Am I the only one?

Oh, one, touching one, reaching out
Touching me, touching you
Oh, sweet Caroline
Good times never seem so good
Oh I've been inclined to believe it never would
- Neil Diamond, Sweet Caroline (1969)

Am I the only person who finds it disturbing that Neil Diamond wrote Sweet Caroline for Caroline Kennedy when she was eleven and he was twenty-eight? Check out the interview. But I digress ...

Rachel ** (somewhat weirded out)

This is the end, my only friend the end

Gentlemen and ladies are earnestly advised that new partners rarely wish to hear about old flames. Anything like bragging or wallowing should not be indulged in ...
-- Nerve's Guide to Sex Etiquette, for ladies and gentlemen

I am exhausted after a full week of evening shifts at image+nation. I absolutely loved being involved in the festival this year and am more than a little sad that tonight is the final screening. It certainly has been a wonderful opportunity to expand my queer network. Ironically, I have made more gay male friendships than queer women ones. I tried, honestly I did, but somehow my ventures into small to medium talk with women managed to get onto the ex track each time. For example:

"Hi, my name is Rachel. What is yours?"

Pleasant reply including first name and little smile.

"So, how long have you been volunteering at the festival?"

"This is my first year. Actually, I only signed up to (get over/ escape from/ annoy) my ex who is (somewhere with all my money/ still living in the place we bought together/ also a volunteer). She is a real (bitch/ cow/ lovely person) who (did me wrong/ did my sister/ caught me doing someone else) ... " and on and on until I was able to extract myself from their often very sad monologues. I still can't figure out if they were attempting to bond with me or get rid of me. Regardless, a word to the wise, whoa on the personal details people. Complaining about your exes ad nauseum makes you sound either like a cad or a loser. Neither of these options are attractive.

My picks from the festival:
Itty Bitty Titty Committee
This Kiss
She's a Boy I Knew
Shelter

Rachel ** (perhaps the boys can help me out)

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow ...

Just when I was feeling the strong pull of Europe, Mother Nature layers down the most sumptuous fluffy snow over my fair city. Montreal wears her winter cloak so fetchingly, I hardly mind the cold bite on my cheeks as my boots crunch along the uncleared sidewalks.

Hopefully this on time snowfall is indicative that we will finally have a real Montreal winter.

I am loving the snow now even though I know I will hate it in March.

Rachel **** (in love with melt-able white stuff)

Deep Breath

So, I hope you were appreciating how classy I was being by not wondering at length in this blog as to where wonderful was and why she had not emailed me after last week's night - morning?- of passion despite insisting on my leaving contact details. For the record,that incident was absolutely what the doctor ordered. Myself being the doctor and the order being getting flipped on my back and taken care of in the most thorough way.

Anyway, I usually consider four days of no contact as clear indication that there may have been sparks but there will be no fire. However, after last night there is no need for me to wonder at all. I was tearing tickets for the Itty Bitty Titty Committee when I sensed someone starring at me. I turned to my right to find wonderful looking very much like a deer caught in my headlights holding another woman's hand. Fabulous woman that I am, I winked and shot her a broad grin before greeting the next movie goer.

Are they girlfriends? Are they in an open relationship? are they just beginning to date? Ya know what, I don't have time to wonder. Regardless of what is going on, I hadn't heard from her since our night of passion and still haven't, for that matter. Besides, I am the one auditioning local talent here. Someone who does not have the courtesy to contact me when they say they will is definitely off the call back list.

Rachel **

Party ON!

Last night, Head and Hands hosted a party in the Main Hall (5390 St. Laurent - upstairs from the Green Room). I headed up to mile end with a group of hipster queers that I met after watching Shelter at the image+nation festival. It was really fun in a naughty way - spilt beer all over the dance floor and people, crappy sound system belting out the "Violent Femmes", ladies with their hands down each others pants grinding on the dance floor ... how I love Montreal! I certainly enjoy attending civilized Kitty Cat Klub 5 a 7's in the village but wow! it was nice to party it up with people who were not discussing their condo fees.

Head and Hands' next party at the Main Hall is happening on World AIDS Day (November 30) for more details visit http://www.headandhands.ca/.

Another sure to be interesting event on World AIDS day is taking place downtown from 5 until 10 pm, "Echos Séropos from here and elsewhere" magazine is also having a Fundraiser at Gorée (1240 Crescent Street). It is hosted by the completely fabulous DJ Kani.

Anyway, I am showered and off to volunteer at the Imperial. The Itty Bitty Titty Committee is playing tonight. I am hoping to catch it on my shift.

Rachel ***

The Bubble

I just got back from the opening film of the image+nation film festival. The first film was "The Bubble (Ha-Bauh)" It was brilliant though very sad.

However, the woman from the TD bank who introduced the film was hot hot hot! A cascade of shoulder length black hair, crisp white shirt under a black vest, just the right amount of curves poured into her tight jeans plus high heels. Mama mia. Time to switch banks!

Rachel **

Ladies at Le Stud

Stud (animal) - a male animal employed for breeding
- Wikipedia

Last night, having wandered the length of the village looking for an open bar that wasn't hosting a Karaoke night, myself and the clutch of gay boys I was wandering with, entered our Wednesday night standby Bar Le Stud. Wednesdays are the only nights that women are allowed into Le Stud, a male meat market which kinda looks like a grungy cage aux sports except that the men on the large screens are bare backing instead of playing hockey. As per usual, the crowd was mainly male however a decent selection of women were at the pool tables and chatting at the bar.

