Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – December 23, 2005

To gauge a stranger’s appeal and what will in turn make you attractive to others at home, in the workplace and out in the city in the New Year, you have to look beyond the usual indicators-money, repute and power.

To figure out if someone digs you, or to decipher the suitability of someone you’re eyeballing, in 2005 ask yourself the question: “If I were a chicken, would people want to eat me?”

More than a measure of your own tastiness, the question will get you thinking about the quality of those around you. Chances are, if you know what makes you a healthy option for others, you’ll know what to look for and how to select a fit and fabulous choice for yourself to enjoy the whole year through.

Are you the kind of chicken who suffers de-beaking, gets crammed into a tiny cage among your decaying dead brothers and sisters and fed artificial food? Whose every artery and birdbrain is soaked with adrenaline as your featherless body shifts in a flight-or-fight response aboard transport trucks, preparing for your inevitable doom at the slaughterhouse? Or maybe you’re like an Atlantic salmon, smacked up on the pharmaceutical equivalent of goofballs-pumped full of growth hormones and antibiotics unnatural to your regular habitat?

Given the choice, wouldn’t you want to be a free-range chicken that roams the open wild like Peter Fonda, with strong, succulent Lance Armstrong chicken thighs and sweet, juicy pecs like Rocky? Who checks out the blue sky in between full-beaked nips here and there at your organic feed like a culinary appreciator, and then, when the time is natural and right, gets taken out back and humanely slaughtered by Farmer Joe, someone who sells to the locals and not some supermarket chain, and makes considerably less money but is banking loads of karma?

If we as humans are anxiety-ridden, pill-popping, genetically-altered (i.e., high heeled, boob jobbed, hair plugged) creatures forced daily unto horrific trips to large companies to have our own little hearts ripped out and souls sucked away all in the name of generating money for The Man, then ask yourself, how tasty are we at the end of the day? And over time, what will become of the human species if we continue on like this?

Think about it.

We recoil after hearing horror stories from organizations like PETA about the inhumane treatment and genetic manipulations of chickens. It’s clear we appreciate healthy alternatives when choosing both what we eat and how it was produced. Nobody’ll turn down some tomatoes from Grandma’s garden or a barbotte fished clean from the river up at the cottage. But still, many people buy fast-food products because they consider it a treat, a quick fix.

We torture ourselves with many bad habits-smoking, excessive drinking, rebound sex, obsessing, spending, procrastinating-and all these quick fixes are doing our bodies in, not to mention our heads.

As 2005 approaches and we commit to New Year resolutions to get healthy, it’ll be important to take daily inventory of how we and those around us measure up to the production-line chicken.

Look after your health today even if there are no symptoms. Changing things that are modifiable now before it gets too late is smart. While some things like high cholesterol can be genetic, you can still do something to prevent further damage.

But physical health is not the only focus. While a good diet and exercise will keep you feeling great, can it improve your mental outlook? A daily fitness regime may keep me as fit as a Postman but is it enough to prevent me from going postal?

In the 1700s, poets and critics, the pundits of their time, went on and on about how Brits should tend to their gardens because maintaining a plentiful garden reflected Nature’s beauty, so property owners were paying homage to God’s perfection.

Giving good garden gave gusto. It took time and it gave people character. Gardening inspired others the same way that keeping ourselves in order can be inspiring to our neighbour. And hey, if you don’t give a shit about yourself, why would you give a rat’s ass about others?

A walk or skate down the Rideau Canal in a month’s time will prove this. For those of you who are no strangers to the gym, you’ll feel at home alongside the active bodies. And the slackers? They’ll see the participaction and want no part of it.

Skating, yoga, kung fu, snowboarding, walking, and even making love takes time, and the glow cannot be achieved instantaneously with a pill. Wholesome wellbeing gives you more energy, aspirations, and radiance. It puts out the vibe that you care.

Maybe you think you are fine just the way you are. But remember, the quality of factory chickens and farmed fish may not be distinguishable from their healthier counterparts. And philosophically or spiritually speaking, there is a big difference between the two whether we’re talking chickens – or You.

On that note, I’ll take one healthy Rama Lotus Hatha Yoga instructor and a side order of organic-produce consuming Gatineau Park cross-country skier to go, please.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – December 16, 2005

Looking back in the news of the year past usually involves considering all the wars and bad shit that happened.

Different things stick out for different people. For me, it’s a mix of the monumental and the common and especially of things that maybe the entire world didn’t hear about but were important to us locally. Here are a few things that stood out for me while I was out and about in Ottawa in 2004.

This year saw a healthy number of bands in the local scene receiving a lot of attention and developing stronger followings through CD releases. The Tulip Festival featured some of them, including what turned out to be my favourite – Andrew Vincent and the Pirates, who egged on the crowd to throw their socks up on stage. T

he Pirates, the Kelp Records party at Zibibbo, Clark, The Acorn, The Setbacks and Siobhan were all consistent in their ability to pump up audiences and inspire mile-wide smiles for concert-goers. Also back on the scene was Janice Hall, along with newcomer bands Red Fey and Autonomous Unit.

In addition to the locals, it was possibly the best year for other acts that included everyone from Wilco and Sonic Youth to the Pixies. Jonathan Richman was far too incredible for words. And I’ve never seen anyone play a mobile phone and palm pilot quite like Danny Michel at his Black Sheep Inn shows. Remarkable.

