On the porch at midnight
I’m on my porch
the only light on a dark block
everyone’s asleep
but me.
I’m sitting here, thinking of you
and you, and you, and you
the seasons we shared
the ways we populated
the seasons of each other’s lives.
Pulled each other up
nurtured our roots
or let them anguish
or over-tended
or put in effort in when
things were rotten from the start.
I breathe in
the empty night into my too-full heart
and remember
who I used to be
when we met
when we met
when
we met
the days, long gone now
years and years
entire lifetimes ago.
Nobody tells you when you’re young that everybody changes.
Or maybe they
do but we think
we won’t
we’ll stay
the same
friends forever.
Lovers for always.
Nothing changes until it does.
Someone told me once that you can’t take everyone with you and I didn’t believe them
Ubers pass on the street over
and I wonder if you’re in one
but you’re not
so I leave the lights on for you
and I make my way to bed
alone
but just for the moment.
Sunset
I'm standing outside in my leather jacket with the mink fur collar
watching my breath leave my body as the moon rises over the river
and the lights starting to turn on in St Boniface Hospital
vignettes of births, deaths, heartbreak and hope
reflected on water that's getting darker.
It's been a while since I've been here, thought of you
remembered the feeling and fleeting way that your smile
made me feel
my hand stuffed in your pocket for warmth
our prints mixing with the rabbits and deer and the geese and the crows in the snow
while the cross on top of the hospital glows like a beacon.
Friday off
I took today off because we had someone in fixing our boiler and because I haven't had any
meaningful
downtime where I haven't been wiped from
hosting a party
or prepping for a party
or working
in weeks.
I woke up late compared to usual
(just after 8 instead of between 7-7:30)
and pulled out pork neck bones from the freezer and an onion and a cup of sliced mushrooms
and set them on a rolling boil on the stove which has been going since 9 AM and won't be done until 9 PM tonight as per the recipe I'm following.
(I'm trying my hand at making homemade tonkotsu ramen broth.)
The guy who came to fix the boiler arrived around 9 and left an hour ago and mostly left us alone while he worked
except at one point where he asked me to "bleed" the rad
(which is where you turn a node and let out any air that might be in the system; we'd been having issues with the radiator in our third-floor bedroom not heating which is why he was here)
and when I did a bunch of smelly, sludgy black water spurted out all over me and the wall
which is how I knew he'd solved the problem.
While he worked I kept an eye on the ramen, since you have to keep topping up the water every 30 minutes or so
watered the plants
finished re-setting the house after putting away the last of the Halloween party decorations
and finished the book I've been reading.
It's called "Ghosts" by Audrey Niffenegger and I've been reading it since the end of September and had planned to finish it before Halloween, but
y'know, life
plus it's 450 pages which isn't long but is long if you only have slivers of time here and there to dive into it.
When I bought the book from the McNally Robinson at The Forks I didn't look closely enough to realize that it's actually a collection of her favourite ghost stories and not a series of ghost stories she wrote
which turned out to be a wonderful surprise.
I've always liked ghost stories and explorations of death
(I'm morbid that way I guess)
and while some of these stories were creepy, most weren't.
(Those were the ones I liked best.)
As I was lying on the couch reading Toulouse crawled on top of me
settled in a little cranny between my arm and the back of the couch
kneaded my hair, purred and drooled a bit
(which is a bit gross but I love him so I put up with it)
and eventually fell asleep on top of me, transitioning from a gentle purr to slow, soft breaths, so I lay there after I'd finished the book with my eyes closed, listening to him breathe and feeling his soft little frame pressed against me.
He's 11 now which means when I tell people how old he is they go
"OH"
which makes every day with him extra-special.
It's almost 2 PM now and I've got my eye on my inbox but I'm not expecting
(read: hoping)
nothing else comes in.
No work worth doing happens late on a Friday most weeks if you ask me.
So I'm sitting at the dining room table, writing this, listening to the soup pot boil and smelling the ramen broth I'm making
and the muffled sounds of John upstairs on a work call.
Earlier I listened to an interview we did with our pal Jim Agapito for CBC Manitoba about Christmas decorations.
Yesterday I had coffee with a girl I used to work with when I was 19, at The Province, another lifetime ago
after that we went to Devil May Care and I saw more friends and did some work, and we went to a ramen pop-up hosted by a chef from Japan with Luke and Jen
and then Luke and I hung out and watched Moon with Sam Rockwell, which is one of my favourite movies.
I saw it at The Globe Theatre (RIP) when it came out in 2009 and listened to Clint Mansell's OST while writing papers in university.
