Battle Hymn of the Apartment (2)

As I move into my 21st home, I take a brief moment to look back at the places I've lived.

Parthenais- This was one of the worst years of my life so not a lot of funny stories here. I was living alone again and barely keeping it together until I was no longer keeping it together at all. I can remember one incident (actually it's really foggy so bear with me) that was odd, a little sad but I'd say ultimately amusing.

Around late morning or early afternoon on what seems like it was a Sunday, there was a knock on my door. Unexpected knocks are rarely a good thing. I opened the door to a girl who may have been crying but at the very least looked quite distressed. And I say a girl but she was older than me (I was 21). I'd say she was near thirty but not over and looked very Plateau, French, semi-artsy with dark brown hair, a slim build. She was good looking without being exceptional in any way.

She asked to use my phone. It was an emergency. I can't remember what was wrong with her phone. She may have moved in recently and hadn't had her phone connected yet. Not wanting to get involved in the emergency any more than I needed to, I asked no questions and let her in to use the phone. My phone was only a few feet from the door so she stepped in and dialed 911.

She said there's an emergency. Please send an ambulance. Yes. Yes. No. My dog has been electrocuted and is having a seizure. What ?! What do you mean? You won't help a dog?! Just because he's not human you're going to let him die?!?!?! She hung up. She unnecessarily explained the situation to me and said her boyfriend was with the dog now but he didn't know what to do either. She walked out the door and sat on the stairs just outside my apartment and wept. I stood in the doorway looking at her.

I couldn't imagine what skills I had that would make it useful for me to go up to her place and try to resuscitate the dog. There wasn't much I could add. I thought about consoling her but I really doubted that I could do so convincingly. I've never been good at overcoming half-heartedness. I've always felt that people can smell when I'm being insincere and will be insulted while I will just feel shame. Bad all around. So I don't bother. She was fully engrossed in her weeping and didn't even look up. I started to be a little annoyed that ,at a time in my life where the slightest emotional breeze would lay me out flat on my back, I had been dragged into this drama. I closed the door.

A week or so after she came to apologize. Her dog had survived. Apparently it was epileptic. She invited me to eat brunch at her place with her and her boyfriend. I was unable to refuse free food so I went. It was uncomfortable. We ate waffles. I never spoke to them again.

* Brief Interlude*-  I spent two or three months back at my parents' house in Jonquiere. Nothing at all that I care to remember about that time. What would be the point of all the suppression,then? Oh, Habs won the cup!! Lots of beer at Chez Max with Anna and some strange girl. WoooooHoooooo!

Park and Bernard- Back in the city. I decided to live with Andrew and I guess at that time we had known each other through Pat for  three years or more. I wouldn't say we were close friends at the time but we shared friends, sense of humour, and taste in music.

Andrew said that he found an apartment on Park (so far west!!) and Bernard (so far north!!). Near the Rialto he said. I was very skeptical but I knew his girlfriend lived around there so I went along to take a look. The place wasn't bad and it was cheap. It was a strange layout. I swear a third of the area was closets. The place would have been a fair size if you knocked out two or three of the huge, useless closets.

After seeing the apartment we headed out for a bite to eat.We stopped into Zorba's. The walls were covered with dark, thick, porous wood that looked like it had been soaked in oil. It was hard to tell whether The wood walls were the the source or receptacle of the overwhelming scent. It was a pungent mix of slowly roasted, marinated lamb, garlic, onion, warm pita, and cement thick yogurt. The hefty twin waitresses sat at a back table with various friends and/or family members and while they didn't outright welcome you, they made you feel like you could share their space for a while. The curly haired, moustache sporting cook behind the counter always had a smile that seemed to be there because he knew what you were about to experience. I had eaten a fast food souvlaki before. One filled with over cooked chunks of chicken swimming in watery sauce that fell somewhere between thousand island dressing and garlicky mayonnaise. But this was not that.

It had everything your mouth could want: savoury meat, creaminess, tomato, crispy but soft warm roasted pita, thick biting onions... I was speechless. We headed back on our way and I still couldn't quite believe what had just happened in my mouth. We called the landlord and told him we'd be taking the place. Welcome to Mile End.

Park and St.Viateur- This was my first experiment in living with a girlfriend. Melainie and I had been together maybe two years (?) and seeing as we just lived down the street from each other and saw each other everyday, we thought(I thought) we might as well move in together. I took my friend Matt's place in Melanie's apartment at the corner of St.Viateur and Park. Matt and Andrew moved in together in a slightly weird apartment on the first floor, below us.

I mostly remember music when I think of the year spent here. I became aware of a lot of my favorite bands at that time: GBV, Wedding Present, Archers of Loaf, Magnetic Fields and more. But also, it was one of the most productive song writing and recording years of my life. My band, Trevor, had reformed with a new bass player , Flo, (are you happy now?) and a whole new batch of songs that I'm still quite fond of. I started a new band before Trevor were fully back in business, called the Motorboats and we played a successful debut concert.

I had gotten an old Fostex four track from Matt and it was the simplest four track machine I had ever used. Switch it on and go. I recorded hours of electronic instrumentals, experimenting with synths and beats through various broken speakers and cheap pedals. One amp in particular had a punctured speaker and moved around inside the cabinet. If I turned the base up to ten and played a beat on my Radio Shack synth the bass drum was so percussive you could feel the room shake with each thud. The hours spent with headphones on, absorbed in a recording, not being able to stop until it was done, not eating, sometimes staying up so late that I would skip classes, were some of the happiest times in my life. 

I had a cheap tape recorder and a dollar store tape that I would switch on and record myself just playing and singing anything that came to mind. I must have filled a few ninety minute tapes like this. I would often pick up the guitar, press record and without thinking and play the first thing that my hands felt like playing. I wrote most of my favorite songs this way. Some of these songs, in particular The Motorboats songs, got the full live recording treatment downstairs in Andrew and Matt's magic kitchen studio. Something about that kitchen made everything ring and echo. Everything sounded bright and deep with a strange melancholy tinge to it. That might just be me though. Whatever... anyone who has experienced recording in the magic kitchen can attest to it's powers.

Before the year was up Melanie moved out.

St. Urbain and St.Viateur - I came back from working a summer at a camp in New York state and moved in with my university classmate, Jonathan, and his brother. I think I spent two years here and the last few months, as Jonathan had gotten married, I had a replacement roommate. She was a cute eighteen year old whose name I honestly can't remember. Strange bit of trivia for you.

A million things happened while I was living here and narrowing it down has been hard. I did my last year of Painting and Drawing at Concordia while living here and it was a very productive time artistically. But that's boring. My cat died here. But that's too sad. I was robbed. But that's nothing special. I started to date a girl called Catherine. But more on that later.

The woman who lived downstairs was a kind Portuguese lady. She had an impressive garden in the back yard and it was definitely the best view I had ever had from the back of an apartment. She had zucchinis growing on those structures that they build so the vines can stretch out and stay off the ground. Zucchinis were everywhere! One vine even crept it's way onto my balcony up on the second floor. She told me I could eat any zucchinis that grew on my balcony and I think I ended up with two or three. I believe I cooked them intoå a tomato basil sauce. The best zucchinis I have ever eaten. Like candy! Usually they are pretty bland and just soak up the flavours they are surrounded by, but these were the center of attention. Delicious!

Oh, and the living room had ceramic tiles on the floor. The design on the tiles looked a lot like a vagina.