a “civilian”, which means I have to pay for my pass again. Unfortunately, after my experience at my first show on the opening day of the festival, I decided to bail on Fringe this year.
One of the main reasons I’d chosen to attend was the audience mask mandate (see Toronto Fringe 2022 COVID-19 protocols). When I arrived at my first show, The Sorauren Book Club at Al Green Theatre, everyone was masked in the ticket holder line—but once seated inside the house, a whole bunch of people removed their masks. So, I made a difficult decision and exited before curtain time. I let the venue FOH and box office folks know about the situation. They were kind and understanding, and offered to issue a reminder—but we all knew that there was no guarantee that those audience members would comply for the duration of the performance once the lights went down.
In my heart, I wanted to believe that Fringe audiences would be respectful and mask up—and many did—but a significant number at that performance didn’t, and that’s troubling. It’s sad and disappointing that people would disrespect performers, fellow audience members, Fringe folks and the festival in this way. I appreciate how Toronto Fringe took great care to make arrangements so we could all have a safe and enjoyable festival experience. But it’s up to us to make safety measures work. And, yes, while I based my decision on a single experience, ongoing observations of mask mandate compliance tell me that there will always be folks who choose what’s easy and convenient over what’s right. And with mask mandates no longer applying in most public indoor places, there are those who just won’t bother, even if the space requires a mask—including medical offices! So, after leaving the Al Green without seeing the show, I contacted the festival box office and Patron Services Manager about my experience, and cancelled the remainder of my bookings. And then I reached out to folks who’d invited me to their shows, including Tricia Williams from The Sorauren Book Club (which did very well, including winning Patron’s Pick for Al Green), to send regrets. I was heartbroken.
Yeah, but it’s only Fringe. What’s the big deal? It wasn’t just about missing Fringe; it was what it represented. For many of us who live alone—some unable to join a “bubble” and already working from home—the prolonged periods of isolation, with lockdowns and limited contacts, have made for an excruciatingly long, lonely couple of years. The excitement and anticipation of summer festivals returning after an Omicron winter was cause for cautious optimism, and even celebration. And just as my own personal living room dance party was getting started, the music came to a vinyl-screeching halt as yet another variant brought yet another wave—and public health awareness and practices aren’t nearly as ubiquitous as they need to be. Like my GP said when we were discussing boosters during my checkup last week, “There’s a lot of COVID out there.” (As I have no risk factors, and unless public health officials recommend otherwise, I’ve decided to wait till the Fall to get a second booster, aka fourth shot.)
As I didn’t want to risk inadvertently hurting the festival, I chose to hold off on posting this till after Toronto Fringe closed. I recognize that my experience with this one performance may have been an infrequent situation for the entirety of the run, as well as the venue and festival overall. However, I chose to not take any chances, and not spend more time—including travelling on public transit for commutes of 10-60 minutes (one way), where many are unmasked—attending shows with the possibility of a similar outcome. This is not on Toronto Fringe. This is on those audience members who chose to ignore the festival’s mask mandate.
Performers need to be unmasked in order to do their job—and the very least audience members can do is put on a mask so they’ll be safe, and able to continue to entertain and inspire us. Not to mention consideration for fellow audience members, and venue staff and volunteers. Some folks don’t get, or care, that their “personal choices” can have negative—even serious—impacts on others, especially during a global pandemic. And even though spaces, including theatres, have different protocols—just because you don’t have to wear a mask doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t wear one.
Unfortunately, that lack of care and awareness has been exacerbated by government decisions to lift mask mandates, which many of us—including health care and education professionals and organizations—believe was a mistake, especially given the emergence of new, more contagious Omicron variants.
Masks are a good, simple way for us to take good care of ourselves, each other and the health care system. Yeah, they’re uncomfortable and take getting used to. Nobody wants to wear a mask (no disrespect to those who enjoy them—you do you). But they’re one of the best public health tools we have; and the vast majority of us don’t have a legitimate reason not to wear one. However, masks have been politicized by those who want to “get back to normal”. For them, masks are a reminder that all is not well, so removing mask mandates—taking away the predominance of masks—bolsters the illusion that COVID-19 is over and we’re all good to be “open for business” again. Such actions and beliefs are disheartening and dangerous, as they demonstrate greater consideration for corporate and political interests than for people’s health and well-being, especially the more vulnerable among us.
We each have our own levels of risk tolerance, and apply boundaries accordingly. And many of us are doing what we can to take good care, including making decisions about when to get a second booster (see opinion, info and a link to NACI guidance). We may be finished with COVID, but COVID isn’t finished with us.
Big shouts and gratitude to the Toronto Fringe FOH, box office staff and volunteers at Al Green Theatre, and the festival box office folks and Patron Services Manager Lucy McPhee, for their active listening and kindness; and to the audience members who kept their masks on—they’re the “helpers” we need to look for in situations like this.
