Saturday, December 24, 2005
Letters to the boy who thinks I'm beautiful
21 December, 2005
Hi Majid,
I don’t in fact have much internet access while here in Toronto, but I brought my computer with me, and thought I might take you up on your offer of writing about the vacation.
First, I have to say I loooooove Timothy Findlay. I haven’t read any of his novels yet, but I love his plays. He’s a very compelling writer. Have you seen or read his play Elizabeth Rex? It’s heartbraking and beautiful. Also, Not Wanted on the Voyage has been on my reading list for too long now. I’ll need to pick it up. I think once I return to Vancouver, I will get it from the library at the end of my street.
I was also interested to hear that you’re reading a Japanese author at the moment. Is Hiroshima on the Shore in fact dealing with Hiroshima and the bomb? The dance form in which I’m working is called butoh (have you heard about this before?), which is a Japanese dance-theatre discipline that is said to be “born of the ashes of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.” I feel impelled toward this form, because its imagery addresses so much of my current horror and exhaustion with our own governments, and with the state of humanity in general. Butoh began because post-WWII Japanese artists felt that the traditional forms of Noh and Kabuki couldn’t encompass how they felt after the events of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I feel like my current impulse in the world is to hide under my bed, and stay there for the rest of my life, but that precludes making art, and so as an artist I am attracted to forms that address how terrified I am by humans.
I’m reading the letters of Thomas Merton at the moment. He was a 20th Century Benedictine monk who was based in Kentucky, and whose ecumenical bent and vociferousness against nuclear war, Vietnam, and for love among humans has made him one of the most influential Christians and Catholics of the last 100 years. He sounds like a bit of a giant, but then you read his letters, and he calls himself a big dumb phony a lot, and is very conversational and relaxed with his correspondents. It’s refreshing, and I’m finding a lot in it that compells me. Next on my list is The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis, although I might have to read something a little lighter in between. I just finished the fourth book in a series of novels by Jasper Fforde. The main character is able to read herself into books, and in the real world she inhabits, the Crimean War has been running for 137 years, there are no airplanes, people get around by dirigibles (!), wooly mammoths and dodos have been brought back from extinction through cloning technology, and the society is super-literate. It’s very funny stuff. Not too taxing, and lets a smarty-pants reader feel very clever. Sort of a series of post-modern pulp novels. The first one in the series is called the Eyre Affair. It’s fun for a light read. However, now I’ve finished the series, and need to find something else that’s less taxing than CHRISTIAN LITERATURE is. Not that C.S. Lewis is not satisfying, but I feel like Merton then Lewis might be overdoing it, especially since before Merton, I read a bit of Paradise Lost, and then before that, re-read the Divine Comedy (the show I’m working on is loosely based on the it). It’s all just a little much theology for one three month period, even though it’s been interspersed with a bunch of other books. Oh! Have you read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell yet? It’s good stuff. Once again, another one of those yummy novels where the fantasy world is only slightly different from our world. In this case, the critical difference is that magic exists in 19th Century England. Yum.
Alright, now about the vacation (whew!): I’m enjoying it so far. I’ve only been here for two days, but so far so good. I’m staying with my dad, which is always fun and interesting. I’ve been living on my own for nearly 9 years, and whenever I stay with my dad, he won’t let me do things like lift my suitcase, and he constantly reminds me to wear my scarf and hat. I think this will be the case for my whole life. It’s very funny, and also endearing. They’re the sort of things that can sometimes be frustrating, but also, they’re simple little gestures that remind me that my father loves me and cares about me so much that he can’t keep it inside. I think that’s worth enduring a little frustration. My best friend and I also have seen one another a couple of times already (we’re sewn together at the hip, which makes dance class very challenging), and will see one another a LOT more before I depart.
I went to a dance class this morning, which was okay. Not as good as the ones I attend in Vancouver, but it was alright. I’m used to almost constant movement for 1.5 hours and this class was a lot lot lot of talking and marking through exercises, instead of actually doing them. I had a light perspiration going, but I’m used to being a puddle by the end of class. I found myself wanting more from it. However, it’s the only class that’s running while I’m here. Everyone else is shut down for the whole month of December, and half of January, it seems. These would probably be the classes I’d take if I lived in Toronto anyway, so it’s alright. I’m going to have to take responsibility for my own activity in that week between Christmas and New Year, since there are no classes running at all during that time.
