A is for Ass
I know. You barely know me and here I am being all potty mouthed. Sorry about that. This particular ass was sitting four rows behind me at a Lyle Lovett concert a few weeks back. And despite the numerous warnings and pleadings to not take flash pictures, she snapped away willy-nilly throughout the concert. The flash on her camera has a range of about 30 feet. We were a good 120 feet from the stage. She was basically taking pictures of the backs of our heads. One would have hoped that given the ubiquity of digital cameras, that she would have noticed her repeated and somewhat dedicated failures to capture Lyle Lovett on her camera’s LCD screen.
B is for Book
A Kindle is not a book. A Sony reader is not a book. A book does not have to be plugged in. A book involves paper and ink – there is a tactile past, present and future in a book. When I am on page 73, I can see the pages I have read, feel them, and smell them if I want – they have a physical presence in my world. I can easily and lovingly grasp the journey I’ve been on. And the future is there in the following 300 pages. I can see where I’m about to go. The present? Well, that’s page 73, about the middle – the section where Sarah decides to leave the Mormon Church and take up drinking whisky – I’ve got a piece of paper torn from my journal as a book mark. There is pleasure in this “knowing,” for me. I find joy in this tactile journey as well as the emotional/cerebral journey hidden in those strung-together words.
Don’t get me wrong. I like change. Change is inevitable so why not cozy up. And I think the idea of toting around 1,500 novels in a Kindle or Apple’s iTablet (or whatever it will be called) is brilliant but books are the superior media. The fonts are crisp and clean and easy to read, always. Not so for the electronic books. Reading a book is rarely hard on your eyes. Not so for the electronic books. Books are low-maintenance. They do not require plugging in. Books don’t have screens that can get scratched. I can read a book in the bathtub without worrying about being zapped. I can read a book in a swimming pool in Mexico or in a hot tub at my sister’s house. The printed page continues to be the superior media.
C is for Craig, as in Craig Ferguson
Because he makes me laugh. Because it seems like he’s just making it up as he goes along, and still, he makes me laugh. Because it doesn’t always work and these occasional failures are so utterly and uncomfortably “real.” And, because he uses the word “boobies,” often.
D is for denouement
That about wraps it up! (Oh, I’m not done? Really? I have the rest of the alphabet to go? Seriously? I’m going to need coffee, or wine…or a dram of whisky.)
E is for Espresso
I try to have an espresso, in a ceramic demitasse, at least once a day. Espresso in Styrofoam or paper cups is just wrong. I’m going for an espresso now. You should join me. It’s snowing so you might want to grab your coat. I’ll be across the street in that little Italian café, at the bar. I’m wearing a blue shirt and a black suit coat with a grey-black-white pocket square. Hurry; you’re buying.
F is for fishing
Had a long conversation about ice fishing with my brother-in-law. (Admittedly, not everyone is going to know that in Canada, the lakes freeze over in the winter and people go out on the ice, drill holes and fish. They will often drive their cars and trucks out onto the ice. Sometimes, when the ice gets too thin, and people drink too much, cars and trucks will sink into the lake. Funny, actually, as long as it’s not your car. Anyway, some Canadians go ice fishing. There.) So, my brother-in law talked. I listened. And I was fascinated. Ice fishing, for him, is a meditation. There is ritual and reverence involved. There is honour and integrity and a profound living in the present moment. I remain astounded. Perhaps Buddha nature is in all of us. Perhaps we are all Buddhas.
G is for “go”
Going to Mexico tomorrow. Mayan Riviera. Really. I am. I’ll be back in a week. Meet me down on the beach. I’ll be there at noon holding a copy of Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet and wearing a straw, stingy-brimmed hat that my wife hates. I’ll buy you a drink. Well, all the drinks are free so maybe you can buy?
H is for Hoyo de Monterrey (Short Corona)
The thing I love about smoking a cigar every now and then is that you basically have to tell the world to go to hell while you do it. It’s almost impossible to do something other than smoke the cigar. You have to stop. This nice little Cuban cigar (5 inch, 42 gauge) is a recent find. It’s a subtle, gentle smoke – complex flavours – but not pushy. This cigar is like the “pinot noir” of the Cuban cigars, for me. I had been gravitating to this cigar’s flashier cousin, the Romeo Y Julieta Escudos but the Hoyo de Monterrey has won me over.
I is for Irshad, as in Irshad Manji
Ms. Manji wrote "The Trouble With Islam Today: A Muslim's Call for Reform in Her Faith". This book is in my top three reads from last year. A devastatingly articulate and well argued glimpse of modern-day Islam – and more. Courageous. Unnerving. Insightful.
J is for Jean Pierre Lépine fountain pens
Apparently, Jean Pierre Lépine is a direct descendant of several generations of manufacturers from the French High-Jura. Taking a craftsman's pride in his work, he seeks to combine tradition with innovation. J.P. Lépine writing instruments are produced in small production batches, by craftsmen in Jean Pierre's workshop. I have an Indigo Classic Fountain Pen (champagne) and I want more. It’s the best pen I own.
K is for kindness
“My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.” -- Dalai Lama
L is for Lama, as in Dalai Lama
Yo! Lama! I’m a fan!!
M is for Mackenzie
Mac for short. My nine-year-old daughter. We have, on occasion, joked with her about her abbreviated name – “We named you after a computer,” we will say. “Really?” she’ll ask. And then a picture of her as a young woman sitting in a therapist’s office talking about her name flashes in front of my eyes…and I wonder who’s paying for this therapy and I know it’s going to be me.
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