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Pas facile, une journ�e de cong�…

Vous manquez d’id�es pour la location de films � regarder � la maison? Allez voir l’excellente liste offerte par La Presse intitul�e Les tr�sors cach�s du cin�ma qu�b�cois. Le journal a demand� � diff�rents professionnels de choisir un film qui, selon eux, n’a pas �t� reconnu � sa juste valeur au moment de sa sortie, ou qui est trop vite retomb� dans l’oubli.

Excellent boost pour mon humeur professionelle: je collabore actuellement avec deux des cin�astes mentionn�s sur cette liste et ce seront eux qui r�aliseront les sc�narios que j’ai �crits si le financement est obtenu. La productrice me promet que �a se concr�tise pour l’un d’entre eux, avec possibilit� de tournage � l’automne. Le financement est tellement devenu complexe au Qu�bec que je n’ose plus y croire… sans arriver toutefois � me d�barrasser de tous mes espoirs!

Je n’ai vu que trois des onze films sugg�r�s par La Presse. Quelle honte! J’ai du rattrapage � faire. Et vous?

This summer marks the 8th anniversary of my move to Montreal after living in San Francisco for… 8 years. How freaky. It feels like I was in California forever while Montreal is still a new thing, a place I’m not so sure I belong to, I’m not so sure I love. Leaving California was hard but most of the time I don’t regret it. Most of the time… until everything in the universe seems to conspire to make me nostalgic about the Bay Area and makes me long for those rolling hills.

On Monday, two of my dearest san franciscan friends, P. and A., were in Montreal for a short vacation and paid me a visit at home. They surprised me with a big announcement : they are leaving California and moving to Quebec City in a year. Wow. I was happy for them – it’s a decision they’ve considered for a long time since all of P’s family lives in Quebec – but I just couldn’t imagine San Francisco without them. They were some of the first people I met there and P. was the heart of the qu�b�cois community in the Bay Area, organizing social activities and keeping us all in touch. Visiting San Francisco without paying them a visit will not be the same anymore. I know it’s silly – I’ll see them more often when they live in Quebec City – but I was in a nostalgic mood, having just spent an hour preparing an e-mail full of info on my favorite San Francisco neighborhoods for my brother-in-law who is going over there for a business trip.

Last night Blork and I decided to finally watch the DVD of The wild parrots of Telegraph Hill which we had received through our Zip membership. It’s a beautiful documentary about a man typical of San Francisco (bohemian, gentle, generous and silly) who dedicated a big part of his life to the care of wild parrots hanging out on a city hill. With his help, you get to learn the personality of every single bird in the flock, each of them with a fascinating story. It’s funny, touching and SO san franciscan in style and spirit that it made my heart ache.

During a scene where the man is feeding the parrots, a few onlookers quietly walked by and stopped to watch him and the birds. My eyes widened. For a second, I thought I had recognized my friend P. Then the camera panned on the man next to the woman and I yelled: « It’s A.! It’s P. and A.! » There they were, my two old San Francisco friends, unknowingly part of this documentary, probably out and about on a long stroll in the city that is such a part of their identity.

I couldn’t believe it and took it very personal. It felt like a wink from fate, like a little hand wave, mocking me and gently reminding me that change is okay and that things don’t really change anyway.