Tomorrow is going to be good, I think. Dance class again, then relaxation, then am going out to a pub with a bunch of friends who protest that they miss me very much. I’m looking forward to seeing these people. They’re theatre people that I like, and with whom I’ve built a long lasting relationship. This is exciting for me.
In the past couple of days I’ve been passing landmarks that remind me of my ex. Geh. This is no fun. I’ve been doing very well around that whole thing, in fact. I spoke with my sister yesterday, telling her that he’d broken up with me over MSN messenger, and she made a characteristic face that made me laugh and say “how ridiculous that whole fiasco was,” but still, when I passed a restaurant where we had lunch, I got a little pang, and found myself a little possessed as I passed by his neighbourhood on a way to a meeting today. I’m glad that we have such different geographical attractors – that we don’t move in the same circles. I live uptown, he lives downtown (in the gay village – not one of my areas in Toronto), it means that I’m almost certain not to see him with his new beau while I’m here. I’m sure I’d have the energy and grace to be…..gracious if I did see him, but I’d rather just let him be gone from my mind altogether. However, I believe that this whole thing has occurred for learning on all sides: for me, I feel like I have to be unremittingly honest with myself about the man that I am seeing. Before we had broken up, I had thought about it, and thought that if I had to make the choice, I would choose my performance career over him, hands down. However, I still cultivated this attachment to a life with him – a picket fence life – and it was the loss of that that I felt so keenly when he told me he had fallen for someone else. That, and als o the fact that I was not courageous enough to tell him I loved him as soon as I felt it to be the case. As terrifying as honesty is, especially with oneself, I feel that I have to live in that way, if I’m to be satisfied with myself in any small way whatsoever. That’s it for now. I’ll write more later, and send it to you in large, unwieldly blocks as I can.
Matthew
23 December, 2005
Hiya,
I hope you are doing well in Vancouver. I don’t think I realised how different Vancouver and Toronto actually are until I returned here. No wonder everyone is so active and relaxed on the west coast. It’s so crowded and concrete here, and so spacious and green there. Before I left for Vancouver, I had cultivated an acceptance of Toronto’s cityscape, but now, it’s gone again. Before Toronto, I’d lived in Ottawa for a few years, and become used to its beauty, friendliness, and the breathing space that one has while going about one’s day. On return to Toronto, I had a very hard time readjusting to its pace, and just the general personality of the city. However, I came to a point where I felt that “home” involved being comfortable in my own skin, and had less to do with my location. I still feel this way, but coming back to Toronto has reminded me that I don’t particularly care for the city, except insofar as it can provide me with what I need artistically (a good group of fellow artists, exciting performance opportunities and the like).
Anyway, I’ve finished Christmas shopping today (whew!). I went out with friends last night, and got to see some people that I’ve missed pretty terribly, and who have missed me. I thought I would go to dance class this morning, but just slept in, and took the time to rest. It was a productive day despite the fact that I only left the house at about 1pm. I finished the Christmas shopping and errand running, and was back home by 4.30. My father just arrived home, and I think we’re going to be having dinner very soon. Tomorrow I’m meeting my sister at 4, when she’s finished work, and I’ll spend the night at her home, having Christmas dinner with her in-laws (with whom I lived in the first year that I returned to Toronto after living in Ottawa). They’re Czech, and my sister and her husband make fun of his mother’s cooking, but I love it. I so seldom have rich Eastern European food, and so it’s a great treat to have a massive meal at their house on Christmas. Then I’ll return to my father’s for Christmas day, and that’s all I have planned for now. I’m wanting to see some other friends during my time here, but I have no fast plans for that. Is this interesting for anyone but me?
Hopefully I will be able to send this letter to you tomorrow when I’m at my sister’s. They have internet access. I’m feeling a little internet starved.
Anyway, I hope you’re well, and I’ll talk with you soon, and hopefully meet you when I get back into town.
