What if. . . . .

Do you ever sit and think; what if? What if you had never
said the first hello. Or what if your paths never crossed?
What if you kept your mouth shut and just let things pass?
What if you had just five more minutes? What if you could
turn back time and make it all stand still, where would
your life be? Better? Worse? Less confused? More confused?
Happier? Or sadder?

Paradise Lost

'At the heart of all beauty lies something inhuman,
and these hills, the softness of the sky, the outline
of these trees at this very minute lose the illusory
meaning with which we had clothed them, henceforth
more remote than a lost paradise . . . that denseness
and that strangeness of the world is absurd.' ~ Albert Camus

Gratification

In a culture that promotes quick fixes and immediate
gratification, it is much too easy to lose sight of
one's objectives, when so many temptations invite
us to fail. What is this sense of entitlement that
pervades society today? Has the whole concept of
delayed gratification gone out the window?
What are we teaching our children, when we ourselves
cannot resist yielding to each momentary desire, each
of-the-moment whim?
Discipline weighs ounces, regret weighs tons.
The secret to overcoming temptation is to remember
what you want. Your objective must hang, like
a banner, over all that you do. ~ Aurora Lynn

'Ethereal Spread' . . . a Sunday Soiree‏

On the drive down, I noticed the barren streets - considering the sky
was this shiny, dark blue hue backlit by these most magnificent stars.
It was 'Ethereal' and so achingly beautiful, my heart skipped.
I thought, how grateful I am for the abundance in my life. I have joy.
I have passion and meaning. I have incredible people to love, and who
return that love in unique and wonderful ways every day that I am
graced with life. I want for nothing. I am truly blessed!

'The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously,
drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.' ~ Henry Miller

Kisses ... dancing tongues ... eyes closed, hugs and kisses, tightening
of hands, groans of pleasure... and then... only the silence of the
moon, the only spectator of this night of culinary opuses.

'When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come to the
conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my
talent for absorbing positive knowledge' ~ Albert Einstein

I often wondered how a Sunday Soiree, rather than Friday or Saturday
would turnout. Would people still come . . . it is, after all, outside the box.
But wasn't that the idea . . . inspired by Steve Jobs? And further instilled in
me by Madame Globe then, seconded by The Attorney. The ladies mused!
Listening to Sting's 'Fragile', as the driver makes his way to Saint-Denis,
and nearly every time I hear this register of strings. . .I'm drinking the wild
air and feeling transported, hovering over and through an imagination and
command of characters, not since Dickens. The very gentle soul capable and
conscious of 'hearing' me and still, I sing. Is it not the plight, the dance, the
way ripples spread on a lake as fog settles over westward and after burns
an amber glowing candle inside a vat of stone hewed by some fellows at the
corner of Carré Saint-Louis. These images I see contribute to the fabric
of this 'Ethereal' evening.

'I got lost in the night, without the light of your eyelids, and when the night
surrounded me I was born again: I was the owner of my own darkness.' ~ Pablo Neruda

As we turn on Saint-Laurent, I watch as dwellers are returning home like
flakes floating down The Main. After a prolonged absence, I returned to
a familiar place . . . The Attorney and myself observed as we perused the
dimly lit restaurant, Stan Getz playing 'Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars'... the
night was definitely quiet and mellow and there was a joy in the air. 'It's good
to be home!'
We were the first to arrive . . . along with a newcomer, the enchanting Olga,
who hails from the Ukraine, which led to a colorful lesson in history and
geography, once Elbina (My Meryl . . . who is also from Russia but not Russian)
arrived and settled next to Olga.
Once upon a time, on any given night, there was no missing the action, the
eye candy and enticing food at this hip spot on the main. It is the space with
the most cutting-edge décor . . . The hot spot that boasts the latest celebrity
sightings. With their comely waitresses, groovy colour schemes, and up-to-
the-minute menus, Globe has always been considered 'hot' on all of these
fronts. While some of its competitors have cuter waitresses and better chairs,
Globe always succeeded by offering the full package.
I had practically lived at the Globe for most of the 1990s'- and for the first
ten years of the Millenium, sporadically I always returned for one reason
or another. But in the dawning of this new decade, it was no longer 'My Globe',
but nonetheless, tonight we were going to be spoiled like prodigal children.

'Come quickly! I am tasting stars!' ~ Dom Perignon (1638-1714) proclaimed
when he took his first sip of champagne.