Yesterday was perfect and today's been perfect and in a time where life has felt
dark and chaotic and hard
a few days of small, lovely things has been exactly what I've needed
(and that ramen broth is gonna kick so much ass.)
I'm going back to therapy
I feel stupid even writing this or feeling like I need to say it out loud because I advocate for people to go to therapy
ALL
THE
TIME
but when it comes to my own wellbeing of course that's the thing I'll neglect to the point where I feel like I'm barely keeping it together.
Somehow I've slipped into a place where even the best of days
the biggest business wins
the smallest things that used to light up my world
don't register anymore.
I feel numb and disconnected from my own life and the
many
many
many reasons I have to feel good.
I run a successful company that pays people well and that allows me to live a great life.
I do work I enjoy and I get to do value-driven projects and partnerships that make a difference in my community.
I travel to places where I get to stuff my face with tasty food and have experiences that a lot of people never even come close to having.
I have a partner who loves me
friends who love me
family who loves me
and people in my extended social circle who care about me
but none of that makes a difference. Every day I wake up and wish I was still asleep
(except the nights where I have nightmares and wake up having a panic attack)
or that I wasn't even here
at all.
It's like I'm gaslighting myself about my own life and I feel so awful and stupid and like such a
burden
because of this.
Like why can't I get my shit together?
Why is everything so hard when it doesn't have to be?
Why can't I just stay fixed and stop needing to get someone else to help me glue the pieces of Me back together?
I feel like I let myself down
like I let the people I love down
and like I'm letting my business and my team down because I'm so
so
scared that talking about how hard things have been will impact my business somehow
even though it's the only place I've been able to keep "showing up" lately and tbh I think that's one of the only things keeping me on-track.
But I'm a writer
and writers gotta write, even when it's scary
(maybe especially when it's scary)
so here are the words that say
I Am Not Ok Right Now
but I'm working on it.
Obby Khan is a Sellout
Today my band, Big Trouble in Little Wolseley, put out a new song.
It's a cover of a Less Than Jake song called "Johnny Quest Thinks We're Sellouts" and ours is called
"Obby Khan is a Sellout"
because he is.
Obby Khan is a politician from Manitoba, where I live, and during the pandemic the Provincial Conservative government announced that they were giving out $1.5 million in grants to support local businesses since many brick-and-mortar stores couldn't stay open during the lockdowns.
Obby Khan was awarded $500,000 of that money to fund what is basically a delivery service for local items called GoodLocal.
But GoodLocal never really helped anyone. Most businesses had e-commerce set up already.
Later that year, Obby Khan ran as a PC candidate and got elected.
Earlier this year he made the news again by claiming he was shoved by Wab Kinew, the leader of Manitoba's New Democratic Party (NDP) even when video evidence showed that it never happened.
Obby Khan is 6"2 and Wab Kinew is 5'7, but apparently Obby Khan is "scared" of him
(which is really just a racist dog whistle that perpetuates the "scary native" persona the PCs are trying to paint him with since Kinew is Indigenous)
it's gross and disappointing to see someone being such an obvious lackey to a government that is refusing to negotiate with nurses, that's closed ERs, and is playing into far-right rhetoric about "parental rights" like the Republicans are doing in the States.
Obby Khan is a sellout and doesn't deserve to represent Manitobans
and that's what this song is about.
Enjoy and if you live in Manitoba, don't forget to vote so we can kick these
racist
bigoted
corrupt
losers out of office.
Brunch in the city
On a patio with fairy lights and plants hanging overhead
Nestled at a little table for two, just for me
Between a dad with tattoos on his arms and salt and pepper hair
(When did parents all start to look my age?)
talking to his son about zombie games
“You gotta get the sniper rifle, Dad! Otherwise you can’t take ‘em down in one shot”
and a couple debating a career change.
“I’d love to teach music with Bruce but I also want a job that pays
so I can, y’know
buy stuff.”
Clinking of spoons on the same ceramic coffee cups you find everywhere
A staple of every diner or slightly dive-y restaurant or bar.
The air smells like Clamato and Tabasco sauce and peameal bacon.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been alone for this long,
Away from my city, from my man
I forgot how easy it is to blend in and just
listen.
Absorb.
Be a bystander to other people’s lives.
Little universes playing out over plates of waffles and over-easy eggs.
Winnipeg Fringe 2023
Image via Tourism Winnipeg
One of my favourite things about summers in Winnipeg is the annual Fringe Festival. I love the theatre and the huge variety of independent productions that come through the city each year, so when I was offered a handful of media passes to check out show shows in exchange for reviews here on the blog, you know I jumped at the opportunity.