Regards,
Matthew
Hi Majid,
I don’t in fact have much internet access while here in Toronto, but I brought my computer with me, and thought I might take you up on your offer of writing about the vacation.
First, I have to say I loooooove Timothy Findlay. I haven’t read any of his novels yet, but I love his plays. He’s a very compelling writer. Have you seen or read his play Elizabeth Rex? It’s heartbraking and beautiful. Also, Not Wanted on the Voyage has been on my reading list for too long now. I’ll need to pick it up. I think once I return to Vancouver, I will get it from the library at the end of my street.
I was also interested to hear that you’re reading a Japanese author at the moment. Is Hiroshima on the Shore in fact dealing with Hiroshima and the bomb? The dance form in which I’m working is called butoh (have you heard about this before?), which is a Japanese dance-theatre discipline that is said to be “born of the ashes of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.” I feel impelled toward this form, because its imagery addresses so much of my current horror and exhaustion with our own governments, and with the state of humanity in general. Butoh began because post-WWII Japanese artists felt that the traditional forms of Noh and Kabuki couldn’t encompass how they felt after the events of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. I feel like my current impulse in the world is to hide under my bed, and stay there for the rest of my life, but that precludes making art, and so as an artist I am attracted to forms that address how terrified I am by humans.
I’m reading the letters of Thomas Merton at the moment. He was a 20th Century Benedictine monk who was based in Kentucky, and whose ecumenical bent and vociferousness against nuclear war, Vietnam, and for love among humans has made him one of the most influential Christians and Catholics of the last 100 years. He sounds like a bit of a giant, but then you read his letters, and he calls himself a big dumb phony a lot, and is very conversational and relaxed with his correspondents. It’s refreshing, and I’m finding a lot in it that compells me. Next on my list is The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis, although I might have to read something a little lighter in between. I just finished the fourth book in a series of novels by Jasper Fforde. The main character is able to read herself into books, and in the real world she inhabits, the Crimean War has been running for 137 years, there are no airplanes, people get around by dirigibles (!), wooly mammoths and dodos have been brought back from extinction through cloning technology, and the society is super-literate. It’s very funny stuff. Not too taxing, and lets a smarty-pants reader feel very clever. Sort of a series of post-modern pulp novels. The first one in the series is called the Eyre Affair. It’s fun for a light read. However, now I’ve finished the series, and need to find something else that’s less taxing than CHRISTIAN LITERATURE is. Not that C.S. Lewis is not satisfying, but I feel like Merton then Lewis might be overdoing it, especially since before Merton, I read a bit of Paradise Lost, and then before that, re-read the Divine Comedy (the show I’m working on is loosely based on the it). It’s all just a little much theology for one three month period, even though it’s been interspersed with a bunch of other books. Oh! Have you read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell yet? It’s good stuff. Once again, another one of those yummy novels where the fantasy world is only slightly different from our world. In this case, the critical difference is that magic exists in 19th Century England. Yum.
Alright, now about the vacation (whew!): I’m enjoying it so far. I’ve only been here for two days, but so far so good. I’m staying with my dad, which is always fun and interesting. I’ve been living on my own for nearly 9 years, and whenever I stay with my dad, he won’t let me do things like lift my suitcase, and he constantly reminds me to wear my scarf and hat. I think this will be the case for my whole life. It’s very funny, and also endearing. They’re the sort of things that can sometimes be frustrating, but also, they’re simple little gestures that remind me that my father loves me and cares about me so much that he can’t keep it inside. I think that’s worth enduring a little frustration. My best friend and I also have seen one another a couple of times already (we’re sewn together at the hip, which makes dance class very challenging), and will see one another a LOT more before I depart.
I went to a dance class this morning, which was okay. Not as good as the ones I attend in Vancouver, but it was alright. I’m used to almost constant movement for 1.5 hours and this class was a lot lot lot of talking and marking through exercises, instead of actually doing them. I had a light perspiration going, but I’m used to being a puddle by the end of class. I found myself wanting more from it. However, it’s the only class that’s running while I’m here. Everyone else is shut down for the whole month of December, and half of January, it seems. These would probably be the classes I’d take if I lived in Toronto anyway, so it’s alright. I’m going to have to take responsibility for my own activity in that week between Christmas and New Year, since there are no classes running at all during that time.