I was stationed at the end of this long train of tables, setup plump in the middle
of the restaurant. I had not sat at the head of the table in some time, but after
having gone through a round of musical chairs . . . it was the most comfortable
hamlet. While waiting for the rest of the group to materialize, we were served
Prosecco accompanied with oysters on ice . . . I felt like The Sheik from those
Rudolf Valentino films (Ha! Ha!). A mélange of baked Miso & Maple oysters
soon followed that were particularly innovative and tangy on the palate. More
Prosecco, please!

'I want to make wines that harmonize with food - wines that almost hug your
tongue with gentleness.' ~ Robert Mondavi

Monsieur Globe's choice for our red was a smooth velvety 'Campo Viejo
Crianza Rioja', dry medium-bodied and woody. It's the light texture of this
wine that makes it a pleasure to drink. The white was a 'Kendall Jackson
'Summation' Sauvignon Blanc. This Chardonnay blend mingles refreshing
flavors of honeydew melon, apricot, pink grapefruit and white pepper. Added
hints of honeysuckle and a creamy mouthfeel result in a soft, dry wine.
The second course was a choice of Mesclun salad with pears, endives, almonds
with Chardonnay vinaigrette. The leaves were seasoned just so it was another
burst of flavors in your mouth. The grilled quail with honey, corn bell pepper
and pide was perfectly sauteed . . . pink and tender . . . it melted in your
mouth . . .a difficult undertaking for victuals.
Then for an 'Entremets', Jean-François took our tastebuds on a voyage to
Italy with devilish black trumpet mushroom Cavatelli sprinkled with truffle oil
and topped with a poached egg. I, for one, had seconds . . . Empyrean!
Then came our main courses . . . A roasted half-chicken from Voltigeurs' farm,
with these appetizing Pont-Neuf frites and cole slaw. I usually never partake
of cole slaw but this one contained the correct portion of milk to salt to cabbage.
Beef short ribs were perfectly seasoned and braised with grilled leeks and sesame.
The Attorney swore by it! The 'Fish of The Day' was a grilled Halibut with shiitake,
ginger, broccoli in a dashi broth. It was incredibly moist and delectably delicious.
We finished off our wine with a platter of whole grilled Camembert . . .a nice way
to culminate this culinary carousel. We had our coffee with these dark chocolate
brownies with walnuts and salted caramel sauce. I felt like a kid in a candy store!

As is the case with each gathering . . .the dynamics and especially the landscape
changes, and not more apparent than this recent eclectic ensemble. I'm a big
proponent of evolution and this group has definitely evolved. It was different
and unique, as they all are, but this time, due to the 'Ethereal' theme it was
more varied and discerning. It's similar to an ever-changing living organism that
grows as it absorbs particles along its journey. Like the ever so lovely Maureen
(My New Megan Fox) who traveled from Saint-Sauveur to partake of this splendid
soiree. We recently met online and when she sauntered in, the lady raptured in
smoke had these curves that could summon a fellow to stand up . . . which I almost
did!!!

'Most of the confidence which I appear to feel, especially when influenced by wine,
is only a pretense.' ~ Tennessee Williams

A special mention to Virginia Woolf, who looked absolutely bewitching, brought an
entourage of delicious ladies . . . such as the thespian extraordinaire Marjean Holden
(no relation to William Holden). In my head, I was singing once again. . . .'L.A. Woman'.

'Beauty alone gives no guarantee for happiness. One should rather strive for elegance,
grace and style.' ~ Audrey Hepburn

The always engaging and beautiful Nathalie Di, who looked more youthful than
I remembered, and Virginia's friend Shirley from the South Shore, who came with
her boy toy. How's that for youthfulness!?!

'An inordinate passion for pleasure is the secret of remaining young.' ~ Oscar Wilde

Hats off to the boys ... The Photographer, Julio, Domenic and Benjamin, for
holding court in their respective enclaves . . . and to some of the other regulars.
The Attorney, Madame Sothebys, who came without Monsieur. My Meryl, (who
is a makeup artist to the stars) never lets me down. Recognized our waitress-
in-training, Nastassia, as an ingénue she applied her craft on during a film shoot.
How cool is that!?! Montreal is such a small town.
There was a small group as well of dear, sweet friends who came for drinks,
Mena, Anna, Olympia, Pina, Dino and La Regina. We seem to have amassed
quite a troupe of movers and shakers. Thank you, my friends. 'I'm as happy
as a little girl!'

