Along with George Michael’s Faith & Older on this mp3 collection is : Hutch (Leslie Hutchinson): The Ultimate Collection – Grenada-born singer and musician was one of the biggest cabaret stars in the world during the 1920s and 1930 – a friend and lover of Cole Porter; Love Is A Drag: For Adult Listeners (Lover Man); Elton John: Blue Moves (Sorry Seems); Flash & The Pan: (Walking In The Rain); Rexy Spice; Arsenal. A cd that spans generations, styles, continents & levels of queerness.
I was not a Wham! fan. They are a great pop group but too pop for me. Michael’s life, to me, is more compelling than his music not that his music is of no interest. His lyrics took one a more ‘spiritual’ turn as his career progressed. It was cool to have this out gay equivalent to Justin Timberlake, though Michael was more creative in the long run. I enjoy these albums & I am sad that fame killed him.
I heard about Hutch (Leslie Hutchinson) from a BBC series about British Black History. The host visited spots, neighbourhoods were noted but forgotten black people had lived or performed. I was intrigued by Hutch’s sexual reputation which, as the time, only enhanced his reputation. The Ultimate is a fun, sound quality is decent, his voice pleasant & the songs are the best of the period by the likes of Cole Porter (with whom Hutch had an affair). Good music by someone seemly forgotten about in gay/bi history.
‘Love Is A Drag’ is a fun, fine 60’s collection of nightclub/show tune torch/love songs about men sung by a man. I came across an article about this lp being reissued & downloaded it from iTunes. The songs are given ‘ordinary’ direct performances – no mocking or sexualizing – at the time this was sold in the backs of magazines & was considered very out there. Another fine piece of queer history.
Elton John’s navigation of being out has been a benchmark, role model for decades now. Blue Moves a great double that I enjoy & it’s hard not to listen to his pre-out catalogue for signs – but he was merely the singer not the lyricist. An example of the universality of human emotions – love is love regardless of gender or sexuality.
Flash & The Pan’s Walking In The Rain with the lyric ‘Feeling like a woman/looking like a man’ highlights a great power pop album of songs. Grace Jones does a good take on this song but I prefer this original. Rounding out this trip though queer music history is the contemporary Rexy Spice – a Toronto folk/punk/protest rocker. His ‘Arsenal’ is a great look at what non-mainstream (i.e. Adam Lambert) queer music can be – funny, energetic & thoughtful. A modern day Cole Porter worth hearing. Highly recommended.
There was this noise on the balcony. A heavy shifting of weight, like a body falling, dropping, as if someone falling had reached out and caught the edge of the balcony and stopped their fall & heaved themselves over the rail and into the folded lawn chairs I had no where else to keep in the winter. I wanted them near at hand in case I ever had company. Wishful thinking, I know, but it says to be prepared for the best.
I turned down the TV. I could heard the wind. A rustling of something, not leaves too late in the year for them. Tentatively I went to the window and looked. Half expecting it to be one of those fright movie moments when a distorted face would be peering back at me of some sort of alien entity that tumbled from a UFO to my balcony.
I saw nothing. As my eyes became accustomed to the dark I could make out a clump of something green plastic. Was that fucking a garbage bag? Had someone tossed their trash over their balcony & the wind blown it onto mine.
The living room light didn’t illuminate the corner it was in. I got my flashlight and went out for a closer look. The wind was as cold as a January wind would be. I should have put on my gloves. It wasn’t a bag but a bundle-like a sheaf of papers or old towels. The wind making it move like it was alive. Like something alive was wrapped in it.
I reached down to it. I heard a small moan. Pulled my hand back.
“You’re doing great Dan.” Baxter came out from behind Cliff. “I dropped by to see how things were going.”
“Thanks.” Dan said. He wasn’t going to let Baxter know how difficult it was to stick to the ‘script.’ “I feel for this guy.”
“If you care then the viewers will too.”
“We were just getting to these.” Dan gestured to the photo album. “After all, this what you’re really paying me for.”
