These are the text messages I sent my wife Rachelle on Monday:

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Me: Yep.

Me: Dropped Jones off at daycare and am now at the polling station getting ready to cast my vote for mayor!

Me: No.

Me: Mayor McCheese is not on the ballot.

Me: It is a shame. Not only is he VERY experienced, but he’s also delicious.

Me: I agree, we do underestimate taste when it comes to appraising our candidates.

Me: I think Doug Ford would have been a buttery mayor, like wagyu beef.

Me: John Tory? The current mayor? Beef jerky.

Me: He looks creepy. Desiccated and plastic, like if you bred a dry roasted peanut with a Ken doll. Looks like somebody from Blue Rodeo who suddenly got really, really old!

Me: No.

Me: No, that’s not a “dig” at Jim Cuddy.

Me: All I’m saying is that his opponent, Jennifer Keesmaat, has aged pretty well.

Me: What?

Me: Look, all I mean is that she looks as good now as she did 15 years ago. Let’s smash the patriarchy and vote for her!!

Me: Oh.

Me: Well, when you put it like that I guess it does sound a bit like I’m going to smash the patriarchy by voting for a woman I think has aged well.

Me: And you think that’s wrong?

Me: Okay.

Me: Well, in my defence I knew JK back in the day.

Me: Didn’t I tell you?

Me: But look, I also like her transit plan. Very smart. And let me assure you, she’s more than just another pretty face! You should vote for The Keezer!

Me: A nickname I had for her.

Me: Oh, that was so long ago.

Me: Lava Life, I think.

Me: We only went out on one date.

Me: Went to Maine for a long weekend.

Me: Yeah, I guess it was a three day date.

Me: What did we do?

Me: Well, she’s a HUGE Stephen King fan so we went on a tour of his house in Bangor.

Otherwise, we just drank some wine, walked the beaches, talked policy. Stuff like that.

Me: Hunh!

Me: Hadn’t thought about that, but yeah, Stephen King’s house is my screen saver.

Me: Look, I hadn’t even met you yet!

Me: Rest assured, if you were running for mayor I would vote for you!

Me: You would organize the hell out of this city!

Me: You really would.

Me: And I LOVE the idea of making Toronto a Sanctuary City for all the lost animals of the world.

Me: You would be a way better mayor than JK.

Me: I would be a Russian bot for you.

Me: I would lie to congress for you.

Me: You wouldn’t believe how many laws I would break for you political ambition!!

Me: People would be screaming at me every  goddamn time I tried to eat out. You can bet your bottom dollar on that.

Me: It’s true. You are the fire with which I burn. You have all of me, my love, you always have and always will.

Me: Yes.

Me: Absolutely. You have my word.

Me: I will change my screen saver.

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Dear Bitter Writer:

I think that having the capacity to feel a broad array of emotions is a big component of being a great, great writer, like you are, and with that in mind I was wondering what the first book that made you cry was?

Igor

Igor:

This one is very easy.

The first book that made me cry was Horton Hears a Who!

Completely fucking terrifying.

Dr. Seuss was one messed-up guy, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he turned out to some sort of unknown serial killer. He’s like a Stephen King for children. You should fear him.

Anyway, I was probably about four when this book was first read to me, and I immediately understood that our world was no different than the speck of dust Horton was holding. Our lives– even those of Mommy and Daddy– were incredibly precarious and vulnerable, subject to forces we know nothing about and couldn’t even begin to imagine. At any second, all we knew and loved could just vanish into an unknowable abyss. I did not sleep for two weeks after the babysitter (Summer) read this stupid book to me, and ever since, I’ve been cursed by a deeply penetrating existential terror, one that continues to govern my days.

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Dear Bitter Writer:

You’re such an interesting and charismatic person, I was wondering if you’d share with us any literary pilgrimages you might have gone on?

Oscar winning actress Jennifer Lawrence

Jennifer:

Ha, so great to hear from you!

As far as your question goes, I’ve never been on a, “this is the cafeteria where Kafka ate,” or, “ this is the dungeon where Dr. Seuss used to torture his victims,” kind of pilgrimage. Instead, I think of each day as a literary pilgrimage. I go out with the conscious intent of finding a moment of beauty in the world, of discovering something holy, and then I try to recreate it using words. And so each day is a journey, a pilgrimage toward something sacred that must be worshipped. 

PS: Have you been getting my postcards? I have not heard back and was wondering if I was given the wrong super-yacht address for you?

PPS: I think you’re something sacred that must be worshipped!