Outside of yet another successful Tulip Festival, another standout was the first annual Westfest in June, organized by powerhouse Elaina Martin and writer Suki Lee. Held in Westboro, it featured great literary, music and dance talents on its little stage and brought us Jane Siberry, whose speech at the festival launch party at Saw Gallery in May was unforgettable. Sugarcoat the business aim of the festival? Not her!

And indeed, Siberry and other local talent did help raise the profile of Westboro and encouraged business to the area despite the main drag being a gravel pit of construction. Considered the new Glebe, Westboro is now on the map for more than just the Subaru dealership and Bridgehead Coffeehouse.

As for business in Centretown, places like Sushi 88, Northern 2, and the El Morocco continued to dish out fantastic eats with exceptional service, while Zibibbo closed down. The Golden Thai on Booth Street changed owners and its formerly fantastic service and menu now disappoints. And, I’ll never eat at Dunn’s again after hearing in the media about the owner dude closing shop without warning in Kingston.

Speaking of labour issues, 2004 saw another strike for the public service. In December and January, public servants will vote on some important issues. One of them, which I read about on the PSAC website is the formation of a “social justice fund.”

Tell me, how can an organization – one which shows no interest in improving communications among its members to dispel the disillusionment among the masses – be proponents of a social justice fund? But perhaps I expect too much.

On a lighter note, memorable events of 2004 in Ottawa include CBC’s Poetry Face Off, which continues the great tradition of challenging five poets to outperform each other; the Great Glebe Garage sale; art auctions at Saw Gallery; and my first visit to the Ottodrome on Highway 7 (www.ottodrome.com).

In looking back on 2004 I do so mostly with a cultural, rather than a political outtake. And in my opinion, more than being just a white chick who writes about sex, I guess I’m a white chick who writes about shit. Hit-or-miss. And in a world where we’re assaulted daily with a barrage of negative news, sometimes it’s nice to know that talking about nothing is actually something.

With the continued help of readers’ responses online and in the letters section, Shotgun’s triggered debates this year, and there’s still a lot more we’ll take aim at and a lot more to do in 2005. Looking back, here’s Shotgun’s Top 20 list of things to do next year (if you haven’t already):

1. Interact with porn to “get” how the industry needs improving.

2. Don’t get pissed if you miss a gig because of bad-ass pms.

3. Don’t shit your pants on the first date.

4. Explore the history of the city.

5. Watch out for rebound sex and K-Tel records that’ll turn you on.

6. Remember: the green grass on the other side might just be Astroturf.

7. Buy a Danny Michel CD.

8. Attend a durtygurls event.

9. Frequent strip bars.

10. Enjoy life before, or without, baby.

11. Get educated about unions.

12. Celebrate pagan holidays.

13. Fire the accountant; get new one.

14. Go to pub; expect more condos.

15. Cherish monogamy.

16. Love thyself.

17. Love the family, even if they’re nuts.

18. Buy some home-grown erotica.

19. Write a To-Do List

20. Think: “If I was a chicken, would people want to eat me?”

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – December 9, 2005

“yes because theres a wonderful feeling there so tender all the time how did we finish it off yes O yes I pulled him off into my handkerchief pretending not to be excited but I opened my legs I wouldnt let him touch me inside my petticoat because I had a skirt opening up the side I tormented the life out of him first tickling him I loved rousing that dog in the hotel rrrsssstt awokwokawok his eyes shut and a bird flying below us he was shy all the same I liked him like that moaning I made him blush a little when I got over him that way when I unbuttoned him and took his out and drew back the skin it had a kind of eye in it theyre all Buttons men down the middle on the wrong side of them Molly darling he called me what was his name Jack Joe Harry Mulvey was it yes.”
~James Joyce, Ulysses

Moist magazine of erotica is a quarterly periodical founded and published in Ottawa, and according to its editor, Liam Taliesin, it’s “quickly becoming North America’s premiere journal of erotic arts and letters.”

It is intended to facilitate the healthy expression of sexuality.

The erotic content in Moist magazine can be touted as superior to its porno counterpart by the way it teases, tempts and titillates – likely inspiring readers to share sexual energy or celebrate it solo, but with class.

An alternative to the superficial energy of pornography, Moist fills the gap between Playboy and more hardcore forms of entertainment, like BDSM (bondage, domination and S&M).

There are few others like it.

Its pages feature sexy black-and-white photographs, hot stories, poetry and essays. Enjoy a fabulous short story by local erotica writer, Elana White. Read an insightful analysis of erotica in the once-banned “pornographic” literature of Henry Miller, Vladimir Nabokov and James Joyce, which will inspire readers to consider pornography rather than just consume it.

“Pornography plays a valid role. It is totally functional, period. It’s a quick fix,” Taliesin explained to Shotgun. But, he added, “Porn isolates … keeps people apart and reinforces the status quo – that sex is dirty. Erotica, on the other hand, brings people together. It is inclusive, to be appreciated with lovers and friends.”

Erotica can be suggestive and subtle in its portrayal of an ecstatic moment, sophisticated in its depiction of sexual magic, and thoughtful in its treatment of the erotic impulse.

