On Saturday morning I finished memorizing the
third verse of “Bourrée de complexes" (Buried in Complexes) by Boris Vian.
There's just one extended chorus to nail down and then I can start working out
the chords.
I
was still struggling with learning the first seven verses of “Variations sur
Marilou" by Serge Gainsbourg. I memorized the seventh stanza but then some
of the earlier parts fell out of order in my head.
I
made the seventeenth video recording of my daily song rehearsal. I had to close
my living room windows as I did one of my songs twice because there was a line
of dump trucks parked and rumbling across the street as they waited to pick up
their loads of dirt from a construction site. This might be the last video that
I shoot for a while because I don’t have any more room on my hard drive until I
delete some downloads or edit and upload some of the songs.
I
went to the food bank at 9:45. The line was two people shorter than the last
two times and I got the yellow heart behind the Tunisian guy that I chatted
with last year. I took out my book to begin reading but then I saw Beth coming
to take the spot behind me and I knew there would be continuous conversation. I
held the book open anyway out of habit.
I
asked her how she was and she said, “I think I’m alive!"
I
inquired if she ever thinks she’s not alive and she explained that she was just
trying to be philosophical relative to the possibility that life is all an
illusion. I know that question well since I studied it for four months five
years ago in a horrible course called "Knowledge and Reality". My
mind was flooded with formulas and arguments about whether or not we are really
brains in vats connected to wires that feed us our reality.
Beth
commented that the distance between her heart and the one after it was not as
much as the other hearts. I stepped out to look and saw that she was right.
About two meters behind my heart are two cables that are driven into the
sidewalk to anchor a pole. Since they couldn’t put the pink heart on that spot
they painted it slightly after but still measured the last heart at four meters
after mine.
Beth
was complaining about the pigeons and sparrows that have been roosting on her
window ledge. I told her that neither of those birds are native to North
America. The pigeons were brought from France for food by the French settlers
in Nova Scotia in 1606 and the sparrows, sparrows and many other European birds
were brought to New York in the 19th Century by a guy who wanted all
of the birds mentioned in Shakespeare’s works to enrich Central Park.
Beth
said that she thinks pigeons are works of art because they have such a variety
of patterns. I offered that their beauty would be more appreciated if there
weren’t so many of them around.
Rosemarie
came with a clipboard to take our names. I was glad to see her and I told her
so. I had been worried the week before when I saw no volunteers that were
Parkdalians that aliens from snooty neighbourhoods had invaded the food bank.
Beth
said that there are people in Parkdale that want the food bank closed because
they don’t like seeing the clients lining up on the street and blocking
pedestrian traffic.
I
don’t know if there is really an organized group trying to shut down the food
bank as there is certainly no reference to it online. If people find seeing or
passing the line-ups annoying they can’t be half as annoyed as the people that
have to stand and wait in the line. The Parkdale food bank is the only one in
Toronto where clients have to line up on the street. Food bank customers and
those that don’t need the food bank are all in agreement that the line-ups
should not exist. I doubt however that many people oppose there being a food
bank here although some may resent its visibility.
From
the time that I arrived until the food was handed out the wait was about
fifteen minutes. I asked Rosemarie why it always goes so fast when she’s there.
She
laughed but maybe thought I was lightly complaining because she said I should
be glad that it goes at all.
I
only took about a quarter of what was in the milk carton that I was given. I
picked the tin of chickpeas, the two cans of tuna, the 85 gram container of
ranch dip, the bag of 1% milk, the six eggs and the butternut squash. The only
item that stood out was a sausage that had been sliced thickly, crookedly and unevenly
and then sealed in thick plastic. The sausage was only labelled with the date
on which it was packed and the kind of sausage was not indicated. My guess from
the appearance and taste is that it’s a type of smoked salami.
So basically
anything that wasn’t mostly protein or a vegetable I put back into the milk
carton and held it out to Beth. She took the Oreos cereal and the large pack of
little round brownies with yellow frosting. Just then another woman came up who
wanted check out what I had and I told her she could take what she wanted. She
grabbed the pasta and a few other things. It became a small competition between
Beth and this woman as Beth asked if she could take the bag of buns. Then a
third woman came up to look in my crate. I haven’t had three women at the same
time interested in what I had to offer since thirty years ago when I had three
girlfriends at the same time. The third woman took the white package containing
some kind of instant rice dish.
Beth got the
stewed tomatoes and most everything else but one item. She offered me her
butternut squash in trade and I accepted it. On my way to put my empty milk
crate by the door I was able to give my can of beans in tomato sauce with pork
to the woman that had already taken my pasta.