I would be remise not to mention the tremendous service, from our delightful
waitresses, Marie-Eve, Andrea, Justine and of course Nastassia. Our Man Friday,
Michael Bukacheski was very gracious, attentive and a true gentlemen. Madame
Globe helped me with the menu and other details. Finally, chef Jean-François
Baril who again and again proves that he truly is a culinary connoisseur of the
highest echelons.

'There are times in life when we set our sights on something that's deeply
important to us yet, when we hit roadblocks, setbacks, or failure, we make
a premature decision to give up. The message this week is simple – if you
know in your heart that your goal is right, be persistent.' ~ Cheryl Richardson

'Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.' ~ Dr. Seuss

* From Where I Sit!
www.fromwhereisit.co
November 27, 2011

The Muse (s)‏

In Greek mythology . . . The Muses are a sisterhood of goddesses,
their number set at nine, who embody the arts and inspire the
creation with their graces through remembered and improvised song
and stage, writing, traditional music, and dance.
The daughters of Zeus, king of the gods, and Mnemosyne, Goddess
of memory, were denizens of Mount Parnassus, born in Pieria which
is described as 'watered by the springs flowing from Olympus'.

Truman Capote noted . . . The Muses are heard – every time a
poet writes, an artist draws, or, so we are told, a designer
drapes. Homer invoked this ethereal sorority at the opening of
'The Odyssey', and Dante summoned them before plunging into
his 'Inferno' . . . 'O Muses . . . aid me now!'

* Calliope (the 'beautiful of speech'): chief of the muses and
muse of epic or heroic poetry.
* Clio (the 'glorious one'): muse of history.
* Erato (the 'amorous one'): muse of love or erotic poetry,
lyrics, and marriage songs.
* Euterpe (the 'well-pleasing'): muse of music and lyric poetry.
* Melpomene (the 'chanting one'): muse of tragedy.
* Polyhymnia or Polymnia (the singer of many hymns): muse of
sacred song, oratory, lyric, singing and rhetoric.
* Terpsichore (the one who delights in dance): muse of choral
song and dance.
* Thalia (the 'blossoming one'): muse of comedy and bucolic poetry.
* Urania (the 'celestial one'): muse of astronomy.

Somewhere along the millennia the immortal Muses morphed into
flesh-and-blood females, capable of holding all manner of Great
Men in their thrall. Muses are explicitly used in modern English
to refer to an inspiration, as when one cites his/her own artistic
muse.
For a time Courbet and Whistler could barely load up their
brushes without the guiding presence of their auburn-tressed muse,
Jo Hifferman. The Viennese seductress Alma Mahler famously
impelled Gustav Mahler to compose, Walter Gropius to build, and
Oskar Kokoschka who went so far as to commission a life-size doll
of her-to paint.

Around the same moment that art became abstract, The Muses migrated
from artists' studios to couturiers' salons. Poiret's career did
not long outlast his marriage to his obliging muse Denise, whom
the fabled designer at one point literally locked up in a gilded
cage. Givenchy recalled that 'something magic happened' the instant
his symbiotic ideal, Audrey Hepburn, slipped on that first ensemble
in his showroom. Yves Saint Laurent, for his part, assembled around
him a formidable muse entourage (Loulou de la Falaise, Betty Catroux,
and Paloma Picasso), personifying a distinct facet of his taste.

* From Where I Sit!
www.fromwhereisit.co
November 15, 2011

Restaurant Review - 'Au Petit Extra'‏

It has been said there are two truly authentic 'Parisian' bistros
that represent Montreal's unique spirit. The first, at the high-end
of the spectrum, is 'L'Express' on St.Denis, made up of local Quebec
celebrities and the French business hierarchy. The other, situated
on an unglamorous strip of Ontario Street, in the heart of the Gay
village, across from a gas station, is 'Au Petit Extra'. It has been
the haunt of the Plateau Mont Royal smart set for close to 20 years.
Considering the location is a little off the beaten track, and
parking is almost non-existant, the dining room is always crowded.
So much so that we sipped wine at the bar, the ideal spot for soaking
up the ambiance, while they prepped our table. Dinner here is like
a big party, packed to the rafters with jovial regulars. This expansive
neighborhood bistro has always been remarkably warm and friendly.

Though I had not dined at 'Au Petit Extra' before, once seated,
I'm transported to Paris. The claw-footed banquettes, black-lacquered
bistro chairs, blackboards and large ornate mirrors would have me
believing Carole Bouquet and Gérard Depardieu might be sharing
a bottle of Bordeaux at a corner table. Picture the movie 'Something's
Gotta Give' starring Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton. Close to the
end of the film, while in Paris, Jack interrupts Keaton and Keanu
Reeves celebrating a birthday at a bistro . . . that's 'Au Petit
Extra'. You look outside and you think it's 'rue du Bois de Boulogne'.
Yet, if this was Paris, the waitress would be miffed at my request
for a larger wine glass, instead Frenchwoman Francine met my request
with a gracious, 'Bien sur . . . M. Franck'.
True to bistro form, 'Au Petit Extra', offers an impressive wine
list comprising of well-priced French bottles including some privately
imported goodies. With Francine's help we chose 'La Madera' St.Chinian,
a dynamic little red well-suited to the variety of dishes. St.Chinian
is a region or appellation, that produces very harsh wines, a little
coarse, according to one dinner companion. A good bottle of wine is
an excellent opportunity to elevate your meal a notch or two.

'And wine can of their wits the wise beguile, make the sage frolic,
and the serious smile.' ~ Alexander Pope

With the wine she brings baskets of bread, which they bake in the
kitchen. Sinful! The meal kicks off with a choice of soup or salad.
In my opinion, the better choice is salad which is topped with grilled
vegetables. The appetizer lineup counts a half-dozen dishes, including
a pleasant snail sauté enhanced with a tomato compote. The most
successful dishes are the house classics, a creamy and perfectly
seasoned 'torchon de foie gras volaille', and a 'salade de chévre'
consisting of a generous round of grilled goat's cheese paired with
a green salad laced with mustard vinaigrette.
Main courses are also simple and classic bistro favorites, along
with some newer additions. 'Pavé de thon rouge au sesame', every bite
offers fresh and vibrant flavors complemented by the various textures
of the fish.

'Even more importantly, it's wine, food and the arts. Incorporating
those three enhances the quality of life.' ~ Robert Mondavi

A meal at 'Au Petit Extra' is about much more than the food. Dinner
here is about ambiance, unwinding, and soaking up that cool Gallic
dynamic Montreal has over any city in North America. It's about
French waiters speaking to you in French, comely waitresses sporting
a long no-shape black dress with chunky shoes. Diners ranging from
families to couples meeting for dinner after work who look as though
they haven't a care in the world other than which wine goes best
with their 'gigot d'agneau'. Given 'Au Petit Extra's genuine
joie-de-vivre, I plan to re-examine as frequent as possible.


* From Where I Sit!
www.fromwhereisit.co
October 30, 2006

* Bistro Au Petit Extra
1690 Ontario St. E.
Montréal, H2L 1S7
(514) 527-5552
www.aupetitextra.com/petitextra/fr

Movie Review - 'The Rum Diary'‏

Hunter S. Thompson was famous for consuming copious amounts of drugs and
alcohol while still, somehow, churning out wildly colorful, raging dispatches from
the road. 'The Rum Diary' is based on his only published, heavily autobiographical
novel by the same name, which he wrote as a 22-year-old in the late 1950s and
early 1960s after a stint as a newspaper reporter in San Juan, Puerto Rico, but
was not published until 1998.

It likely never would have seen the light of day if Thompson's friend,
Johnny Depp, hadn't discovered it rummaging through some old boxes of
Hunter's works and notes, in his basement while staying with him 15
years ago, preparing to make 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', into
a movie with the director Terry Gilliam. Hunter himself had forgotten
about the manuscript. Soon after Johnny found the novel, it was finally
published, the year the movie of 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas' came
out. Depp has been trying to get it adapted to the screen ever since.
That is why it's Depp's 'The Rum Diary' as much as it is the late
Thompson's.

“These perfect boxes,” Johnny says. “I pulled it out. I was like,
'What is this?' Hunter was like, 'Oh, shit. The Rum Diary. Oh, yeah.'
It was hidden. Hunter didn't know it was there.”

The film, which is dedicated to Thompson, who died in 2005 -- is
essentially a portrait of the Duke as a young journalist. It's an
enhancement and a furthering of the novel, and brings to it the rich
maturity that the voice of the young aspiring writer had not yet
achieved. It is 'The Rum Diary' seen as Hunter might have written
it in his later prime. The stand-in for Thompson, the young
novelist-reporter Paul Kemp, is trying to find his way and his writing
voice . . . It's the birth of Gonzo.