“Thats’ right the photo whisperer.” Baxter snapped his fingers. “Fuck that’s a great title of the show. What do you think? Better than East Coast Cold.”
“I think we can take this outside.” Stephane said. “Without our help the back porch has a postcard view onto the orchard. The sun is amazing. It’ll give the viewers a real feel for the location. Kitchens are fine but this is even better.”
“Too bad we can’t have apple pickers in the back ground.” Dan joked. “Or cows. It is still a dairy farm isn’t it?”
The back porch floor boards creaked underfoot.
“Not too noisy?” Dan asked “You’re going to sit out here.” Stephane said. “Not do a hoedown. These chairs’ll be perfect.”
There were two rocking chairs on either side of a small round table.
“I’ll see if I can find a couple of pillows for them, something for the backs too, so they won’t look too rural. Come with me.” she said to one of the crew. They went back into the house.
“Where did our Dad go?” Baxter asked.
“Last I saw Cameron was on his trail.” Dan put the photo album on the table.
“Anything in there?” Baxter asked.
“Haven’t looked yet. Or have you planted something?”
“Us? No! We might set the scene little to make it easier for our audience to get a feel for the location. But that’s it.”
“This is part of setting the scene, right.” Dan pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Did you supply his shirt as well?”
“Just yours. Looks good on you.” Baxter reached out to help.
“Not going to happen.” Dan swatted his hand aside.
“Okay! Okay!” Baxter stepped back.
Mark came around the corner of the house with Cameron walking beside him.
“I’m ready. Like I was saying it’s been ages since I really thought about those days, this month’s when all this happened.”
“It can’t be easy,” Baxter put his arm around Mark’s shoulder. “You’ll never forget.” He guided Mark to one of the rocking chairs. “But maybe this can help put some of those … ghosts … to rest.”
“That’s what I’m hopin’.”
“We all set to continue?” Baxter called into the house.
It took another twenty minutes to get the camera to rest on the porch, to get the furniture staged to Brenda’s satisfaction. Lace doily for the table. The redistributed weight of cameras and crew kept the floor boards from creaking as much.
“I’ll leave you to it.” Baxter said. “I’m heading on to the next location.”
“So there are some photos of the children you’d like me to see?” Dan asked.
“Yes.” Mark opened the album. “They were taken just a few days before, you know.” He handed an envelope of photos to Dan. “We didn’t have them developed for months later. We forgot we even had them, you know.”
Dan turned the pictures over one at a time.
“They were taken at Ma G’s birthday picnic. There’s a mess of people there I hardly remembered. Over a hundred. All her other nieces and nephews.” He leaned over to pause Dan at one picture. “That’s me and Marie.”
“She’s very pretty.” Dan peered the photograph. “Too bad it has that matte finish though. I never really understood why people liked this grainy quality.” Mark was smiling at the camera with Marie leaning on his chest in front of him, her head on his shoulder. She was holding her hand out so the two of them could see something on one of her fingers.
“I’d won some sterling silver ring with a real opal at the circus the day before. Some spin and win game.” Mark laughed. “The ring turned her finger black and the opal fell out when she was doing the dishes.”
“You both look happy.” Dan said. “That’s Madeline reaching up?”
“Oh yeah. She was always one for attention. This is one of the few pictures without the kids all over us in it.”
Dan looked at the pictures. There was nothing in them beyond being photos of a fun family time. He reached for the album “What else do we have in here?”
“Not much really. We weren’t picture takers. Might hav been if we had a camera an’ time to use it. Then you just saw were taken by someone else at the party. Some wedding pictures. Baby pictures of Madeline and Gerrard.” He handed the album to Dan.
Dan opened to the middle where there was some loose prints. He recognized them from the back as ones his Dad had taken.
“Hey! School picture day.” He said turning them over.
“What a day that was.” Mark said. “Marie spent the morning trying things on. She settled on that daisy dress Marie made for her.”
Dan hadn’t seen any of his Dad’s school pictures since they had moved from the east coast. There was no mistaking the backdrop his Dad carted from town to town.
“It’s the same one she was wearing when she … left us.” Mark said.