“It crosses lines, without closing doors,” Taliesin said. “There are tonnes of men aching for more than the obvious.”

Not all guys like porn; some guys are not turned on by fake breasts, big hair or subservience. In the words of a Shotgun reader response to the “Talk Dirty to Me” column on-line, “seduce the mind and the body will follow.”

Many couples are enjoying Moist together, Taliesin said, using the magazine as a vehicle to connect. Because the content engages the reader on more levels than one, there is something in it for everyone and it appeals to men and women of all sexual orientations.

The magazine maintains that erotica is evocative and porn provocative, but inevitably taste will be the deciding factor in which you choose: “Erotica for her, porn for him; erotica for us, porn for them,” says Taliesin.

This is a treat for the cultural creative, those who appreciate something upscale from a plain ol’ skin mag. Moist is available online at www.moist-erotica.com, or find it at Britton’s, Collected Works, Crosstown Traffic, Glebe Smoke Shop, Globe Cigars and Mags, Mags & Fags, and Venus Envy. It’s a find for your night table.

XXX

Danny Michel is back in full effect on December 10 at The Black Sheep Inn.

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Remember Ottawa’s “kick-in-the-ass” Celtic band, Siobhan. Welcome them back to Ottawa after a month tour in Denmark. Lead singer Nicholas Smyth checked in with Shotgun about the “Dickheads in the Village” column citing Mike’s Place at Carleton University as his favourite pub: “warm, friendly, intellectual, and free hand jobs with every Guinness.” Beware – the boys are back in town.

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On the topic of pubs, have you been to the Highlander Pub on Rideau Street? Go celebrate TGIF with a Scottish twist. At 9 p.m., the exceptional staff treats all patrons to a free shot of Scotch accompanied by haggis!

XXX

And speaking of hand jobs, well … I dare not, lest I be accused of being unfeminist and non self-respecting. I got no bra to burn, ergo, I am braless. Opinions are like dildos, eh? We all have one (or wish we did). They come in so many different shapes and sizes, and here at Shotgun, I’m delighted to try them all out.

– Sylvie Hill

The Ottawa XPress – December 9, 2004
BOOK REVIEW

Emily Pohl-Weary’s A Girl Like Sugar (McGilligan Books, 232 pages, $22.95)

Empathizing with the Apathetic

– “You’re one weird dude, Sugar.”
– “Weird is way better than cute or sweet.”

Young People’s Press touts Toronto’s Emily Pohl-Weary as “an unconventional and modern-day hero to many young female writers.” She is the editor of the anthology, Girls Who Bite Back: Witches, Mutants, Slayers and Freaks, and co-founder and editor of the art and lit magazine, Kiss Machine: A Conga Line of Culture. You may also recognize her name from Broken Pencil magazine, where she was a former editor.

She’s been on tour this month promoting her first published novel, A Girl Like Sugar. Its sleeve describes the novel as a sexy and spirited coming-of-age tale of a girl named Sugar who struggles for the lead role in her own life after the drug overdose of her rock star boyfriend. Problem is, the age in “coming-of-age” never comes.

The shoe-gazing indie chick, Sugar, tries to get on with life by working retail at Record Teen. She befriends a scenester Korean skater and moves in with a dominatrix and a DJ roommate. She converses and fucks the ghost of her dead superstar partner, Marco (full marks for expert detailing of a young woman’s masturbatory experience). Eventually, she starts making films and this helps her get over the dead dude and bond with the new one (the skater).

Through all her troubles, the narrator makes the observation that “growing up is all about dealing with complicated situations and becoming a little less fragile each time.” But the meaning is lost on readers who endure her consistent Avril Lavigne tough-ass attitude of “whatevers” throughout the book, making it impossible to see vulnerability through the apathy or any sign of evolution or growth. The disconnect is present even in the closing line of the book: “The day Marco died, Sugar didn’t exactly bawl her eyes out.”

But Sugar is apathetic, so what’s the point here? The lack of sophisticated plot structure leaves gaps and there is no moral about growth and recovery. I won’t sugar-coat it: Sugar may be Ms. Cool but she’s an annoying character.

“I’m just continually surprised when people have a strong response to Sugar,” Pohl-Weary told XPress. “After spending days and days in my apartment, writing this novel, it’s almost inconceivable that others – people I don’t know personally – will invest in the story enough to be swept up by it.”

Pohl-Weary explained that she set out to make a so-called “apathetic” young woman into a three-dimensional character. “There aren’t too many female characters like Sugar available in literary works,” she said. So kudos to McGilligan books for supporting engineers of the cultural creative.

Contemporary author, Michael Turner, compares the book to an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, with its “deadpan prose that draws on a messy bedroom of cultural references.” For those who don’t mind pop-culture overload, the book is an opportunity to expand cultural horizons. If you want a window into the lifestyle of movie buffs, vegans, zinesters and anarchists from downtown Toronto, then A Girl Like Sugar is the book for you. Otherwise you may just get irritated.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress / December 2, 2005

“Will you still love me in December?
I could sleep many days, but it wouldn’t make a difference without you.”
~Julie Doiron “Will You Still Love Me” EP (1999)

December is here, the air is colder, the landscape barren. The Christmas Store on Elgin Street is gearing up, and Canadian Tire has stocked metres of shelves with Christmas lights. Coming soon: Christmas for Christians, and a priceless set of days off for the rest of us. Can you deny it’s one of the most exciting and special times of the year?