Tiring of the noise and madness of New York and the crushing
conventions of late Eisenhower-era America, Paul Kemp (Johnny Depp
'The Tourist'), criminally exaggerated resume in hand, travels to the
pristine island of Puerto Rico to try his hand as a reporter for
a local newspaper. He lands a job at the San Juan Star, run by
downtrodden editor-in-chief Edward J. Lotterman (the excellent Richard
Jenkins 'Friends With Benefits'), whose at his wit's end running
a failing, diminishing daily.
As he interviews a hung-over Kemp, Lotterman quizzes him on what
kind of drinker he is, to which Kemp deadpans that he's at 'the
upper-end of social'. Kemp is befriended by staff photographer Bob
Sala (Michael Rispoli 'Blue Bloods', in a deservedly big part for
him coming from television), a burly, genial newsman who is nevertheless
not once seen with a camera in hand.
Kemp moves into Sala's dilapidated dump of an apartment, which
he shares with religious and crime reporter Moberg (Giovanni Ribisi
'Memphis Beat'), a horse-voiced, over-drugged oddity who listens to
Hitler broadcasts and sets some kind of record for caustic reporter-editor
relations.
Adopting the rum-soaked life of the island, Paul soon becomes
obsessed with Chenault (Amber Heard 'The Playboy Club'), the wildly
attractive Connecticut-born fiancée of Sanderson (Aaron Eckhart 'Battle
Los Angeles'). Kemp immediately falls for her, 'Oh God, why did she
have to happen?' he mutters after she swims to his paddle boat.
It's no wonder . . . Heard is stunning!

In a scene inside an afterhours club . . . the sound of calypso
playing and Heard intoxicated and in a haze of ecstacy, and dancing
very provocatively ... transported me back in time when I was working
in Puerto Vallarta. One night, out of many, at one of the hotspots that
catered to the well-to-do, tourists and locals, alike . . . . . . Sundance,
was this breathtaking blonde beauty, very similar to Chenault, who
exudes a level of sexuality that was driving even the women crazy with
heat.
Dominique was her name and she hailed from Mexico City, daughter
of the wealthy, light skinned Mexican Ambassador who married a
French-Canadian, he met while stationed in Ottawa. She came to spend
the summer in Puerto Vallarta.
The odour of deliberately enticing scents placed strategically on
heated bodies, the compelling darkness seducing me into pleasure's
secret promise, the sight of her scantily clad dusky jewelled body
dancing and gyrating.
Alone in close proximity, her hungry eyes locked onto my own thirsty
green eyes as she not so discreetly surveyed my tanned taut body that
radiated a manly heat she extracted from me and absorbed into her own,
as the connection was electrifying. I held her gaze and absorbed her
palpable sexiness and desire for me through the haze of our heat for
one another, and her leg lift like photons in love. . . Back to this
century . . .

Sanderson is a smooth manipulator, one of a growing number of American
businessmen who are determined to push through an enormous development
of a nearby, pristine island to convert Puerto Rico into a capitalist
paradise in service of the wealthy . . . that's pushing locals out.
When Kemp catches his attention and is recruited to spin the development
favorably in the Star, the journalist is presented with a choice: to
use his words for the corrupt businessmen's financial benefit, or use
them to take the bastards down.

The picture of American corruption of Puerto Rico is one of the more
compelling aspects of 'The Rum Diary'. A combative atmosphere between
poor locals and rich Americans hangs in the air, as do the Navy bombing
tests on Vieques. Depp is again in the Caribbean among pirates. Sanderson's
slick, wealthy appeal is tempting to Kemp, who isn't finding the
constricting Star to be an especially noble pursuit, either. Combined
with the allure of Sanderson's beautiful fiancée slowly builds for Kemp
into a moral crisis and, finally, an artistic tipping-point.

'I don't know how to write like me,' he says, but by the end of the
film, it's clear that Kemp/Thompson has found his legs. The guiding
principle is a furious distrust of authority (we glimpse him cursing
Nixon), and a key ingredient is hallucinogens (we also get an early
encounter with LSD).

You might expect a tribute such as this to be sycophantic, but director
Bruce Robinson (famous for the brilliant cult film 'Withnail & I') keeps
a realistic tone. Robinson, who also wrote the screenplay adaptation,
has not directed a feature lenght film since 'Jennifer 8' (1992). He
doesn't present the cartoonish Thompson we've come to expect. It's a
refreshing, grounded view of the writer.
Depp, at this point, would seem to not be aging. This more low-key
performance as a Thompson alter-ego feels truer than the manic derangement
of 'Fear and Loathing. . .', Hunter S. Thompson went on to find his voice.

* From Where I Sit!
www.fromwhereisit.co
November 5, 2011

* Johnny Depp - 'The Rum Diary' (2011)