And a big shout-out to stellar performing artist and fierce theatre etiquette proponent Patti LuPone, for saying what a lot of us are thinking. She’s my fucking hero and I wish I’d had the guts to show even an ounce of her chutzpah that day at Al Green. (Then again, maybe not—you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. And, yes, I stole that one from Dr. David Banner aka The Hulk.) Or better yet, that Ms. LuPone had been in the theatre with me. Put the fear of LuPone into them.
Image: A tabby cat sleeps, curled up on a pair of blue jeans draped over a chair. Photo by Eu_eugen on Pixabay.
Every Thursday, I read my weekly horoscope in Rob Breszny’s Freewill Astrology column on the NOW Magazine website. While I’m not a hard-core believer in the portents disclosed therein, I find them entertaining, and often insightful and inspiring.
The post for the week of June 30 was particularly cool, and inspired a self-awareness and writing challenge:
Gemini May 21 — Jun 20
Imagine you’re not a person, but a medley of four magical ingredients. What would they be? A Gemini baker named Jasmine says, “ripe persimmons, green hills after a rain, a sparkling new Viking Black Glass Oven and a prize-winning show horse.” A Gemini social worker named Amarantha says she would be made of “Florence and the Machine’s song Sky Full Of Song, a grove of birch trees, a blue cashmere knee-length sweater and three black cats sleeping in the sun.” A Gemini delivery driver named Altoona says, “freshly harvested cannabis buds, a bird-loving wetlands at twilight, Rebecca Solnit’s book Hope In The Darkness, and the Haleakalā shield volcano in Maui.” And now, Gemini, what about you? Identify your medley of four magical ingredients. The time is right to re-imagine the poetry of YOU.
Rob Breszny, Freewill Astrology in NOW Magazine, June 30, 2022.
Here’s what I came up with:
A pair of well-loved blue jeans; a purring, contented cat curled up on a warm lap; the shared laughter of chosen family; and two fingers of single malt scotch.
Image: A pocket watch disintegrates against a cloudy pastel sky.
Hey all,
ICYMI, I’m pleased to announce that Wonder Jones Productions’ Fringe production of Time Limits Dropped on Easter Sunday, a digital original from Toronto playwright Erin Jones (and previously streamed during Toronto Fringe and Calgary Fringe 2021), will be featured (online) as part of the Hamilton Fringe Festival from July 20 – 31, 2022. Book tickets here.
Synopsis: Four friends from a bereavement group meet virtually for the Easter long weekend. They decide to try an Artificial Intelligence program to animate pictures of their loved ones. To their surprise, delight and horror, they discover more than they bargained for. The experience brings an opportunity to say the things they wanted to say if they had one more chance. This sci-fi thriller with a touch of drama and comedy asked the question: What would you say if you had one more chance?
If you’d like to find out more and get to know the cast, and find out where to follow us, please visit the production website. Follow us and get updates!
The cast and crew (including yours truly) worked creatively and steadily to create this piece with love while maintaining the health and safety of one another. We’re looking forward to seeing Time Limits Dropped on Easter Sunday available online during the Hamilton Fringe Festival and invite you to join us!
I love seeing little free libraries in various neighbourhoods across the city. They provide a great, environmentally friendly opportunity to freecycle books you no longer want/need and maybe even discover some literary gems to take home. And when book shops and libraries were closed during lockdowns, they were an especially great resource—especially for those struggling financially, both during the pandemic and in general.
Some of these mini-library structures are built quite simply, and others are works of art. And, best of all, you can search for/find them in Google Maps. Here are some snaps I’ve taken of some little free libraries I’ve come across , including one that also has a community pantry built next to it.
Slideshow images: A series of little library images; most have front door panels with glass windows. One resembles an old schoolhouse, with a bell tower on top. One has artificial grass on top. One has been adorned with wooden frame and decorative embellishments. One has shingles on the roof and a tree of life on the side. One has wooden shingles and an open front. One is decorated with an abstract evergreen tree, made from wood; it has a little community pantry beside it, painted in various colours that are separated by diagonal white lines. One looks like a cottage from a fairy tale, a crest-like design above the door.
Image: The cover of Heidi Von Palleske’s They Don’t Run Red Trains Anymore. A painting of a woman in an evening gown, who appears to be clawing her own eyes out, a trickle of blood streaming down her right cheek. Ancient architecture in the background, with light and shadow playing across the interior space. Painting by John Nobrega.
Heidi von Palleske conjures up images of love and desire, inspiration and frustration, life and death in her evocative, intimate and intriguing novel They Don’t Run Red Trains Anymore.
Set in 1980s Toronto, sculptor Alex navigates life after art school as she tries to make a name for herself—and leave a legacy—as an artist, paying the bills with a day job carving headstones alongside friend/former classmate Jack. Her life driven by intense artistic focus, beauty and passion, Alex yearns for the approval of mentor/former teacher and gallery owner Boris, who believes the only relevant art is that which is overtly political; and fascination turns to obsession when she meets model Premika, who longs for immortality—and becomes Alex’s muse and the inspiration for her most important project to date. All of the senses are aroused in this erotic and philosophical journey of life and art.