There was a large version of the picture as well as a page with four wallet size picture. Gerrard’s had the same standard set. The pictures were crisp. Gerrard had a lopsided grin, dark curly hair and scar on the cheek under his left eye. They didn’t tell Dan anything though, nothing new, nothing might lead to more. They were relics not clues.
“These were taken that summer.” Mark said.
“It was after school was finished for the year?”
“Nope. It was the last week of classes. There are a couple of the whole class too.”
“What about the scar on Gerrard?”
“Happened when he was about three. Fell. Climbing trees. He was a climber. Love ladders.”
So, his Dad had had some contact with these children. Like Timmy Dunlop. But he wasn’t in the area when they disappeared. Was he?
Dan tired to remember the dates in his Dad’s travel notes.
“The worse of it was later though.” Mark went on. “When things quieted down after the searching didn’t find anything. When we stopped being suspects. We hadn’t heard about them other kids either. If we’d known maybe they wouldn’t have thought was us. The neighbours I mean. They acted as if we’d done it. That’s what did Marie in.”
“Let’s take a break,” Stephane said. “There’s fresh coffee from Tim’s for you Mr. Forestier. Not as strong as what I made.”
Mark went into the house.
She took Dan aside. “What was with those school pics?”
“Nothing.” Dan said.
“You changed when you looked at them.”
“I did? My … There were taken my father’s company. James Scholastic School Photos.” He didn’t want to come out and say that they were taken by his Dad personally.
“They did that all over the Maritimes in small places like this. Class pictures, weddings, funerals, banquets. That sort of thing.”
“He surely wasn’t the only one doing that, was he?”
“Probably not. I recognized the paper. The pose was one of his favourites as well. Not quite staring into the lens so they’d look less like mug shots and more like kids who just didn’t want their pictures taken in the first place.”
“So you recognized those kids?”
“No! He took thousands of these. Used to send them away to get developed then began to process them himself. I’d help out in the dark room.”
“Can we get back on with this.” Mark Forestier said. “I do have things to do around here.”
“Sorry.” Stephane said.
They sat back on the porch.
“When was Ma G’s birthday?” Dan asked to get the interview going again.
“About a month before they …”
“Was there anything else going on around at the time.”
“There was the Agricultural Fair in St. John. I went on my own. We used to take the kids but they were at an age where they took too much attention when I was wanting to see about dairy stuff, they’d want to be doing something else.”
“What do you think happened to them?”
“They was took and …” he began to sob. “I never wanted to think about what happened. I wanted to think about them being brought back to me. I’d dream Ma G was at the door with Gerrard wrapped in a blanket to keep him warm, with his face covered and Mad hiding behind her because she felt bad about letting them get lost. I’d try to move the blanket so I could see his face. But it was too wet for me hold. It would slip out of my hand. I had that dream for months.”
“Did your cousin keep you informed of what the Mounties were doing?”
“Not a bit. He said he wasn’t supposed to talk much to me to keep from influencing things. Conflicts of something.”
“Conflict of interest.”
“Yeah. He didn’t help us much. Like no one ever said to us they were sorry about what happened. Just to be hopeful. Hope didn’t keep Marie alive, you know.”
Who knew that investing in protective face mask manufacturing would be as profitable as investing in pharmaceuticals 🙂 Along the Danforth nearly every nail salon, dry cleaners, ethnic grocery store, tailor, corner store even takes outs are selling them – some making them or claiming to or that their masks are locally made. I’m waiting all those charities that send me endless unasked for Christmas cards to start sending masks.
The range of styles, fabrics, patterns & layers has certainly increased so one is longer ‘stuck’ with black accordions. Some are fixed ear loop, some adjustable, some head loop. I prefer the ear loop, for now. I’ve bought masks locally, ordered them on line, even from Amazon & most have been good. The Old Navy was a good price but some turned out to be single layer – so I have to add my own extra layers.