In true "Shaner summer" style, I'm barely in town this week and am only able to attend four actual days of the two-week long festival, so starting last night I launched into an intense few days of plays, writing, and hanging out in the beer garden.
What follows are the plays I've seen, my thoughts, and recommendations intended to help you make the most out of your Winnipeg Fringe experience:
Let's dive right in:
The DnD Improv Show
I briefly thought about writing a more in-depth review about this show, but if you know you know.
Just pick a night and go see it; you won’t be disappointed.
The Sidetrack Bandits
Presented by: The Sidetrack Bandits
I was actually supposed to see the opening show but had to work (ugh) so I was thrilled when we managed to find time on Thursday night to catch this hilarious sketch comedy show, especially considering that it turned out to be their third sold-out show this season.
This was actually my second time seeing this group perform (I saw them at last year’s Fringe) and to say that they stepped it up is an understatement. The amount of slapstick comedy was like something out of a Charlie Chaplin movie — there’s one scene in particular where two of the cast members were trying to “save” another cast member from drowning in a flash flood where they basically threw him around like a limp, flailing Gumby.
There were several stand-out skits, including one where a teacher is trying to interpret what her Gen X students are saying in their internet lingo that made me feel both very cool (for recognizing all the lingo they used) and very old (for the same reason), but the highlight of the show was a song sung from the perspective of a little boy who can’t wait to grow up.
Highlighting the naive optimism of a young kid who can’t wait to be in charge of his own life, it’s a stinging and ridiculous reflection of how maybe being a grown up isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
(Except for days when you bike around hopping from Fringe show to Fringe show. Days like that are what make being a grown-up so great.)
This show made me laugh so hard I started crying — make sure to get your tickets for the last few performances before they’re gone!
The Smallest Stupid Improv Show
Presented by: The Improv Company
Longtime Fringe goers probably recognize this title as a nod to the eponymous “Big Stupid Improv Show” and this performance by improv actor (and our pal) Stephen Sim is a unique, intimate, and (of course) hilarious nod to it.
“The Smallest Stupid Improv Show” is a solo improv show that highlights Stephen’s ability to not only think fast on his feet, but to do so with the same charm and wit that any of us who have seen him perform have come to expect.
Based only on audience suggestions, Stephen wove together a completely brand new, never-before-seen story that managed to connect scientists looking for asteroids, a military official visiting a high school gym, and a lonely, bored asteroid hurtling through space.
It’s truly a one-of-a-kind, hilarious show that showcases Stephen’s range and ability as an improv actor, and it’s all backed up by an improvised score by DJ Hunnicutt who was performing live for the first time since losing his sight, which made the performance extra-special.
Six Chick Flicks Or: A Legally Blonde Pretty Woman Dirty Dances On The Beaches While Writing a Notebook on The Titanic
Presented by: Kerry Ipema and TJ Dawe
Besides being a mouthful to say in its entirety, this play is a must-see for anyone who has a deep love of cheesy clicks but struggles to come to terms with how women are portrayed in some of the most iconic “chick flicks” of our age.
One of the things that impressed me the most about this show was the speed with which performers Kerry Ipema and KK Apple run through the plot and characters of each movie, all while providing a searing critique of things like logical inconsistencies (of course perm knowledge in Legally Blonde will always apply to all of Elle’s cases!) and regressive feminist policies (of course Baby is only “Baby” until she gets sexually freed and, by extension, grows up through the male gaze and influence).
An excellent observation punctuated throughout the play was the reference of the “Rose Effect”, which refers to Kate Winslet’s character in The Titanic, pointing out that her character was clearly written by a man because a) she’s totally fine posing nude for a complete stranger, and b) has an orgasm the very first time she has sex.
(All my ladies will be able to appreciate the total absurdity of that experience, I’m sure.)
Jokes aside, an especially poignant moment was when they talked in depth about the havoc that unsafe and illegal abortions wreck on women’s lives (à la “Dirty Dancing”, of course) which felt important and timely considering the recent overturn of the ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court.
As someone who has been fascinated with how movies and culture shape society’s expectations of what “being a woman” is like since I first read Anais Nïn as a teenager, this quick-witted and hilarious romp through some of the biggest cinematic influences of our time didn’t disappoint. Definitely don’t miss this one!
Broadway at The Blue Elephant
Presented by: 7 Ages Productions
As the title suggests: if you love musicals (which I do) then this is the show for you.
My mom actually chose this show as “our” Fringe play of the year, and I was over the moon at the chance to sit and experience some of Broadway's most poignant pieces about love.