Yep, ’tis the season to celebrate traditions, exchange gifts and catch family feuds on camcorder.

Thinking about Christmas invites a flood of memories, some good, some bad. And of course, there are the gifts. The sacrifices some families make to ensure their kids have the best Christmas are both mind-boggling and heart-warming. They use their lunch hours to stand in line-ups at the mall; they forgo a new outfit for their Christmas party so they can buy their child’s costume for the Christmas pageant; and they set up the magic of Christmas morning by sneaking the gifts under the tree at night, and taking bites out of the cookies left for the big guy.

But, while the holiday seems to be all about spending money and buying presents, most fond recollections of Christmases past are seldom about the gifts we received – it’s always certain people and scenes we recall most fondly. The holiday means different things to different people, but December usually becomes a time to think about friends and family.

For me, being 30 means my friends have become my family. Also, I’m old enough now that I’m no longer a slave to parental plans and I can pick and choose what I want to do on the 25th. My core tradition is a 9 p.m. poutine at Elgin Street Diner on Christmas Eve, followed by a Vanier diner breakfast with mom the next morning. Then, Christmas night around 10 p.m., it’s off to the Dominion Tavern to meet up with friends from the other side of the world, like Saskatchewan. It gives us all a chance to catch up and regain a sense of normalcy from family-fest over a pint.

But in between the personal traditions I’ve established for sanity’s sake, my family get-togethers are still a cherished part of my holidays. Chez nous, we honour the French-Canadian tradition of joining extended family for midnight mass-ours is in Lowertown, at Saint Anne’s Church, where Grandmère used to sing in the choir. Self-named Kojak because she has lost all her hair, Grandmère belted out classics like Noël and was like a church rock star we’d all congregate around at the end of the service.

Although she no longer sings with the choir, the House of God is still our focal point.

It was here I heard a homily that stuck with me: “Aimer, c’est chercher de comprendre.”

To love is to seek to understand.

This wisdom carries me through. It makes me a calmer person by prompting me to sympathize with the family out there that has to put up with the bitch whose yappy dog outside of House of Cheese last month bit into an innocent male bystander, after which the lady shouted in a Celine Dion accent: “My dug duz net know yooo! Yooo luke like a drug-ee!”

As if the dog was a regular customer, and having a cool hairstyle made you an addict.

But I digress.

Seeking to understand francophone family dynamics at Christmas is a challenge.

For instance, when an extended family gets together to celebrate “le grand reveillon,” there’s as much theatrical pyrotechnics as there is food and wine.

Picture a hypothetical family gathering. The room is warm with love and goodwill and women-the men are watching fishing shows in the basement. Suddenly, a relative (we’ll call her Kojak) accuses her 78-year old sister-in-law of only marrying her late brother because he owned a hot set of wheels.

All hell breaks loose and arms flail while some scold Kojak and others support free speech. One aunt storms her spiked heels toward the door and threatens to cut Christmas short and others are bawling. You join the men in the basement ’til the storm passes and explain to your Anglo boyfriend that this happens every year.

French-Canadian Christmas becomes a lot more understandable once you’ve seen it first hand. And once you understand it, you love it. The upside of these kinds of wild antics is they’re a sign of a family that’s still close.

So, if your family comes across about as incomprehensible as the teacher in Charlie Brown’s Christmas, then rest assured you’re not alone. But over debates about homosexual marriage with your backwoods uncle, or while you’re mired down in trying to convince your godmother the whole Virgin Mary thing is fake, don’t get upset. Do like the priest said, instead: If something really pisses you off this month, cherchez de comprendre.

With the aim of peace and happiness this season, try giving the great gift of love.

Or a muzzle.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – November 25, 2004

I’m bustin’ out – both outta my shirt and outta this rigid, patriarchal system where a chick can’t go braless or talk about topics left-of-center without being hit on or accused of “tramping” about.

Next to the ladies in line at posh nightclubs in Ottawa, I believed my alternative style dress code made me immune to dirty come-ons. But I’ve had guys tell me that a woman in sneakers is sexier than a string-bean with a Gucci purse and spine-deforming stilettos.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I refuse to believe the string-beans are floozies, one short of a six-pack, beggin’ for it just because they’re sleek. But it always seemed that the force field of a less-mainstream style of sexy should deflect the kind of attention they get away from me long before it reached my front door.

Wrong.

Apparently when a bloke is drunk and horny, he doesn’t discriminate. But just ’cause he can’t handle erect nipples and a free-speaking woman doesn’t mean I have to change my ways to avoid a fight.

Right?

You’ve heard the one about the girl in the short skirt who’s “asking for it”? Among mainstream thinkers, if you speak or look sexy, you risk being the target of some prick’s sleazy comments or worse. Unless you can take a bloke down in a heartbeat, you could find yourself in a threatening situation. In a crisis, no amount of feminist philosophy gets a drunken loser off a girl’s ass quite like a swift kick to the balls.

And it’s usually your unassuming male companion who gets dispatched to that gig.