DIOP has a great, African print selection if you are daring. (https://weardiop.com/). Afrisocks also makes great bold masks. (https://afrisocks.com/) Rather than, as some feel, being the latest in mass control, the mask can become another way of self-expression. Besides offering mutual protection from covid they will also cut down on the spread of colds & flus – which may affect the the sales of NeoCitron 🙂
I’ve started posting a Facebook pic each day of the mask I’ll be wearing (if needed) that day along with where I bought the mask. I am powerless over this virus, over the way anti-maskers & such choose to deal with it, but that doesn’t mean even when wearing a mask I have to mask my personality 🙂
This ‘M’ is a all about old school sweet soul music & disco with a dash of funk. This mp3 collection starts with MFSB: Love is the Message, Summertime, The Gamble-Huff Orchestra; (Soul Train) The Whispers: And The Beat Goes On; The Temptations: Masterpiece; The SOS Band: On The Rise (Just Be Good To Me); Mtume: Juicy Fruit (expanded); Oliver Cheatham: Get Down Saturday Night; McFadden & Whitehead: self-titled Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now.
Many of these have songs I remember from the dance floor but were groups I was not familiar with. Some where introduced to me on Tumblr. MFSB is 70’s while the rest are 80’s. The songs are in some ways interchangeable with lyrics about universal love, dancing & the power of having a good time. Ain’t No Stopping Us now has become a ‘no more shit’ anthem you can dance to.
MFSB: mother father sister brother- is a group of studio musicians plus The Three Degrees. This known as the Sound of Philadelphia – strings, funky bass lines & romantic. The Soul Train Theme is theirs – show that I don’t think I’ve ever seen, mind you, but the Philly sound is/was everywhere at one time. Some of the albums are concept lps – the soul equivalent of The Moody Blues. Masterpiece by The Temptations flirts with the Philly sound but sticks to its Motown roots. Political & spiritual Masterpiece lives up to its name.
The Cheatham was used in the movie “Ex Machina” – the video was of a cute guy (Oscar Isaac) dancing with a female – one of them is an android. It made me want the song & an android Oscar Isaac 🙂 Many of these songs are used to establish time era in films, or on TV. The sound – strings, singers, electronic keyboards are enough to do the trick as opposed to the fame of the song itself. Apparently many have been become sample mainstays for hip-hop.
If you want a real boost of old-school good-times any & all of these are worth adding to your collection.
Jen sat at her desk and reviewed the facts. Body found. Peter Manonotti. Noted, mouthy, city councillor who had hopes of even bigger political opportunities. He was making a name for himself in transportation. Insisting on accountability. Found dead in a public washroom of his bête noire – the TTC. Officials state it was heart attack but no one knows how he got there. Not seen on security camera – though the image was so grainy who knows. Lots of men seen coming and out. Someone lucky police officer was now watching it in slow mo to count heads as they go in and out. There was nothing distinctive about what Manonotti was wearing making it harder to find out when he was there.
He left his office at 4 p.m. the day before. They did have a shot of him going through the turnstile at King station at 4:15. So they knew that time. If it was just a heart attack why where they so intent on tracking his movements.
So far no one was talking or saying anything more than it was a medical situation not a crime. How long had he been in that booth. The dates and times made it appear at least 24 hours. Didn’t anyone clean those stalls overnight? Could some one actually be in one of them for thirty-six some hours and not have been noticed. Yes, there was more to this than the public was being told.
Stephane quickly introduced Dan and Cliff, the camera person for this interview, to Mark Forestier the father of Madeline and Gerrard the first children reported missing.
“I’ll let you two talk a few minutes,” she said. “We won’t really start shooting for about half-an-hour. Brenda is still setting the kitchen for the real interview.”
As she left Cliff stayed behind with his shoulder mount camera aimed at Dan and Mark.
“She said we’d be alone?” Mark asked.
“Yeah, yeah. But this is to get you used to being on camera. After awhile you’ll forget I’m here. Trust me.” Cliff explained.
Dan shrugged apologetically. “They never say what they mean. You’ve lived here all your life?”
“Yep. Place has been in the family since I don’t know when.” Mark began. “Once was more of it though. You know parts got sold off over the years till this is all we have fer now. Was the biggest daily farm in d’region. Now all been took over by the big corporations. You from around these parts?”
