Salbowski

Quite Dashing

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Jehnny Beth + Julian Casablancas – Boy/Girl

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Salad Days

I held up a forkful of lettuce and stared at it, terrified.

This was my first salad in 16 years.

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Montreal Stinks

I once thought my wife was part greyhound.

“Do you smell that?” She’d ask me, pointing vaguely at some unseen presence. “It’s horrible. You really can’t smell it?” She’d insist, like someone having a nervous breakdown. Her borderline supernatural sense of smell has, in her mind, forever linked entire cities with odors and stenches: Florence (dog shit), London (urine and beer), Barcelona (sewage), Paris (car fires). My nose has never been strong enough to refute her (it may be for decorative purposes only), so I’ve often wondered if she was right. Could cities have a signature scent?

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CAPTION THIS!

My grandfather has lost his hearing.

Not one to let us forget, he likes to say, “I have no idea what you people are talking about,” any time we have a conversation within five feet of him. It’s possible he’s still just getting used to this relatively new handicap, but I think he also likes to remind us of his plight.

Initially, we went to great lengths to try talking to him, shouting and enunciating like coked-up over-actors. “What are you talking to me for? I’m deaf for christ’s sake!” He said. We’ve since discovered an easier way to keep him entertained and occupied: closed captioned television. For the better part of a decade, he has read everything he has watched on TV.

I’ve decided to spend the next 12 hours watching closed captioned TV.  Read more

Bribing a Family Doctor

I have a family doctor.

I haven’t been able to say that for 20 years, and the fact that I can makes me something of a rarity in Quebec.

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Notes From Key West

Getting to Key West involves driving in a straight line, with water on each side (the GPS display will show a long line surrounded by blue), for three hours. For most of it, there’s only one lane in either direction, which means you’re often forced behind the same car for long stretches. I got stuck be a dusty pickup with a “Stand Up For America, be American!” bumper sticker.

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An Immodest Proposal

Turn onto Mont-Royal from St-Laurent, and you can see it, that gloomy, melancholic phallic symbol thrust up into the air. Continue moving east, and it gets harder and harder to avoid, looming over streets, potholes and crumbling infrastructure like a proud father. From a distance, then, Montreal’s Olympic Stadium is a success; it is the Eiffel Tower-like structure that former mayor Jean Drapeau hoped it would become.

Look a bit closer, though, and cracks start appearing.

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