Perhaps because I hadn't seen her in a few months, it took me awhile to recognize wonderful casually sipping a beer while watching two on screen bears going for it with the help of a large leather sling. I sidled up to her.

"Now what is a woman like you doing in a place like this?"
A grin took over her face before she spoke.
"Hey!" kiss, kiss, "How are you?"

We caught up and then engaged in light to medium conversation. It was lovely to be on the receiving end of her easy smiles. When Deelite came on, we decided to brave the dance floor. She looked so cute getting her groove on, I had to ask for a kiss. It was brilliant! We continued to dance, kiss and drink until "last call" was shouted out over the grinding masses. Ten minutes later the lights came up. Her arms were still around my waist.

"I live on Wolfe. Do you want to come over?"

Logic made me pause. It was past three. At what time would I have to leave the Village in order to get home, shower, change and be at work for nine? As I considered wonderful leaned forward and whispered in my ear.

"Je suis une top."
Yes! "Let's go."

Rachel *****

And we are back ...

... to Montreal, the cold, feeling at least average height again.

It's been awhile since I blogged but essentially, part way through my trip in the Netherlands, while actually out on a date in Utretcht with a woman I had met in Amsterdam's Saarein, little miss everywhere appeared. Well, more appropriately, little miss everywhere sent glasses of port over to my and my date's table as we finished up our meal. A great deal of shenanigans ensued, which was brilliant, but um I didn't get to do as much sight seeing as I had intended for the next few days.

Anyway, I'm back in Montreal, putting little miss everywhere out of my mind and flogging the "location, location, location" horse.

Actually, it wasn't a hundred percent that simple. By some evil twist of fate, I ended up in the arrivals hall at Trudeau airport just as love of my life ex and former mutual friend were reuniting after, gasp, a weekend apart. "Oh baby, I missed you so much!" over and over while they pawed each other amongst the startled masses. Call me jaded but if I hear their insipid "baby" voices again I might have to rip out their tongues. Well, at least they both have the same matching bad hair.

Rachel * (bitter but better off!)

Out and About

Yesterday, I visited the Van Gogh museum in the morning. It was awe inspiring to see the real pieces which I had previously only seen in posters and postcards. And he produced so much! What a shame that he had a mental illness. Then again, would he have been so creative if he hadn't had one? No way to know.

Following the Van Gogh museum, I visited the Ann Frank huis. That was also a perspective shifting experience. To think that the Franks had survived so long in such a small space before someone ratted them out.

After visiting the Frank house, I decided to take a canal tour to see the city and reflect a bit. Oddly enough, the tour turned out to be rather amusing especially as some French tourists mistook me for the captain of the canal boat - hilarious! I think my allo-quebecer accent really threw them. Besides, I am well too short to be Dutch. My french cuffed pink and white striped shirt over jeans must have fooled them. Pink shirts in solids, checks and stripes combined with corduroy jackets and jeans is all the rage here. Perhaps with my short hair and wearing similar attire, I look like a little man. Actually, I have been getting the student rate without asking. Do I look like a pre pubescent boy? ... hmmm. Not sure if I should be insulted or pleased.

Rachel *** (enjoying crushing lemons in her Wiekse Witte with the neat doodads at the end of dutch stir sticks)

Good Samaritan

Kiss me with your Eyes
- silk screening advert, Stedelijk Museum

Madness! On my way back from Sappho - smoky lesbian bar packed with eye candy - I encountered a woman stumbling down the Princes Canal. She saw me, mumbled something in Spanish and gave me her mobile phone. Her boyfriend was on the other end and explained to me that he had lost her over two hours ago when she had left the Coffee House they had been in. Yes, that kind of coffee house. I was able to explain to him where we were but found it very difficult to explain to her that she needed to move to a safer street corner.

Dammit! Why had la profesora spent so much time on feelings and days of the week! I needed to explain to this woman that she needed to move towards the light and the monster sized poster of the hot Swiss ski instructor.

"La luz!" I pointed frantically down the canal.
"loose?"

My dutch companion shook her head, "Let us just walk her." Which is what we did. We walked her to the corner, told her to stay "aqui!", crossed the street and waited for her boyfriend to appear. Secretly, I was expecting a nefarious looking character so was slightly disappointed when a sweet enough looking guy in a pink shirt appeared to whisk her to safety.

If you are in Amsterdam, definitely visit Saarein and Sappho ;-).

Rachel *****

All Hallow's Eve

Yesterday, I arrived in Amsterdam wearing a white ten gallon hat, jeans and cowboy boots. No one seemed to realize that I was in costume. Cowboy boots are very popular here but the hat, come on! Even when I went to the ARC later on in the hopes of at least striking up a conversation with a "pardner", only this guy with a fake eye in jam would talk to me. We were both waiting for the DJ to arrive on the bus from Rotterdam. Ah well!

I did meet a lovely blond woman who took me on a bicycle tour today. During the first part, I had my own bike and chased her over canals, tram tracks and between pedestrians. At dusk, we returned the bike I had been using to her friend before she doubled me on the back wheel. My life flashed before my eyes as I peered under her arm and bicycle bells rang about and at us. I had no idea my life would be framed in herring bone tweed. We shared 11% amber beer afterwards. Tasty!

All in all, I am enjoying myself here. Though, the restaurant service leaves much to be desired. No smiles and sloooow. In fact, the complete lack of smiles makes me wonder about the dental hygiene here. I never thought I would consider Montreal a friendly place or that it had generally superior restaurant service than anywhere. Who knew? Another reason to continue my local talent search upon my return.

Rachel *** (having fun)