There was a fair
amount of protein this time at the food bank but it was pretty sparse in the
vegetable department, but I was glad to be finished so soon.
It was just after
10:00 when I got home. I put my food
away and then headed out to the supermarket. At No Frills I got three bags of
cherries, two half pints of raspberries, a loaf of cinnamon-raisin bread, a
pack of ground beef, a pack of pork chops, a tin of dark coffee and a bag of
Miss Vickie’s potato chips. I accidentally bought the alcohol free kind of mouthwash,
which I find tastes horrible.
I asked the
cashier to confirm that after Monday I would have to wear a mask when I came
there and she said that was the case. I inquired as to whether a scarf would be
okay and she said that all they said was that some kind of face covering was
needed. That was good news since it seems silly for me to buy surgical masks
just to go to the supermarket for a few minutes every week.
I had a salami,
cheese and lettuce sandwich on toast for lunch.
In the afternoon I
skipped my exercises and abike ride and just worked on my journal.
It was a warm
night but not too hot to use the stove to make toast and fry an egg and two
slices of salami for dinner. I had them with a beer while watching “The Woman
Turned to Salt”, which is the thirty-sixth episode of the 1957-1958 Alfred
Hitchcock produced TV series, “Suspicion”. This was also the last of the
stories that were in the torrent that I downloaded and like most of the others
it was only partially complete and jumped through to the end in ten minutes. I
found a version on Daily Motion to watch and they didn’t run any annoying
commercials this time.
In this story
Solange Rogers is a successful divorce lawyer. She is approached in her hotel
in Switzerland by a Mrs Russell who is desperate to get her daughter Rosemary
to break off her engagement with the wealthy artist Angus Martin. Angus claims
that his wife is dead but Mrs Russell is certain that she is alive and she
wants Solange to prove that so the marriage can’t go through. Solange is on
vacation and reluctant to take the case but she feels sympathetic towards the
mother and gives in. But when Solange meets Rosemary and Angus and sees how
happy they are together she does not want to interfere. Angus however asks her
to take the case. He admits that his wife is still alive but says she refuses
to give him a divorce. She tracks Mrs Martin down to a rooming house in Ireland
where she is on her deathbed. She sends for Angus and he is there when she
dies. Mrs Martin says her last words to Solange when she says that she played
straight with Angus and so for her to make sure he plays straight with Davie.
Angus denies knowing anyone by the name of Davie but Solange doesn’t believe
him.
Rosemary and Angus
get married and Solange comes to visit in their house on the Italian Riviera.
The house was designed and decorated beautifully by Angus and he also plays
piano exquisitely. He humbly says that with these things he was just following
a blueprint but when he does his paintings they are entirely original. Solange
asks to see his paintings but he says they are not ready to be viewed. One day
Solange wanders into his studio when he is out and finds nothing of beauty. One
portrait of a woman that she discovers is seething with hatred. Later Solange
notices that a young fisherman named Pietro has been visiting Angus. She
eavesdrops and learns that Pietro is blackmailing him. The next day when Pietro
comes and Angus has not yet arrived, Solange confronts the young man with a
gun. She wants to know what he knows about Angus. He refuses to speak until she
shows him the hateful portrait of the woman. He recognizes the face and is
frightened. Pietro tries to get away but Solange says she knows how to use the
gun. Pietro says that he saw Angus kill her. Solange tells Pietro he can go.
When Angus arrives she confronts Angus about the painting and says she knows
that it is a portrait of his real wife. Angus admits that the woman that died
in Ireland was not his wife. He had met her in art school and when she got TB
he made a deal with her that he would take care of her son Davie if she would
pretend to be his wife. He confesses to Solange that he killed his wife but
says that it was an accident. She had seen the portrait he had painted of her
and tried to destroy it. He tried to stop her and struck her, causing her to
stumble, hit her head and die. He put her body inside of a pillar that he built
for his garden.
Solange leaves and
doesn’t hear of Rosemary and Angus for two years until she gets word that Angus
has died. She comes to comfort Rosemary and learns that Angus died when a storm
knocked the pillar in his garden down on top of him.
Solange was played
by Pamela Brown, who started out as a teenager playing Juliet at Stratford on
Avon. Her first film was Michael Powell’s “One of Our Aircraft id Missing”. She
and Powell became lovers and lived together until she died of cancer at the age
of 58.
Rosemary was
played by Susan Oliver, who had a long and full career on stage, in films and
on television but is known to Star Trek fans as having starred as Vina in the
original pilot of Star Trek.
Solange’s
secretary was played by Alfred Hitchcock’s daughter Patricia, who gave adequate
support in several of his films and TV shows.
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