Our Lady of Perpetual Hell

Thanks to a break in the weather (after a few days of snow-then-rain-then-snow-then-rain-then…), yesterday I was able to maintain what has become a Christmas Day tradition over the past three years: I went out for an afternoon run. This was my first Christmas Day run along the lakeshore, and the view was awesome.

The ice buildup had happened seemingly overnight. These are pictures of the same stone groyne at the end of the street by my house (meaning that is my beach, although I don’t think I feel like going for a swim at the moment, thanks anyway), taken right before Christmas and then again on Christmas Day.

Lots of people were out for walks yesterday, enjoying the unexpected sunshine and calm. I like to get out on Christmas Day to break up the long day of battling overindulging. While I am out running I am not eyeing that plate of Mom’s shortbreads on the coffee table or that three-foot-long box of chocolates sticking out of my Christmas stocking. I am not thinking about the turkey and dressing and smashed potatoes that lie ahead. And, yeah, if I go out for a run on Christmas Day, I feel slightly less guilty when I inevitably reach for the platter of turkey a second time later that day.

I awoke this morning to the sound of rain hitting the roof. It didn’t last long, though, and so I decided to go out for another run today. I don’t normally run two days in a row, but yesterday’s was very short, so I figured it wouldn’t do any harm to go again today. This time, I decided to try out my new pair of ice-grippers. Having heard mixed reviews from fellow runners, I didn’t know what to expect of them, but figured they were worth a try for the measly $10 they cost. They’re rubber and steel and slip on. While it will take a few tries, I think, to get the spikes positioned so that my feet are neither pronating nor supinating when I plant them, I was pleasantly surprised by their performance today. I found myself purposefully seeking out the ice and snow to run on–which, previously, I would have done anything to avoid! I didn’t feel nervous on the slippery surface at all. I was even able to use the (unplowed) offroad trail which has been impassable for weeks. And this is the first time in recent memory when I wore my iPod but didn’t turn it on. I loved the sound of the crunch-crunch-crunch as the spikes bit into the ice and snow. Out on the trail, it was all I could hear–aside from a dog barking off in the distance–along with my breath chuffing out in steamy puffs.

The past few weeks have been unusually stressful but all of that fell aside on my run today, when I was in the moment in a way that I have not managed in a long time. It was a good reminder that that is where/when I need to be all the time.

All things (read: “my history”) considered, what would Christmas be without an appearance by Shane MacGowan and Kirsty MacColl and their cheerily sodden “Fairytale of New York”, hmm?

Miraculously, Shane is still alive and will be celebrating his 51st birthday tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Shane! Happy Birthday, Baby Jesus!

Nostalgia seems to be the theme of my life recently. Fitting, then, that I post a Christmas song (a medley, actually, in this case) by Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet. When I was picking through my 7″ singles for something to illustrate this post, I discovered that I still have the t-shirt transfer that came with “Explosion of Taste”. I wonder if it would still work… (I also had the version that came with the Jiffy Pop. I seem to vaguely recall I actually tried to eat the stuff one very drunken evening. Alas. Prolly tasted like vinyl.) See those shadowy men behind Brian, Reid, and Don in the photo? I decorated my basement apartment on Jarvis @ Isabella with a series of those guys on the walls. I think it was originally for a party and then I just left ‘em up. When I worked at Wheels, Reid and Don–both such sweeties–always brought in an extra for me when they were putting up posters for their shows and those went up on my walls too. That apartment was Shadowy Chic. There were many sweaty, beery nights spent at Shadowy gigs in the back room of the Rivoli. Ah, memories. Those guys put on a helluva show. R.I.P., Reid.

From their album, Stocking Stuffer…

Last month, my friend Kelly and I took a drive over to Royal Oak to a special screening of Bruce Campbell’s new film, My Name is Bruce, and the first line of Variety’s new review of it exactly echoes my own comments about it to friends. I’d call it a love-letter to his fans: fanboys and fangirls will adore it; others will scratch their heads. The audience at the Main Theater swooned.

See the trailer in HD here.

BC was at the screening we attended and did a funny Q&A afterwards. (That, technically, is when I was doing my swooning. Hubba-Hubba Ho-Tep.) People have posted clips of his post-screening Q&As from all over his mini-tour with the film at YouTube. While sound is good, picture quality is pretty iffy on most but here’s a decent one: