Marcel is going fishing today. It’s hot and muggy outside—oppressive, even, like governments and traditions. But Marcel is always able to make the best out of a bad situation. He removes his sticky leather jacket and places it on top of the public telephone box. Then he scrambles up the side of the box and sits cross-legged, the metal studs digging into his thighs. He pulls a piece of thread from his pocket and strings a dirty McDonald’s cup to a stick he found in a nearby park. With a rotted-teeth-bearing grin on his unshaven face, he casts the cup into the river of people rushing along the sidewalk. He dangles it in front of wealthy tourists, hurried commuters, happy children who smile back at him before their parents drag them away. Marcel doesn’t want their pity; he merely wants their loose change, and perhaps some recognition for the cleverness of his panhandling.
Sorry, I guess this isn't really a story. It's more like an impression. Oh well. Montreal was awesome! I'm going to write all about it in the not-too-distant future, but let's just say it was full of partiesfoodbeerstreetfestivalscircusartistsstreetartbarsmicrobreweriespoutinefrenchrockbandsbadassery. There you go. That was pretty much it, in a nutshell. :)
To tide you over, here's a picture of me in old Montreal:
Tonight I'm going to the Black 'n' Blue Ball at Martyrs'. Should be oodles of fun. You should come if you're in the Chicagoland area.
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