Tomorrow is going to be good, I think. Dance class again, then relaxation, then am going out to a pub with a bunch of friends who protest that they miss me very much. I’m looking forward to seeing these people. They’re theatre people that I like, and with whom I’ve built a long lasting relationship. This is exciting for me.
In the past couple of days I’ve been passing landmarks that remind me of my ex. Geh. This is no fun. I’ve been doing very well around that whole thing, in fact. I spoke with my sister yesterday, telling her that he’d broken up with me over MSN messenger, and she made a characteristic face that made me laugh and say “how ridiculous that whole fiasco was,” but still, when I passed a restaurant where we had lunch, I got a little pang, and found myself a little possessed as I passed by his neighbourhood on a way to a meeting today. I’m glad that we have such different geographical attractors – that we don’t move in the same circles. I live uptown, he lives downtown (in the gay village – not one of my areas in Toronto), it means that I’m almost certain not to see him with his new beau while I’m here. I’m sure I’d have the energy and grace to be…..gracious if I did see him, but I’d rather just let him be gone from my mind altogether. However, I believe that this whole thing has occurred for learning on all sides: for me, I feel like I have to be unremittingly honest with myself about the man that I am seeing. Before we had broken up, I had thought about it, and thought that if I had to make the choice, I would choose my performance career over him, hands down. However, I still cultivated this attachment to a life with him – a picket fence life – and it was the loss of that that I felt so keenly when he told me he had fallen for someone else. That, and als o the fact that I was not courageous enough to tell him I loved him as soon as I felt it to be the case. As terrifying as honesty is, especially with oneself, I feel that I have to live in that way, if I’m to be satisfied with myself in any small way whatsoever. That’s it for now. I’ll write more later, and send it to you in large, unwieldly blocks as I can.
Matthew
23 December, 2005
Hiya,
I hope you are doing well in Vancouver. I don’t think I realised how different Vancouver and Toronto actually are until I returned here. No wonder everyone is so active and relaxed on the west coast. It’s so crowded and concrete here, and so spacious and green there. Before I left for Vancouver, I had cultivated an acceptance of Toronto’s cityscape, but now, it’s gone again. Before Toronto, I’d lived in Ottawa for a few years, and become used to its beauty, friendliness, and the breathing space that one has while going about one’s day. On return to Toronto, I had a very hard time readjusting to its pace, and just the general personality of the city. However, I came to a point where I felt that “home” involved being comfortable in my own skin, and had less to do with my location. I still feel this way, but coming back to Toronto has reminded me that I don’t particularly care for the city, except insofar as it can provide me with what I need artistically (a good group of fellow artists, exciting performance opportunities and the like).
Anyway, I’ve finished Christmas shopping today (whew!). I went out with friends last night, and got to see some people that I’ve missed pretty terribly, and who have missed me. I thought I would go to dance class this morning, but just slept in, and took the time to rest. It was a productive day despite the fact that I only left the house at about 1pm. I finished the Christmas shopping and errand running, and was back home by 4.30. My father just arrived home, and I think we’re going to be having dinner very soon. Tomorrow I’m meeting my sister at 4, when she’s finished work, and I’ll spend the night at her home, having Christmas dinner with her in-laws (with whom I lived in the first year that I returned to Toronto after living in Ottawa). They’re Czech, and my sister and her husband make fun of his mother’s cooking, but I love it. I so seldom have rich Eastern European food, and so it’s a great treat to have a massive meal at their house on Christmas. Then I’ll return to my father’s for Christmas day, and that’s all I have planned for now. I’m wanting to see some other friends during my time here, but I have no fast plans for that. Is this interesting for anyone but me?
Hopefully I will be able to send this letter to you tomorrow when I’m at my sister’s. They have internet access. I’m feeling a little internet starved.
Anyway, I hope you’re well, and I’ll talk with you soon, and hopefully meet you when I get back into town.
Regards,
Matthew
// posted by MSR @ 2:20 PM 
