I was going to write a review of The Galindez File, but first I’m going to complain about the strike. I’m not complaining about the strike itself – although I have some criticisms about how it’s going to play out for CUPE 416 – but about people’s reactions. It’s only the first day today and the major problem is garbage collection. Except on the first day the problem shouldn’t be garbage collection. Garbage collection shouldn’t be a problem for another week. Residents of Toronto knew that a strike was likely a week ago, and even if the strike weren’t on, garbage would not be collected today anyways. I don’t understand how residents are already visiting trash collection sites (in front of which workers are picketing) to yell at picketing workers with tons of trash to dispose of. How can you generate that much trash over the course of a single weekend?! Geeze. How can you already be angry that you have too much trash stinking up your household?! It’s because you’ve generated so much garbage!
So yea… much more sympathetic to the parents whose kids are out of day care than with massive generators of garbage. It’s such garbage. I hope the city fines all the people dumping illegally.
Filed under: Current events, Travels | Tags: Farine Five Roses, High Speed Rail Canada, Monte Paulsen, Montreal, Off the Rails, Redpath Sugar, Seat 61, The Walrus, Toronto, Turbo, Union Station, VIA Rail
I pulled into Montreal by train this evening for the last time of my undergraduate residence in this city. For the last time of these four years, I passed the neon Farine Five Roses sign which you can see if you sit on the right-hand side of the train. It looks most brilliant at night.
It was one of the first markers I noticed in the Montreal skyline when I began to take VIA’s Montreal/Toronto trains. There was also Redpath Sugar at both destinations, connecting the two industrial cities of early 20th century (Upper and Lower) Canada, but I haven’t been able to spot it my last few trips (or maybe I just didn’t notice). I’m going to miss it. I’m going to miss the sites and sights in between Montreal and Toronto. I’m going to miss having coffee with my mom at Union Station where the baristas at Second Cup always scald the milk. I’m going to miss dozing and catching up on films without the distraction of the internet. I’m going to miss meeting random people like that woman who asked me what my menstrual cycle was like less than five minutes into conversation, or most recently that really cool YA writer (hi!) whose work I still have to check out. I’m going to miss train operators who depart late but manage to make it on time anyays (I have better experience than some friends who always complain, maybe they just like me better). I’m going to miss Redpath Sugar and Farine Five Roses.
♥ trains
There’s a great article in the Walrus this month by Monte Paulsen on rail progress (and subsequently, regression) in Canada, with particular interest in the Edmonton-Calgary and Toronto-Montreal (a.k.a. the Quebec-Windsor Corridor) routes. (more…)
I’ve been at home the past 10ish days (which I’ll post for real about later, like when I’m not at home), where I have a couch, in front of a television. Of course, this means I fall asleep on the couch in front of the television almost daily, especially if I’m home in the afternoon. It’s awesome. On top of awesome, I’m noticing again that thing that happens to your neck when you fall asleep on your couch that isn’t a proper bed with proper pillows. It’s not quite sore, but you can definitely feel it.
So anyways, my head is definitely better suited tilted slightly to the right. I noticed this again in my sleeping positions and I know that it often crosses my mind when I hit the pillows trying to get to bed at night, on proper beds with proper pillows that aren’t my living room couch. I figured: hey, it’s probably because I’ve been sleeping in mostly one position lately or something. But just now, awake, I tilted my head and remembered a random memory in junior high sitting to the right of a boy I liked with my head tilted slightly right and worrying that he’d think I was trying to sit away from him because of my posture. It’s mostly silly, except that I’ve had off balance awake-and-asleep posture for like… a decade now!
Weird, but of little note… unless you’re a hypochondriac… or something. It’s late (except that it really isn’t).
Filed under: Current events, Tangents | Tags: Alfonso Cuarón, A Little Princess, Patrick Doyle, Manuel Vázquez Montalbán, Blindness, Jose Saramago, Migration studies, El misterio Galíndez, Gerardo Herrero, Galíndez, Jesús de Galíndez, Rafael Trujillo, Dominican Republic, Junot Díaz, Dominican-American, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, area studies, diasporic studies, immigration studies, diasporic literature, Concordia University Bookstore, Julia Alvarez, How the García Girls Lost Their Accents, Philippe Lioret, Welcome
I am reading a book of fiction for no one but myself that I sincerely and realistically expect to finish, for the first time in way more than a year. I was reading Blindness last summer, by José Saramago, in anticipation of its film adaptation. I had started it just before the antecedent Christmas (does that sound awkward) and had made it more halfway through. Halfway through was horrific though, and I couldn’t actually get any further. I ended up lending it to Tony – who finished it – and hearing moderate spoilers from him in the end. I never watched the movie either. In fall semester, I read several whole and partial translations from late 19th and 20th century Chinese lit (finishing with scar literature), and while I enjoyed a good deal of it, as coursework it cannot be considered reading for me and me alone.
Everything finds its way. And weirdly, a lot of it has to do with A Little Princess.
A Little Princess (1995, dir. Alfonso Cuarón) → Patrick Doyle → El misterio Galíndez (2003, dir. Gerardo Herrero) → Galíndez (1991, by Manuel Vázquez Montalbán) → Jesús de Galíndez (1915-1956?) → (more…)
The only true all-nighter these past four years, but for no reason at all: not for school, not a chatty sleepover, nada. I’m so tired and I’ll wear it on my face all day probably. I climbed into bed a quarter to midnight exhausted but I’d consumed caffeine a couple hours earlier. No problem, I should’ve been fine by one or two, but by half past three I’d given up. I updated my Cuaron blog and hoped that the ounce of productivity would help me sleep, but no such luck. I ended up chatting with Gary until four. He’s employed this summer. Je lui envie, if that makes sense. I got into bed after that,
but now the sun is out and I can see the reflection of orange and pink in the windows in the apartment building my bedroom faces. I kind of give up now. I don’t know when I can catch some shut eye without messing up my sleep schedule for the rest of the week. Gary said thoughts were keeping him up. I guess it was the same for me; thinking of how I’d be able to keep in touch with my fauvourite professors who I will rely on for references in grad school apps but wishing I could visit to say hi without asking for favours.
I find that news readers have trouble pronouncing “swine flu.” I think it’s the combination of double consonnants. Peutetre. Have a nice day.