They walked around the yard with Cliff following them.
“Born in Cape Breton.” Dan said. “Moved to TO when I just a kid.”
“So yer da’s from here too?”
“Yes. My mother too. She was a McPhee from Dartmouth. Then she met my Dad.”
“Marie was a Beaudroux. Her mom was from Dartmouth.” Cliff sighed. He pulled a small flask out of his coat pocket and took a long swig. “She died a few years back. Never got over the loss of the kids, you know. Even though we had another she was never the same. Left me, you know. Blamed me. Wasn’t my fault, you know.”
“You understand? What the fuck do you think you understand?” Mark looked away from Dan. “Weren’t your life, was it.”
Cliff camera followed Mark’s head as it turned. He nodded encouragingly at Dan.
“No. I just meant that it must be hard to lose something, someone like that.”
“We’re ready for you.” Stephane called to them from the back door.
They went into the kitchen.
“This such a great room Mr. Forestier. Big and bright. You must cook up a lot of great meals in here. I hope you don’t mind we moved a couple of things around for better lighting.”
She sat them at a wooden kitchen table with a bowl of apples in the middle of it. There was photo album beside the bowl.
“I made you fresh coffee. Should be better than Tim’s. Hope it isn’t too strong. Now you don’t have to drink it, really, but take a stop every now and then to bring it to your mouth. It’ll make this more casual. How does that look?” She asked Cameron, the other camera man.
“Good frame.” he replied.
Dan sipped the coffee. He glanced over his shoulder and on the kitchen counter behind them there was a couple of green glass vases placed to catch the sun.
Mark fidgeted in his chair, took another long swig from his flask then settled down.
“Place never look this tidy.” He said. He leaned over to whisper to Dan. “Stopped usin’ it much of late. Only when Stacy comes over.”
“Stacy?” Dan glanced down at his notes. “Right your other daughter. The one you had after …”
“Yeah, we though it might help us get over things but it didn’t. Nothing helped.”
“Okay,” Stephane said. “We’re all set. Don’t worry about pausing to think we can edit all that out to make it smooth. You don’t even have to make sense.”
Dan took another sip of his coffee and looked to Mark for a sign that he was ready to start. Mark smiled back.
“Thank you for letting us into your home Mr. Forestier.”
“I wish I could say it was a pleasure but no one likes to reach back into the past for unpleasant memories. But if this’ll help solve what happened I’m willing to try.”
“How old were the children that summer?” Dan asked.
“Mad was nine and Gerrard was seven. They got along so sweet, you know, fer bother and sister, that is. She’d help with his school work even though he didn’t want help. We thought she was going to …” he hesitated, “to grow up to … ” he wiped a tear away, “ … to be a school teacher.” He started to get out his flask, stopped and took a sip of his coffee.
“Take your time.” Dan said. He wondered about the nature of memory. How would his Dad have described his relationship with his sister Linda? All he could remember was how distant she was when she wasn’t tormenting him.
“You have some photos of them?” Dan asked. “I’ve only seen these pictures.” He put copies of the Unsolved Cold photos on the table.
“That’s the sundress Marie made for her. Man she loved them flowers. Daisies.” He looked Dan in the eyes. “That was taken just a few days before … whatever happened happen. They had been down at Ma G’s.”
“Ma G?” Dan consulted his notes.
“My mother’s sister. She owned the farm over by ours. Raised me. More like a grandmother than an aunt. My mother died giving birth to the one after me.”
“They visited Ma G often?” Dan asked.
“They were always going over there when they could. Marie and I had so much to do around here, you know, we really didn’t have that much time to keep on eye on them every minute. Not that we ignored them or neglected them you know but we’ll … we let them run loose. That’s how I was brought up around here too you know. My folks had ten kids so there was always an eye on us anyway. You come from a big family?”
“No. There was just me and my sister. Unlike your Madeline, she hated to mind me. Came a time when she couldn’t even be bribed to baby sit me.” I was so happy when that torment ended.