At the heart of women, and the people who love them, are three big concerns: self-image, sex and safety. While mainstream media trivializes these concerns, they are explored by “alternative” culture. Two of the strongest backers of femme-positive messages are feminist magazines and punk music.

Toronto’s new independent magazine Shameless, “for girls who get it,” and available at Venus Envy) blends these two elements together to support and encourage strong, smart, sassy girls. It tackles a wide range of issues like chicks in male-dominated jobs, being vegan, and deconstructs the popularization of things like Avril’s “wifebeater.” A CD with femme-positive bands like Lederhosen Lucil, Jill Barber, etc. accompanies the magazine.

While it’s nowhere near novel to claim mainstream fashion magazines and advertising do a shit job of supporting positive female self-image, the lack of novelty doesn’t mean the problem’s been fixed.

A quick glance at magazines and TV offers hundreds of examples: adverts about scented pantyliners make you think your box stinks; Vogue spreads of scantily-clad supermodels flashing their $1,000 designer panties portray women as willing-and-waiting tarts; and hour-long TV homicide programs like Da Vinci’s Inquest “entertain” us with episodes about chicks who got raped and killed.

The editors at Shameless know these negative images are a regular part of our popular culture and it was a time for change. “Many mainstream teen mags,” they say, “are in the business of selling shame. They teach us to be ashamed of our bodies, our minds, our sexuality. Ashamed if you’re too smart or too critical of the world … around here, we don’t care what size your breasts are-or if you have breasts at all. We are shameless.”

I like that idea. But try going braless next time you’re out on the town and you tell Shotgun what happens. Being shameless at a bar in Ottawa might get your drink spiked with a rufie.

Which raises the question: to what extent can women dress, speak-and be-shameless in Ottawa?

Depends where you go.

Personally, I find strength in being shameless through queer-positive venues. And I’m heterosexual. Hell, if I’m dancing at the Lookout on a Friday night, I can be as sexy as I want without some guy telling me I’m giving out the “wrong” idea. Since when should my dancing have anything to do with some scumbag who’s slotting me into his fucked-up fantasy world?

Events like Ladyfest can also provide an alternative environment to bust out of your shell and showcase your strengths in safety. Gay clubs, indie lit series like the Perpetual Motion Roadshow, and chick fests are some of the opportunities I’ve identified in Ottawa where women can share their worth and not be reduced to tits and ass.

The alternative woman in Ottawa – whether in uniform or spirit – will always have a lot more to show off than just her body, and it’s nice to know there are places where she doesn’t have to act meek to feel safe.

But outside of these safe havens, maybe those boyfriends suggesting their girlfriends “tone it down” or “stop talking to that guy” aren’t being possessive after all.

Ladies, when your man says, “I know what guys are like,” he’s not being controlling – he’s arming you. Knowledge and foresight are useful weapons in the fight for shamelessness, no?

XXX

Congratulations to Sound of One Hand Records (the guys behind Furnaceface) for being voted Ottawa’s #1 recording studio.

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Check out the benefit for The Shepherds of Good Hope Annual Christmas Dinner with The Hammer’s Christmas Extravaganza featuring Buford McGraw + Tim’s Myth, November 25, at Zaphod’s. Your $5 ticket will pay for the Christmas dinners of almost three homeless people.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress, Shotgun, November 18, 2004

Bored and unsatisfied with your current partner? Spark fading but you still love ’em? Well, why leave when you can just cheat?

Thanks to the Internet, restless couples and singles have a glut of opportunities to connect with strangers via chat rooms, online dating sources like Lavalife, or liaison services such as www.ashleymadison.com. It’s the Age of Instant Gratification where you have a husband and kids in Ottawa and technology allows you to carry on with your sexy e-mail lover in the Yukon.

There’s nothing like the invigorating rush of meeting people online – a guilty pleasure. If you come back to your partner rejuvenated from a bit of cyber sex and willing to put out in the flesh for them, then where’s the harm? Engaging in titillating exchanges over the computer with someone besides your Faithful Other isn’t really cheating. Or is it?

Just innocent fun, you say? So tell your partner about it.

According to The Monogamy Myth and the Prevalence of Affairs by Peggy Vaughan on the Ashley Madison website (their slogan: When Monogamy Becomes Monotony®), “a belief in monogamy as an ideal doesn’t prevent large numbers of people from having extramarital affairs.” So what does? What prevents you from engaging in activities that your partner feels rattles your bond?

In my opinion, whether you’re shagging someone else on a computer screen or in physical reality, if your partner doesn’t know about it and didn’t agree to it, then you’re a Class A Chickenshit.

Think about it.

People who cheat are too afraid to let go of the security provided by their unsuspecting partner. Lucky for the chickenshits, some people are forgiving, and would sooner rectify the problem that drove the partner into the cheap motel than cut them out altogether.

What about single people who are unattached but engaged in a ring of flirtations with a variety of potential partners? That’s more than window shopping, my friend – you’re trying out all the goods. Still it appears that, while stylin’ more than one person in the flesh is being unfaithful or dishonest, it is considered acceptable to have several e-mail partners simultaneously on the go.

The best defence for getting an account with Lavalife came from a single person who said that finding true love is all about numbers. Why not “up” your chances of finding Mrs. Right by dating a bunch o’ Miss Might Be’s? As well, you may minimize what some think of as “wasting time.”

