By the time Montreal was a flourishing, modern city with plumbing and sewers and streetlights, Calgary was a smattering of wood cabins and burlap tents. While the French sipped wine and contemplated ways to kick the English off of their island Calgarians peered over the walls of their fort on the lookout for Indians and rum runners. Different worlds indeed. And while Calgary is full of skyscrapers and most Montrealers have learned to live together in harmony regardless of language, old habits sometimes die hard.
Back in Cowtown I lived in constant fear of being revealed as a pinko communist art fag who didn’t believe in the magical powers of oil to spread wealth, love and happiness to all. I was one of those wierdos who thought that sharing was better than competition and art more interesting than accounting. Yes this is all a bit extreme, but the contrast between Montreal and Calgary seems that stark.
In Calgary I harboured a constant siege mentality, always on my guard, frightened to reveal my true nature since, really I didn’t fit in. That feeling of not fitting in has plagued me almost my entire life, that is, until I moved here. In only a couple of months I’ve integrated, almost seamlessly into the life that is Montreal.
When I meet people here, they are people like me. Photographers, filmmakers, musicians, philosophers. Its really everything I dreampt of. I’m a regular at a funky underground multi-disciplinary venue. People are seeking my friendship, skills and ideas, and share in my enthusiasm at the prospects of creating something new.
The only snag is work, but what’s that. Just a distraction to bring in some much needed financial support. It keeps my feet on the ground.
Speaking of which, the time’s up for parking. I have to go. But things are going well. I’ll delve into more detail when I have more time. Au prochain!