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Dear Bitter Writer:

I just want to say how much I LOVED your brilliant book A VAN FULL OF GIRLS.

It is, and I hope this doesn’t embarrass you, the work of a true genius. Obviously, writing just pours out of you, but if for some reason you couldn’t be a genius writer, what do you think you’d do for work?

Taylor

Taylor:

Thank you for the kind, extremely perceptive words!

It’s hard to imagine a life where I’m not a writer, but if I were forced to live one by some alien over-lord or something, I think I would probably be a model. I think I could bring a lot to that job.

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Rachelle: Is everything okay?

Rachelle: Oh.

Rachelle: Well, I don’t know why Netflix would be down.

Rachelle: But you’ve already seen Making a Murderer three times.

Rachelle: Yes, your thirst for justice is unusually obsessive.

Rachelle: No, strong. I wrote strong.

Rachelle: Must have been autocorrect.

Rachelle: Well, you’ll just have to be be brave, my love, I’m sure Netflix will be up and running soon and you can return to your Making a Murderer studies.

Rachelle: But tell me, how is Jones doing?!

Rachelle: Oh, he’s such a strong, little boy!

Rachelle: Well, you can’t take your eyes off him, you really can’t.

Rachelle: You should always be looking for his left.

Rachelle: Look, he always hits you with his left first. It’s his plan.

Rachelle: It’s not a dirty plan. He’s just a sweet, playful little boy!

Rachelle: So, just so you remember: The left comes first. And then when you’re dazed and trying to put your glasses back on, he will hit you with the right and then start kicking. Both feet. Every time, Pickle. You have to prepare for it.

Rachelle: I know he thinks it’s funny.

Rachelle: Well, I disagree, sometimes a bleeding nose can be very funny.

Rachelle: I know you get nose bleeds from the blood-thinning medication you’re on.

Rachelle: Sure. It’s not because Jones is stronger than you.

Rachelle: Yes, it is entirely possible you could still take Jones in a fight, but I wouldn’t bet on it.

Rachelle: He has muscle definition in his back. Do you?

Rachelle: So, he’s sleeping now then?

Rachelle: And you fed and changed him?

Rachelle: What does he look like sleeping? Does he look like an angel?

Rachelle: I don’t believe you’re in his room.

Rachelle: I think you just made that up.

Rachelle: He’s not talking in his sleep.

Rachelle: Send me a photograph of him sleeping.

Rachelle: Oh, you’re very clever.

Rachelle: I know you got over 130 on an online IQ test.

Rachelle: Pickle, you tell people you meet at parties that. You tell everybody that.

Rachelle: Yes, you are a genius, yet you still can’t drive or hold down a job. It’s fascinating, that.

Rachelle: Yes, the wildly misunderstood genius community is subject to a lot of bullying.

Rachelle: You’d think all those geniuses would be able to band together and cast a spell, but I guess I just don’t understand how genius works.

Rachelle: What?

Rachelle: Jesus.

Rachelle: Look, there is no way that Jones’ Exersaucer is haunted.

Rachelle: Yes.

Rachelle: It is creepy that it plays music of it’s own accord, and only when you’re in the room, but I don’t think it means it’s the Exersaucer of a dead child.

Rachelle: Well, no.

Rachelle: I don’t know the history of the Exersaucer.

Rachelle: Yes, I did buy it used.

Rachelle: Yes, so in theory it could have been sold by a grieving family that lost their child to a possessed and murderous Exersaucer.

Rachelle: I must say, watching Making a Murderer so obsessively really has really made you a better lawyer.

Rachelle: Netflix is back up, isn’t it?

Rachelle: I thought so.

Rachelle: Just don’t watch the horror stuff, okay?

Rachelle: It’s not good for you. Your doctors said so.

Rachelle: No, your doctors do understand genius.

Rachelle: Look, just throw a blanket over the Exersaucer if its scaring you!

Rachelle: Okay.

Rachelle: I will be back in about half an hour. You wanted the low sodium Triscuits, right?

Rachelle: Yes, I got it, LOW SODIUM.

Rachelle: Love you, see you and Jones soon, you’re doing great! xoxo

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/toronto/toronto-tunnel-dug-by-2-men-as-man-cave-police-say-1.2978109

Ever since I was asked to leave my UFO Watchers club and Fantasy Hockey League, I’ve been kind of lost and having a really hard time filling my days. My wife Rachelle suggested that instead of just lying around watching Friends on Netflix all day, I get a hobby, and so I did.