“Ma G was happy to do that. It wasn’t that far a walk there fer them. Short cut through the orchard took less than five minutes to get there. The road’ll take twenty minutes, at least.”
“They didn’t take the shortcut that day?”
“Nope. If they had it might have been different, you know. But the rain had made the stream into a swamp. Heavy rain always did that. It’s since dried right up. Thanks to … well, that’s a different thing isn’t it. How modernizing hasn’t really improved things much.”
“About that day.” Dan saw that he was going have keep this interview on track. “You didn’t realize they were missing right away?”
“No, they often stopped overnight with Ma G. So often nothing need to said. Ma G didn’t take to the phone. Christ it was the 80’s right. Anyone without a phone was just stubborn. If she had one we might have found out sooner. Different these days with cell phones and such.”
“Once we knew that wasn’t here we got ahold of Dave down in Shediac.” “Dave?” Dan looked at his notes.
“My cousin Dave Forestier. He was in the RCMP there. They come over right away. Asking us lots of questions. Made me feel like they thought we knew more than we were saying. Making it seem it was our fault, or that we had done it. You know. Did away with our own kids.” He punched the table and coffee mugs bounced into the air. Dan kept his from spilling over.
“Sorry about that, still gets me steamed up. Dave was no help to us. Said those trained from the mainland felt they knew better than locals. I figure if they had done started a search faster instead of asking us questions and questions they might have found them. Gerrard was so excited about getting back to school you know. I can’t remember me ever being that excited about school. I hated it.”
“They didn’t find anything?”
“Nothing. No one saw them on the road or the highway or anywhere. It was as if those kids never existed. Except they did. I … it wasn’t until those Cold Canada people got in touch with me that I even looked at these.” He flipped open the photo album.
“Not that I forget what happened but after decades life goes on. Marie never did get over it though. She blamed me for trusting Ma G too much. What was I supposed to do? They’re both dead now too. Ma G died of grief I’m sure, before the end of the year. She never forgave herself. Never.” He got up from the table, yanked out his flask and drank. “I need to take a break.” Mark left the house. Cliff followed him.
The camera lights shut off. Ma G’s death was not in Dan’s notes. He knew Marie had died but there was nothing about the family after the disappearance. The part of picture you never get to see – where the people go after the wedding photo shoot.
It has been fascinating to go back into my past by reading & writing about this chapbook. Memories of writing the pieces have been fragmentary, to say the least. Motivation, inspiration & locations are more nostalgic than revealing.
Many old the first drafts were written by hand run little note books, many on my clunky typewriter in my basement room in the family home – that room is still there though I think it’s had new floor & walls since I left. The walls were covered with my paintings, shelves of books, lps, my stereo system & my little desk.
Some in my first apartment in Sydney. I shared a workroom with my roommate. He made pottery & I made poetry. I remember renting an electric typewriter to do the final drafts of Distant Music. That second-story apartment had a huge front balcony where I would sit & write in notebooks & drink. This was the first time I had a room for sleeping & one for writing.
Some of the poems are solid, some reflect the pop music of the time, the striving to be deep, poetic rather than … I’m not sure what ‘than’ … I wanted to impress as much as I wanted to express something about myself. I was in the process of coming out, letting go of the pretence that I was bi so the sexuality that appears in the work is very suppressed.
The sequence of the pieces was mine & the flow, in general is pretty good. Today I would probably have not started with the Dance but with something less abstract such as Woodsman – which would invite readers to search for the chainsaw wielder.
By Keith Jarrett I have box sets: The Impulse years: 73-74: 5 cds, 75-76: 4 cds. On 4 mp3 cds: Facing You, In The Light, Luminessence (Jan Garbarek), Arbour Zena, Ruta & Daitya (Jackie deJohnette), Bremen, Lausanna, Eyes Of The Heart, the Koln Concert, Staircase Hourglass Sundial Sand, My Song, Standards NY Sessions; as stand-alone: Yesterdays.