But isn’t meeting someone all about taking time? Isn’t old-fashioned dating about the anticipation, the thrill of uncertainty and victory in the conquest? I guess taking time equals “pissing away time” in a society that is go, go, go.

You tell me: Is Internet dating not producing a whack of impatient, fidgety, thrill-seekers who jump from one person to the next? And is there anything wrong with that?

Online dating gives you an “in” with persons you either don’t have the time to bump into, or shouldn’t be talking to at all. And isn’t that a sign? I mean, if you’re not meeting the outdoorsy type, maybe it’s because you’re not up at Vorlage.

It used to seem that Internet lovers were built up in our minds based on a few blurry photos and a fantasy of what we want them to be, rather than seeing them for who they are. But enter web cams – now the visuals of online dating at least are more immediate. But are they doing all the work for us while replacing human interfacing with technology?

I don’t get it. Call me traditional – or maybe just dated.

XXX

Want to meet that special someone live and in person? Try 8minuteDating.com, coming to Ottawa this month! This option is hailed as the Fast, Fun and Guaranteed way for single people to meet. Your mission: eight one-on-one dates that last eight minutes each. For single professionals aged 25-35, show up for your date on November 23 at Helsinki Lounge and Disco at 15 George Street. For those between 30-40, see you December 6 at Vineyards, 54 York Street. Registration is $40 at www.8minutedating.com/signup. Happy dating!

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Shotgun raises a pint to avid pub-goers who wrote on-line about last week’s column … lest we forget The Manx Pub and the Barley Mow! Thanks to Roisin McCaffrey who championed The Manx – cozy for the cool; cheers to Rob Harbic who penned a pub tour of Ottawa; and here’s to Mr. James Harbinson with balls to name-call me an old coot pining for the good ol’ days. When it comes to voting for your favourite watering hole, what criteria do you apply? Write Shotgun!

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Looking for an unusual Christmas gift? Check out Babes on Beechwood November 19 to 21 at 137 Beechwood (in Dale Smith Gallery building, New Edinburgh). Organizer Jessica Thomas promises, “The event will be one kick-ass craft show like no other in town,” featuring paintings, sculpture, ceramic ware, home furnishings and jewelry. Noon to 8 p.m. Friday, and 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Sunday and Saturday.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun; November 11, 2004

“The Canadian Pub is destined to become a highly prized addition to anyone’s collection.”
– McIntosh & Watts, Christmas catalogue

McIntosh & Watts, Canada’s self-proclaimed Number 1 retailer of quality gifts and tableware are selling a special Victorian Dickens village-inspired foot-tall model they call “The Canadian Pub.”

It’s a Christmas scene, with snow collecting at ground level, where a cozy English style pub is nestled beneath wreath- and holly-decorated arches. It’s the place you’d imagine busy holiday shoppers settling in for a pint, some eats, and great conversation. The pub sign is a red maple leaf and above the red doorway it’s marked, “20 Rideau Street.”

The model lights up.

It’s $91.

With its turn-of-the-century brickwork, bay windows and chimney, this model bears an uncanny resemblance to the building at the corner of Bank and Somerset Street West. After a 68-year run as a dry goods shop, hotel, and finally pub and tavern, the businesses in this historic building – the Duke of Somerset Pub and the Lockmaster Tavern – closed their doors for the last time October 30.

Figure you’ll just head somewhere else instead? Well, the Lieutenant’s Pump got rid of their dart boards sometime last year, and the Celtic Cross moved to Elgin Street and joined the rest of the cruiser joints. A no-frills alternative was Elgin Street’s Eurostar, but it also closed last month.

Calling McIntosh & Watts
(1-866-35-CHINA) to reserve a Canadian Pub in time for the holidays might not be such a bad idea.

What’s happening to pub and tavern culture in Ottawa and who’s to blame?

Is Ottawa becoming more about dickheads in the village than a Dickensian village?

Are people really more interested in prancing around at discos and martini bars with strangers than cozying into a velour booth and communing with friends and locals over pints of bitter?

Besides the Mayflower Pub on Cooper, there are few places remaining where people can go to socialize in the way they did in our grandfathers’ age, or as they did on Cheers. And I mean “socialize,” as in having a conversation with a regular that doesn’t involve trying to impress or get them into bed.

Back in the day, hanging out with the locals was a cherished custom and a form of support. “Hey Fern, I’ve got this boil.” “Well, Jean-Guy, I know a guy who knows this woman who knows a guy who knows this doctor.”

That vibe still exists at places like The Dominion Tavern, Royal Oak (opposite Aloha Room), where the “entertainment” means you have to interact with others: darts, cards, and games. There’s always a comfortable spot to shuffle a deck fireside at Chelsea’s Pub or Woody’s on Elgin. These places continue the tradition of what Edgar Mitchell (former owner of the Lock and the Duke) calls “the third place”-a place away from both work and home.

Many believe the City’s no-smoking bylaw killed “the third place.” And on top of that, new owners just aren’t investing in old fashioned local drinking houses anymore.

“The people who have bought the building,” Mitchell said in an Ottawa Citizen article, “have no intentions of keeping it a tavern.”

