(To activate the soundtrack, scroll down and press “play” now)
Today was a full-on spring-to-summer day with temperatures around 26-28ºC. To celebrate, I spent the better part of the afternoon on my balcony which faces the alleyway and all the other neighbours doing the very same. Unlike my next door neighbour, whom I decided to hate many years ago because she’s perpetually tan and skinny, I was NOT wearing a swimsuit—but it was nice to be able to go out in just shorts and a t-shirt. I made some headway on my Paul Auster Novel, then gave myself a manicure/pedicure while watching over Mimi who was dying to escape beyond the boundaries I set for her. Here we refer to this kind of activity as “balconville” which literally means “balcony city” but actually refers to a whole city block or neighborhood of people who more or less live on their balconies on warm sunny days; sunning themselves, yapping loudly with the neighbours, screaming at barking dogs and kids, painting their toe-nails while wearing curlers-type-thing and of course making good use of the BBQ so they hardly need to go inside, other than the occasional trip to the toilet and to fill up on cold Pepsi family-sized bottles—the lifestyle of the poor and anonymous as seen right here in St-Henri*.
If there’d been a soundrack for the day, it definitely would have featured plenty of great jazz standards. As it happens, I’ve been growing my Jazz collection thanks to iTunes lately and (re)discovering some of the great Jazz masters who made their mark in the 50’s. I’ve been a fan of Miles Davis and John Coltrane for quite some time now, though I can’t say I like all their work; the young cats-chasing-balls-of-yarn sound… not so much to my liking. I like my jazz with a melody—so tonight Clifford Brown with Strings should do nicely. Would have been nice to post Joy Spring in keeping with the seasonal theme, but this double programme with Yesterdays and Memories of You should do nicely too.
* I’ve taken artistic license here. Many of my neighbours are actually young yuppie families and various professionals, so there’s not so much yapping and screeching going on across the alleyway, but I’m sure that a little further West from here, where all the really poor people-on-welfare are, you’ll find the exact same scene I’ve describe here, sweaty, burned, overexposed bodies and all.