Tunnel Diary: Day 1

The best thing about my Hobby Tunnel is that it really puts me in touch with nature. It’s really going to be more of a “Fun-nel” than a tunnel! It’s so nice being alone in the forest with my shovel. The trees are my friends and I think digging a hole in the middle of the woods is an absolutely great hobby! I mean, it’s fantastic exercise and inexpensive! And I’m not scared, cold or lonely at all. Nope, my mind never wanders to worst-case scenarios, and I doubt very much that the curious assemblage of twigs, branches, dismembered dolls and a candle over there has anything to do with satanic ritual. The wind probably just blew it there like that so it’s reaching out to me like a message, not an accident. Nature sure is funny!

Tomorrow I will bring my iPod.

Reminder: Make digging play list.

Tunnel Diary: Day 2

Bringing the dog with me as company and protection was an excellent idea. It’s nice to be able to spend some quality time with her and watch her do something that she really loves. It’s true, Dachshunds are amazing diggers and she’s scared away at least two squirrels! Good dog, Heidi, good dog!

It’s funny though, whenever she goes near the dead doll shrine at the big oak she starts to whimper. Actually, looks like there’s a new disfigured doll over there today, one with a little pet dog doll.

Reminder: Research satanic rituals and voodoo.

Tunnel Diary: Day 9

All I think about is the tunnel, about how when it’s done it will be exactly like a long, narrow grave for many squirrels. How many squirrels? That’s a good question. Maybe 300, but it depends on the squirrels.

The trees have voices. My iPod cannot drown out the tree voices. Some trees like to share bad thoughts.

Tunnel Diary: Day 18

Today I killed a squirrel that strayed too far into our territory. It was a cleansing. I suffocated it with a zip lock baggie I had left over after my snack. (All the shoveling and tunneling really works up an appetite) In the wild you must learn to use anything you can to defend yourself and complete your mission. My grave tunnel will fit 666 of such purified squirrels, the exact number the trees require, and then the mission shall come to darkness.

Reminder: Remember to pick up tetra pack of white wine for tonight’s Game’s Night.

Live, his songs become crazed, feral creatures. Having broken free of their studio imposed straightjackets, every piece he plays becomes bloodthirsty, an unpredictable, ever escalating apocalypse unto itself. Honest to God, his shows are as much of an assault as they are anything else, and you always feel a little bit like you’ve just born witness to a terrible crime.

Bent and crouched low at the edge of the stage, his black-clad arms waving and pointing to the summoned crowd, Cave was a spidery prophet. The stories he imparted all carried danger and urgency, more condemnation than warning. It was primitive, as if shadows of incredible passion and horror were being cast angrily upon the wall, and there was an utterly brilliant, almost supernatural feeling to it all.

Behind him and singing in support of all this was a small choir assembled from grade 5 and 6 students at a public school here in Toronto. There’s really no conceivable way that they could have known anything about Nick Cave or had a clue what they’d gotten themselves in for when they signed up to sing with some pop star at a downtown concert hall, and I could not stop imagining what was going through their heads. It must have been traumatic and nightmare-inducing, like seeing a train, gloriously in flames, skidding off the tracks and shuddering toward you at a million miles an hour, while you, pitifully, tried to pedal away on your bicycle.

Astonishing, just astonishing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pdau-45Rpxc

(Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds performing Stagger Lee in Montreal March 22, 2013)

staggerlee

(My brief 10-second video of him performing the same song in Toronto the next night. Note the bad seats.)

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R: Oh Pickle, I just saw the worst thing!!

R: A man jumped from the Lawrence overpass onto the Don Valley Parkway and I saw his body, pinned underneath a pick-up truck. Just horrifying.

R: Sorry?

R: Oh, I see, your lunch was horrifying.

R: How sad for you that you had to eat the leftover lasagna I made the other night.

R: You’re very brave to endure such brutality.

R: You’re right, I should call it Pink Slimeasagna.

R: Regardless, imagine being behind the wheel of that truck, seeing a man jump and then running over him? Good God, that person will never be the same.

R: No, I don’t mean the person who jumped.

R: The driver.

R: No, I am NOT taking video of it!!

R: It would be awful for the driver to live with that, it would be a life-altering event.

R: Ha-ha. Yes, I’m sure that my leftover Pink Slimeasagna was a life-altering event, too. You’re very funny today, dear.

R: You had a coffee, didn’t you?

R: Sorry?

R: Well, I had never thought about it until now.

R: I suppose driving over a person who had just committed suicide would be more traumatic than seeing a UFO abducting a cow for probing.

R: How would you know?