Am I the only one who’s heard the building might be torn down to build condos? Will next year’s McIntosh & Watts feature be a model of stacked townhouses?

But maybe more housing is what this city needs?

Over the next 20 years, the population could possibly reach 1.2 million, at least according to the City of Ottawa 20/20 plan for a new approach to city-building.

“The truth is that if we want to preserve what we love most about Ottawa, we will have to change the way growth is managed,” it reads.

But I loved this city’s former tavern culture because it was the only place you’d find university students, young professionals, old folks, alcoholics and the town beggars all under the same roof. Now that’s gone. And yet, the City claims they will manage growth over the next 20 years in ways that will reinforce the qualities most valued by residents, like “diverse artistic and cultural life,” and “the heritage landmarks and landforms that distinguish Ottawa from all other cities.”

Have you seen the Byward Market lately? Planners and city council get full marks for promoting the city as “an international contender for business investment.” The City obviously encourages rapid development of high-profile condo complexes that don’t mesh with the landscape. And guess who gave the thumbs up to that bloody American Embassy eyesore?

Maybe the City of Ottawa isn’t completely to blame here. Ottawa must evolve, right? Like old buildings facing collapse, perhaps so too the businesses in them crumble.

However, just like the treacherous brother and ambitious noblemen who were key in the 1552 execution of the actual Duke of Somerset, factors such as migrating patrons, profit-seeking establishments and an out-of-touch City bureaucracy act in the same poisonous way, and all played a role in the death of Duke, the pub.

Ottawa’s downtown social climate appeals to people who wear $100 T-shirts with faux-fur collars. I have great expectations for it to be something else. Here, we find ourselves in the best of times, technologically speaking, and the worst of times, when the idea of an authentic watering hole is transformed into a fucking ceramic collectible.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – November 4, 2004

“If a man wishes to rid himself of a feeling of unbearable oppression, he may have to take to hashish.” ~Friedrich Nietzsche

Everywhere I turn I hear people telling me they’re living the good life. But when I look beneath the surface, something isn’t quite right.

While some people might go on about their four-bedroom house, taking vacations, and saving for their children’s futures, I notice that it’s not unusual for those same people to have a lingering student debt of $40,000 plus interest. I chose a different route. Over just a few years, yours truly here knocked $20,000 off OSAP down to the current $1,800.

Call me efficient.

Or, you could follow my accountant’s lead and call me a druggie.

My accountant thinks I have a drug habit because, after looking at my finances, he can’t figure out where $17,500 of my earnings went this year. Based on my salary, and after monthly expenses like rent, food and tampons, he noticed a serious pile of cash missing, and no down payment on a waterfront property to show for it. So where did it go if not up my nose? Not true. I don’t have a drug problem. I have a social life and student debt, thank you.

The accountant’s calculations didn’t take into account the payments of hundreds of dollars that I, like many others, pay out to OSAP every month. It didn’t take into consideration that whenever ex-students have a few extra bucks, we slap it on our loans, we pay for eyeglasses, we buy shooters.

And sushi.

I initially contacted the accountant three years ago at the recommendation of a fellow writer who suggested he would understand the position, goals and needs of an independent artist.

Some of the answers I was looking for were specific to my own situation (like, “When can I afford to self-publish another book?”), but others were ones that seem to be preoccupying many people these days: How should I move my money so that, come tax time, I won’t get screwed? Should I load up on RSPs and how much? How long would it take to get enough cash for a down payment on a condo?

I left his office feeling oppressed and depressed, knowing what I knew already: I have no savings and no investments but, pretty soon, I will have no debt. I thought that was a good thing, but it seems that no debt and no assets doesn’t quite balance out the way it should. In the accountant’s eyes, I’d be better off with a load of debt if I at least owned a 635-square-foot pot to piss in.

For those who are finally starting to come into the clear, and can now afford a proper suit or a new couch, there’s no time to rest – suddenly the push is to pad our RSPs to use someday as a down payment. Just as we’re getting our lifestyles in an orderly downtown fashion, we’re being prodded to take advantage of cheap mortgage rates and to buy, buy, buy.

But beware: Real estate is a truly expensive addiction. Once you start, it’s hard to stop. I was once temporarily convinced to go halfsies on a $203,000 Claridge Homes shoebox downtown with parking and storage, two floors from the sky. I’m not usually too concerned with material things, but I will never forget the power I felt when signing for something so expensive.

The Claridge rep didn’t even bat an eye at my Sloan T-shirt and toque. This company is no fool and knows that appearance doesn’t determine buying power. Still, it’s ironic that while Claridge is so down with the hipster-emerging-buyers these days, they’re about to wipe out the key businesses aimed towards this demographic: Capital City Music Hall, Record Runner, the sex shop, and Mexi’s.

In case you didn’t know, Claridge has pitched a proposal to build two 25-storey condo buildings on Rideau Street between Cumberland and Waller. Not quite a revitalize-the-core condo rush.

But if parts of Ottawa culture are bulldozed away to make room for these monsters, I have to ask at what price? How can I pay good money and not feel like a traitor, owning culture-destroying property? On top of that, aren’t people warned away from condos as a shit investment because of condo fees and low re-sale value? So who will move in? Probably students new to Ottawa who don’t have a clue about the history of their digs.