So I am a bit of a fan. I can’t recall which of his was the first recording I had it was either the solo studio work Facing You or the Live Bremen concert. Both excellent places to start if you are unfamiliar with Jarrett. This is jazz that moves into modern classical with such ease you can’t tell you’ve made the move. I had some of the Impulse years as lps & picked up the two box sets 2nd hand to replace them. They are all group work with bonus cuts added to reach release, Fine modern jazz that rarely crosses into aggressive disharmony. Not easy listening though.
The bulk of these are ECM with various sidemen. All are pretty much amazing as he explores orchestral work, various instruments: he plays, besides piano, organ, flute, sax. One of my favourites is ‘Ruta & Daitya’ with the great Jackie deJohnette. It is perhaps the most playful of all this work – fun & lighthearted. ‘Arbour Zena’ is meditative & soaring. There are no disappoint or bad Keith Jarrett recordings.
His later work are explorations of jazz standards & are great listening but lack, to me, the freshness of his earlier work. He’s also recorded classical word by the likes of Bach, Soshakovich which I have heard but not added to my collection.
Rounding out some of mp3 cds is work by: Jan Garbarek: Dis, Jan Garbarek/Egberto Gismonti: Sol Do Melo Dio: Garbarek is another ECM star with his ethereal sax. Dis is his work with a word harp. John Scofield: Hand Jive;: Scofield is a jazz guitarist & this set is kind of funky. Really funky is Special EFX: Party; A Jazziz sampler cd from Nov 1994
Another fine pianist is Andrew Hill: Hommage. Master jazz piano McCoy Tyner with bassist Stanley Clarke is excellent. Stanley Clarke”s Journey To Love is prime late 80’s jazz that I love – buy it. Another amazing bass palyer Christian McBride: Finger Painting. Roy Haynes with Booker Ervin: Cracklin’ – fine set of almost tradition jazz that swings. Finally Groove Collective: We The People, It’s All In Your Mind, People People Music Music – funky soulful less pop that Booker T not as jazzy as The Jazz Messengers – the sort of jazz that shows up for chase scenes in movies but better 🙂
Don’t Quote Me
Jen looked a the people hovering around the scene. She wanted to call it a crime scene but that wasn’t clear. Manonotti could have had a heart attack. Whatever the cause these are the people who would have been called to the location. Police, medics, TTC security. All making the morning transit even slower. Worst of all, no washroom. They had even taped off the women’s room.
She supposed that was some sort of precautionary effort. It was hard enough for the transit system to maintain some sort of positive public image as it was.
Jen knew the All News would want the story but she had to know what the story was. First she had to confirm who it was that was found. Her sister had been wrong before.
She approached one of the less busy, female officials. She had found women were often more cooperative with women. She quickly glanced at the officers name tag.
“Officer Fenton, I’m Jen Oliver with the All News News.” She showed her press card.
Dan sat in the lumpy armchair beside the desk. The blue leatherette cooled his back. What should he do first? He pushed his shoes off. That was better. Close the door? Nope, better leave it open in case the Corporal wants back in. Unpack more? They wouldn’t be there that long. In fact the first three interviews allowed for overnight stays and nothing more. No time unpack until they got to Stellerton. A shower seemed in order, but that would have to wait until he was sure the division was finished with him for the night.
He went into the bathroom. The towels were scattered on the floor and the ceiling tiles Sergeant Tyler removed where in the sink. At least there wasn’t a big black foot print on the toilet seat. The motel sofas were lime-pine by Tarsly. They didn’t smell too bad.
He plugged the powercord back into the laptop. No use running the battery down. The flash screen for the motel wifi came back on. Did he have to re-buy the high speed? Nope. He went to google maps, put in the motel name, searched for food delivery.
Only 3 places popped up. One that specialized in donairs? Dumphie’s Donairs. What was a donair? According the restaurant’s page it was something done to lamb – an east coast variation on Turkish dish. Why had he never heard of it before? Was it another of things hidden in his past? If he was going to re-immerse in the east coast a donair was as good a way as any. He place his order.