Contrary to a big Broadway stage production, “Broadway at The Blue Elephant” is a concert presented as an intimate performance featuring some of the most iconic songs from hit musicals across the years. It’s a simple, stripped-down, heartfelt performance that emphasizes the lyrics and emotion of each song and reminds us as an audience that the power of the human body as an instrument is the most poignant part of a song.
From “I Dreamed a Dream”, to “Send in The Clowns”, to “Some Enchanted Evening” and more, musical theatre aficionados will appreciate the love that has clearly gone into these performances (and some might even make you tear up a little bit — Mom and I definitely both got a bit emotional!)
The vocals are impeccable, the performances are moving, and “Broadway at The Blue Elephant” knocks it out of the park.
Barry Potter and The Magic of Wizardry
Presented by: Dirk Darrow Investigations
Confession: this is the play I was most excited to see at this year’s Fringe. I’ve been obsessed with the film noir-style “Dirk Darrow” series over the years and was super excited to see that Tim Motley is back with a new character and a whole new slew of magic tricks.
Motley appears onstage as a middle-aged Barry Potter (who for some reason is still wearing his Hogwarts robe) who describes himself as a “down on his luck wizard who peaked at 17” who now tells stories to Muggle audiences using a blend of comedy, magic tricks, and mentalism.
Even though you don’t need to be a Potterhead to enjoy the show, those of us who grew up reading or watching the Harry Potter series will definitely enjoy the jokes and jabs made at the expense of the wizarding world.
Delivered with the same cheesy, smarmy attitude that made me fall in love with the Dirk Darrow series years ago, “Barry Potter and The Magic of Wizardry” is a hilarious and engaging show.
The Family Crow: A Murder Mystery
Presented by: The Pucking Fuppet Company
I try to check out at least one puppet show at every year’s Fringe, and I’m so glad we picked “The Family Crow” — after all, how could I say no to a play that describes itself as “Puppets! Puns! Murder!”?!
The other puppet shows we’ve seen have been more like puppet shows, but this one had a more Jim Henson, The Dark Crystal-esque feel. Between the strategic use of the lights, shadow, and an unbelievably articulate series of movements, this play draws you in and leaves you both intrigued and gasping for air (mostly because of the really silly puns).
Described as “a puppet show for grown ups”, the performance consists of ____ in a caw-stume (see what I did there?) essentially acting out a one-man performance while reciting the story of how a murder has been committed in the mansion of the Family Crow, and how now it’s up to Horatio P. Corvus, Sorter Outer of Murders to crack the case.
Jam-packed with more puns than I thought could possibly get stuffed into an hour-long show, this performance is a masterful example of puppeteering and an excellent example of bringing a unique and creative vision to life.
The Murky Place
Presented by: Subscatter Productions
I’ll be honest: while I love watching contemporary dance, I don’t always feel like I “get it” and that can sometimes take me out of the experience as an audience member because I get caught up trying to make sense of the performance instead of just enjoying it.
Fortunately, this wasn’t the case with “The Murky Place”, a series of three contemporary dance premieres from Oriah Wiersma, Alex Elliott, and my friend Kayla Jeanson.
Set to soundscapes crafted from recorded memories, violin, and Icelandic lullabies, the performances manage to draw you in and leave you almost breathless in some cases. This intimate pantomime of the human experience explored through three different perspectives was as moving as it was intriguing.
The show starts with Oriah Wiersma’s slow, intense build up set to recorded memories and interpreted with tense, staccato movements that leave you almost breathless.
Up next is Kayla Jeanson’s performance, set to lilting violin which builds into a personal, intimate, grasping of self that feels like she’s fighting against herself and left me nearly in tears.
Finally, the show ended with Alex Elliot’s performance. An interpretation of an Icelandic lullaby which she started developing during a residency in its country of origin, the performance works its way from an almost claustrophobic binding to a slow, acute series of movements that leave you on the edge of your seat.
“The Murky Place” was a beautiful and haunting exploration of self and is definitely a must-watch.
Field Zoology 101
Presented by: Shawn O’Hara
I went into this play totally blind (my brother picked it as our Fringe show to check out together) and while I got the sense that it would be a silly romp, I don’t think I was quite expecting the level of crass humour and hilarious, deadpan jokes that this performance delivered.
As an audience, we find ourselves in the classroom of Dr. Bradley Q. Gooseberry (Shawn O’Hara), who strides out in a tilley hat, cargo shorts, and a totally-not-fake moustache. The performance is essentially a John Cleese-style monologue amplified by drawings shown on an overhead projector, giving it a real “classroom” feel for us 90’s kids.