Think about it: investment-savvy parents will scoop up the condos for their university children to live in and manage. It’ll turn into a slum. So this buying pressure we’re all feeling is really about being forced to buy a house in Orleans or Kanata.

Picture it: all alone in butt-fuck nowhere, you and your sound investment, surrounded by young families.

If you didn’t have a drug problem before, it’s now on its way.

You know, maybe I went to an accountant for an answer that can’t be calculated with a spreadsheet. When we went into debt because of university, it was to invest in an education. Is the next step to go into debt by investing our life away for the “good life”?

This is your brain. This is your brain on a CIBC mortgage television commercial with Dido playing in the background.

Just say no… for now.

– Sylvie Hill

Ottawa XPress – Shotgun – October 28, 2004

“A flotilla of apples bobbing in a steel tub evokes memories of childhood and headlong plunges into icy water.” ~Apple Votives Halloween decorating idea by www.marthastewart.com.

A quick search on the Internet for “What is Halloween?” will lead you to some weird things, like Martha Stewart’s decorating tips or super-right-wing American Christian interpretations of the holiday.

The way in which the latter demonize October 31 is freaky, and the former so cryptically funny it’s scary. But, before you laugh off these viewpoints – brought to you by sites like Bible.com and www.yourgoingtohell.com – as just American nonsense, you might be surprised to find that the controversy surrounding this unholy holiday is not so far from our own backyards.

CBC recently reported that a few Maritime towns, like Summerside, P.E.I., have put Halloween to a vote this year.

Why?

Because it falls on a Sunday.

Tony Gratton, pastor of the United Pentecostal Church in Summerside, is concerned that having Halloween on a Sunday takes away from the Lord’s Day and could contribute to “an erosion of Christian values.”

Glenda Wright, also of Summerside, and part of the Church of Nazarene, mentioned she would not want to be interrupted by menacing kids: “I mean, if you want to stay home and rest and go out to your worship service that Sunday evening, that day of rest is going to be interrupted with children coming knocking at your door.”

So don’t answer the door, Glenda.

In the end, Halloween stayed put. Summerside’s police chief suggested Sunday is a safer night for children to go trick-or-treating while the Town of Souris wanted to keep Halloween on the Sunday because it doesn’t want to deal with the possibility of two nights of vandalism.

Charlottetown council has moved it to Saturday. As far as I know, Halloween in Ottawa is still on for Sunday.

So what’s all the noise about? Is it because October 31 is the eve of the day the Druids held celebrations in honour of Samhain, Lord of the Dead? It was also the Celtic New Year’s Day. According to the Yearbook of English Festivals by Dorothy Gladys Spicer, “To the ancient Druids, the end of October commemorated the festival of the waning year, when the sun began his downward course and ripened grain was garnered from the fields.”

Encyclopedia Britannica says “the two chief characteristics of ancient Halloween were the lighting of bonfires and the belief that this is the one night in the year during which the ghost and witches are most likely to wander about.” Seems harmless enough – keep in mind we’re talking about a time when indoor plumbing didn’t exist.

October 31 is also the eve of All Saints’ Day, a holy day in the Roman Catholic Church, Episcopal Church, the Church of England and the Greek Orthodox Church. It’s a day to honour martyrs who have died for the Church. This holiday was created by the Church during the time of Constantine to coincide, and obviously try to override, the existing pagan holiday. Sort of like Christianity did with Christmas and Easter.

It was just last year that I learned that Easter is the Christian disguise for a pagan fertility celebration, and that Jesus wasn’t a Capricorn.

“When you’re watching CNN,” my buddy said to me, “do you ever see any evergreens in Israel?”

Good point.

So where did the Xmas tree idea come from? And who the hell is the Easter Bunny and what did that have to do with Christ coming out of the cave?

I found it all has to do with pagan symbols getting absorbed by the newer Christian holidays. I learned how the Church poked their noses in things, and slapped a couple of holidays on the calendar, all in the hopes of dissuading their followers from the evil pagan ways that had been celebrated for so long.

Then we come to these present-day web-Christians who, according to www.bible.com, believe Halloween to be the opportunity for “most Satanists [to] celebrate this as their high holy day and even offer human sacrifices to the devil.” These web-Christians call Halloween degenerate and absurd, an evil influence that will turn us all into devil-worshippers.

“Parents have the responsibility not to allow their children to be exposed to these evil celebrations,” says bible.com.

And yet they’re totally fine with a story about a chick who gets knocked up without ever doing “the deed.”

The Virgin Mary is a lot more spooky than a simple Halloween costume, and stinks of magic and “other”-worldliness. I mean, getting pregnant involves bodily contact and if something in the sky was getting busy between my legs at night, I’d want to at least know its name.

It’s the stuff of horror movies, that.

If some people want this to be a fundamental part of their religion, they might at least lay off pathologizing little kids dressed up as goblins or a princess for Halloween. These kids just want to fill up their plastic pumpkin pail with mini-Mars bars and collect for UNICEF.

Think of the parents like those at www.bridgeschool.org/about/about_halloween.html who encourage their paraplegic kids to dress up, and have even created a “How-to” manual for creative costumes for children in wheelchairs.

Yeah, I know. Bloody Satanists, that lot.

– Sylvie Hill