Corporal Coster came back into the room. “You know who that was, right?” She glared at him. “I don’t appreciate anyone trying to go over my head to make a fool out of me.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“Quintex should be more … forthcoming. Contacting the Force’s Public relations department would have been a smart move.” she said.
“Agreed. Not my department. I’m just a hireling.”
“With connections.” she said.
“Your tipster didn’t have access to the whole picture.”
“Perhaps. But thanks to your buddy, Inspector Warszawa, we have more of it.”
There was knock at the cabin’s screen door.
“Sounds like Sergeant Tyler is getting impatient. Newbie?”
“You could tell?”
“Been one myself. Lots to prove in front of the old hands.”
“Try to keep us posted of what’s going on.”
“Here’s the itinerary for the shoot while we’re here.” He handed it to her. “Subject to change.”
She read it over. “Ambitious. You got the sequence wrong though.”
“You mean the dates of the abductions. I know but that too isn’t my department. I go where I’m told. Their editors will make sense of it all. I’ll suggest they make someone a liaison with the local detachments.”
“There’s a Dumphie’s here.” Tyler annoucned.
“That was fast. Send him in.” Dan said.
“I’ll leave you to your dinner.” She left the cabin as the delivery man came in.
“Hi! Carol busting another grow op?” He asked her as she passed him.
“Not tonight, Jim. If we need to fill our quota I’ll put a tail on you.”
“Yeah, right. You can’t afford the gas the way I run around some nights.”
“See you around Mr. James.” She let the screen door slam shut.
Dan paid for the food.
“Something goin’ on out here?” the delivery man asked. “They don’t drop in for no reason.”
“Ask the Corporal next time you see her.”
The delivery man frowned. “Be that way.”
Once he was alone Dan levered the door shut and locked it. He untucked the bed and turned it down to air it out. There was nothing in his email to reply to. He went to his Lyfend storage to look over the pictures his camera had taken while he was in transit.
The Capture/Send feature was one of his favourite features of this model. With that setting he could have it automatically take pictures every five seconds to five minutes and send them directly to his storage dropbox. Hands free photography.
Depending on where he pinned the lens it was as good as any bodycam and less obtrusive. Plus his storage box was bottomless.
The shots at the Pearson were clear but cluttered with people. He sorted them all into the No file. The ‘No’ meant they wouldn’t show up every time he checked his storage. The same with his flight though he did keep a couple of the handsome father and son getting into and out their seats a few rows ahead of his.
His eyes quickly tired so he stopped looking at things. They were still recovering from the set to he’d had with John Kilpatrick at the Depot. He had used the drops the ophthalmologist had prescribed a few times then stopped. The swelling had done fast enough and his vision was clear. The hour of resting his eyes in the dark was impossible. He’d been lucky to manage ten minutes each time.
He could never find a place where an hour of silence was possible. The apartment at the Depot would have perfect if no one knew he was there. He refused to shut his cell phone off in case he missed a call for his lawyers who had been dealing with Sanjay’s demands for some sort of palimony when he realized Dan was serious about ending their relationship and pulling the plug any financial support. He had another lawyer handling the split of James Photos so the Depot and the FairVista location were independent of each other in all matters.
The naming of names was one of the contentious issues. Linda wanted full rights to James Family Photographers and Equipment. Dan was willing to drop the James from the Depot signs and advertising. He’d been calling it simply The Camera Depot’ for last couple of years. But he wasn’t willing to change the name of his personal business -Daniel James Documents and Photograph Restoration. If she had the right to capitalize on the James name for her business so did he.
It was the contractural complexity of the Lyfend relationship which named him as their sole North American agent at the FairVista location. FairVista was focused on exclusivity which Lyfend offered. The FairVista lease was with James Family Photographers not Lyfend. Did he need yet another lawyer?
He could smell something in the room & remembered his Dumphie’s Donair. He took the styrofoam box out of the bag. The pita wrapped sandwich was in silver foil which he unrolled & took a bite. He had to hold it over the box to keep the sauce from dripping on his laptop.
Not too unpleasant he thought stepping into the shower. He’d have another. Maybe he’d enjoy the shoot more than he expected.