Weekly Stories

a novel idea

The dragons are snapping at spiders in the garden and the cat’s got a brand new tail. You’d never know a couple of months ago it was chopped off in the door jam. She doesn’t mind the new length. She darts it around proudly. It’s a bob. It’s French. She bounds over the fence, spayed, and ready for adventure. As I wait in the coffee shop I see a discarded Province has an article on “Rushing Woman’s Syndrome”. I am off to meet a dear friend who is selling Arbonne. I have been thinking about it all week: the business opportunity…

becoming magical

Colleen smiles smartly. Her eyes are brilliant, backlit blue. I love this woman. I knew her way back before she was a visual artist. Before she even had a crush on any fellow of Cambridge. Before she gained a notoriety far beyond being a cousin of Marilyn Monroe’s. She was remarkable before she was remarkable. A vibrant spirit. She sculpts whale bones, she captures the inner landscapes of the body, she collects the dead leaves of extremely rare plants, grinds them down into an ink paste and renders their form fresh: resurrection. She swings easily between those who collect data…

Dr Frangione

Today I wear my first stethoscope. This is a right of passage. All I need is a cop and a lawyer role and I can die knowing I have completed the Canadian actor trifecta. On this particular TV show there are a lot of new actors and non-union, so there is a bit of anxiety in the green room about proving one’s legitimacy to each other and putting up a front of confidence. I sit quietly in the corner and let a woman with lip injections go on for quite a stretch about working “all across the USA” and her…

misty tells all

Misty squints at me over the Tarot cards and says, “You should try to meet Cee Lo Green while he’s in town”, as the answer to my question, “Will I financially survive if I stick to theatre?” She also suggests, “Write a horror like Stephen what his name” and “Book a gallery space and do a 24 hour open house”. I sit on her walker, her out door tarot card reading studio, and watch Nora swing from the monkey bars. “Question number two, dear?” She asks. I am not really here to know my future. I am a big fan…

bud

My guard is down tonight, fatigue I guess. By the time I do Espresso for the second time today…my Dad cooking for me…I want to suspend time. I want him to stay in my kitchen, peeling the ends off the rapini, patiently. And Tony gets me tonight. The lost love. The mix of experiences he came from. i know who has freckles on his shoulders like a boy. I know what happened in Beacon’s Hill park. Parts of me gone and yet not. Memories I spin into fiction that all come from something beautiful and painful and worth reliving. Worth…

loopy

I have to sign a paper to take my name off the mortgage, “we got divorced a year ago…” I say. “Yes, we just missed this niggling detail…” says John the banker. “Ah.” He hands me the pen and I lay down my signature next to Michael’s. “Woah!” says John. He reels back a little in his chair. I see what he means. Michael’s signature is lean, jagged, direct, masculine. Mine…well…it’s twice the size, a roundy loopy piece of spaghetti splattered onto the page, shaped like three naked ladies dancing. The difference is remarkable. “Explains everything, doesn’t it?” I say….

cultural mosaic experiment

A toothless Happy-Go-Luck with his shirt wrapped around his head stretches out his brown leathery arms and legs across Commercial Drive in a full body “arrêter!”. He beckons me to cross. “You’re the kind of girl to stop traffic”, he grins. “Why thank you very much”, I nod, queenly, sashaying past him on the way to buy some eco-friendly fish. Halibut season is here and I have fresh dill and lemons. The day is warm and bright and my neighbourhood is out flying all sorts of flags in the sun. Two people with shaved heads, cut offs and plaid shirts…

Maleficent

NORA: Truth or dare, Mommy? LUCIA: Truth. NORA: Do you have a boyfriend? LUCIA: No. We sit at Joey’s on Burrard as Nora bites into the last of her slider burger and lip smacks the ketchup off her fingers. NORA: Do you want a boyfriend? LUCIA: I didn’t for a long time but now I think I might be interested. NORA: It’s that guy. Your boyfriend is Addy’s Dad. LUCIA: Rob? You’re picking out Rob for me? Nice choice. He’s talented, he’s a hard worker, I love that guy so much but no. We’re friends. I work with Rob. Mommy…

vigilance

I understand the fear of disillusionment behind the quote, “Never meet your heroes”, but I suggest the opposite. There’s wisdom there whether they disappoint you or inspire you further. I had the great privilege of meeting one of my heroes this week. I worked with him on set on Tuesday and then he just showed up at my play tonight. Not every day do you have a movie star hovering in the lobby, waiting to tell you how much he loved the script and performances. He told me he is going to send the director of the film to see…

late planting

I am grateful for late season planting. It is still possible for peas and all sorts of lettuces, carrots, beans, zucchini, possibly even a golden cherry tomato if I’m lucky. Sometimes it takes me a while to get my seeds in. My soil. It’s a kind of second chance. I am thinking quite a bit about second chances today. I dig in the dirt. I squint a smile at the sun. I spray my hose at the cat tromping on my carrots. Now that I’m a bit older, I run into all sorts of late planters, like me. Maybe it’s…

Lucia Frangione