R: Oh, that’s right, you have lucid dreams!

R: And in these lucid dreams you see UFO’s and drive over suicides?

R: I see.

R: Right, right, Night Time is Mike Time.

R: Did you really have that printed on a T-shirt in high school?

R: Very cool, I bet you were very popular with the ladies.

R: Sure.

R: Yes, I know, you were good at sports, too.

R: Now tell me, back in high school when Night Time was Mike Time, did you wear a Breathe-Rite strip to bed?

R: A Lucid Dreaming sleep mask.

R: It all makes sense now, you know.

R: Me?

R: I could dunk a basketball in high school.

R: And I had many lovers, some of them black, black as the night, Pickle.

R: I’m not being racist. I’m just stating a fact.

R: I never told you this, but I had a baby, a black baby.

R: Because I gave her up for adoption.

R: I was young, that’s why.

R: Her name is Jada.

R: Her father?

R: We haven’t seen one another in months, but we’re Facebook friends.

R: I think he knows about you.

R: Yeah, I think so. Maybe.

R: Not sure.

R: What does he do?

R: Well, he won Survivor: Fiji, but he’s really an entrepreneur, philanthropist, producer and advertising executive.

R: He looks a bit like Marvin Gaye.

R: But that’s all in the past!

R: You wrote a letter to Erin Collins from Survivor: Thailand?

R: You admired her grit?

R: Did she ever write back?

R: Oh, that’s too bad, Pickle.

R: Tell me about some of your high school sweethearts!

R: Oh, well I’m sure playing the field was a very good strategy for you.

R: Yeah, keep your options open.

R: What was high school like in the 50’s, anyway?

R: Okay, see you soon, xox

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1. Furmer sur le banc (1984)

This brilliant French film follows the life of cab driver Henri Beaumont as he ferries customers through the streets of Montreal during Guy Lafleur’s astonishing 60goal season as a star winger on the Canadiens. Divided into sixty, two-minutes segments, the hockey game on the cab radio (Lafleur scores in each one) serves as the connective tissue between Henri and his passengers as they talk about life. Stylistically innovative, the movie is by turns funny, intimate and revealing, a precursor to the popular show Taxi Cab Confessions. (Cameo by Guy Lafleur at the end.)

2. Chinese People (1949)

Directed by Alfred Hitchcock, this little known film blurs the line between racist satire and disorienting sexual fetish. Hitchcock has never been more exposed or vulnerable in his craft. Starring Jerry Lewis.

3. Amish Furniture (1969)

This Swedish drama takes an unflinching look at suicide and the aftermath as it settles on an unsuspecting Amish community. Soundtrack by Jimmi Hendrix.

4. Incident at the White Tower Motel (1972)

Directed by Japanese master Kurosawa, this stands as the greatest horror film ever made. Watch for a young Jamie Lee Curtis in the bear pepper spray scene.

5. Star Wars (1977)

Directed by George Lucas, this science fiction masterwork reinterprets the bible and features a gay robot dressed in gold lame. It changed movie making forever.

6. La Sangre de la caza de la polla (1958)

Director Octavio Getino explores the often-dark relationship between man and chicken in this classic example of Spanish neo-realism. He paints a brutal, even savage portrait of cockfighting, but still, we empathize with the cock wranglers and marvel at the nobility of the cocks themselves– a troubling film that will stay with you long after your viewing.

7. Dingleberry (1934)

This silent film follows “Dingleberry,” an optimistic and naïve dog, as he travels through America during the Great Depression. One of the most remarkable social documents of the country ever made.

8. The Underground Railroad Disco Party (1977)

This film, a dazzling mix of Blaxploitation and Documentary, mines the history of the disco movement, showing us the political background that informed the music that is all too often thought of as little more than a hedonistic spasm. Explicit nudity throughout, it’s a movie that film critic Pauline Kael famously described as “boner-inducing.”

9. Chico y el frijol   (2008)

This piece of magical realism centers on the tempestuous relationship between a Latin truck driver and his  headstrong girlfriend as they wind their way through the unpredictable, often surreal landscape of communist Cuba. Uproariously funny, with a brilliant performance by Sean Penn, this film transcends the road movie genre, lifting the audience up into profound and sublime precincts rarely encountered in cinema.

10. Game of Poems (2003)

This expertly crafted Michael Bay movie follows the lives of three poets as they vie for a $500 grant. Each story– that at first seem entirely disconnected–all come together in a rising and unexpected crescendo. It’s a taut, stylish thriller. (4 hours and 23 minutes)