As a class we collectively become zoologists by taking a pledge together, and then we settle in to learn about burning nature-based questions like: what are the beauty secrets of peaCOCKS (his emphasis)? Or what’s the virility of a tiger?
While some of the jokes definitely fall into the cringey so-bad-they're-good category (a which I love) one of the best parts was the improv section where Prof. Gooseberry answers questions about animals written down by audience members in advance, showing off his impressive improv skills.
I’ve seen a lot of comedies at the Fringe over the years, and Zoology 101 was one of the best I’ve seen. I literally laughed until I cried.
So while you might not walk away with a deeper understanding of (most of) the animal kingdom from this play, you’ll definitely walk out with a smile.
A big thanks to the Winnipeg Fringe Festival for the opportunity to review some plays and get the most out of the Fringe experience this year!
We can live like Jack and Sally if we want
It's Friday and I'm sitting on the porch in the shade
slivers of sunlight warming my feet
it's finally hot again; real July weather
the dry smell of a Manitoba summer hanging in the air.
Judy is down the street, tending to her garden
perennial flowers and shrubs
unlike mine, which are mostly edible perennials
fiddleheads and rhubarb, blueberries and two types of raspberry
three asparagus plants
chives with flowers we put on our omelettes in the spring.
Around them we've planted bleeding hearts and
hens and chicks and foxglove
delphinium and silver mount and stonecrop
and milkweed to attract the monarchs
(which I saw today and tripped over my chair rushing down to get a snap before it flittered away like a burst of fiery orange light across the neighbour's yard.)
Growing up I dreamed of a space like this
a porch wide enough for glasses of wine and games of cribbage
and my laptop so I can work and write and watch the world go by.
As a girl I lived on an street that later became a thoroughfare for a new development but in the 90's was a single street with two back lanes and ditches and
huge, sprawling fields on either side
I would sit on the hill at the end of the dirt road or stand at the edge of the train tracks and
listen
watch
to the frogs and the crickets and the grasshoppers
(which I barely see here in the heart of the city)
sing cacophonous songs about the seasons.
Now I practically live out here in the summer, perched on a chair with a drink or a jug of water
with a book or my phone or sometimes with nothing at all
sitting alone and soaking up the sounds of the neighbourhood
my downtown oasis in a city fuelled by cars and wide roads and construction.
The hum of the bees, the the kids down the street.
It's not the same, but
perfect
in a different way.
Buppy
"I love you" you say, and I echo it
watching my soul borne raw through the screen
my heart built up through ones and zeroes
we've done this dance countless times
hundreds, thousands, maybe
since we were young
staying up late
with nobody but each other.
When we first met I resisted
steeled myself against you
but you crashed like a wave into me
washed over my grief and sorrow
drowned them in jokes, kind words
and a sense of home I'd never known before.
I didn't know how to love, then
or maybe I just didn't know how to love someone back
who loved me for all the
fucked-up, miserable mess
that I was.
For years I pushed everyone away
believing I deserved to be unhappy
to be alone
(and maybe for a while I did)
but even when I thought I'd succeeded
you never really left.
"Hurt people hurt people"
I said
years later, up late again
dissecting our past like an experiment
peeling back the epicardium
you cradling my four-chambered heart in your hands.
"I know babes" you said, and I cried
because even when we didn't have the words, then
you knew that I loved you, needed us
despite myself
and here we are.
A ghost just needs a home
it's mid-afternoon and I'm sitting on the couch with the window open
drinking oolong tea and
watching White House Plumbers
and working on some business stuff.
Last night we went to Art City's annual fundraiser and danced like crazy
spent time with great friends
caught up with acquaintances
and bought some art
then we came home, put on some music
and stayed awake until the sun came up.
It's been a long time since we've done anything like that.
This is the first Art City party since the Before Times
and it feels like all the old, cool stuff we used to do is firing
back up
all the familiar strangers coming out of the woodwork
dressed in the gaudiest,
most mismatched clothes they could find
(the theme of last night's party was CLASH DANCE)
to dance and laugh together in a big old
Winnipeg warehouse.
Yesterday we cleaned up the garage and Will came over for a bit
and had a beer with us while we swept and organized and threw stuff out.
After he left we BBQ'd steaks
made wedge salad with blue cheese dressing
and cracked a can of beans
(my favourite)
and ate it in the backyard while the sun went down.
Friday night we ate schnitzel, pickled cabbage, and potatoes
over beers and laughs with Koop and Christel
and after dinner when we were sitting in
the front yard around the fire pit
a neighbour from up the street came over
just to say hi.
It's been a nice weekend.
