Dear Tissue girl,
I watched your show last night at the TheaterFabriek and you were by far my favorite of Les 7 Doigts de La Main. I thought it was going to be an average friday night until Toronto’s finest chef in exile offered me tickets to see your fantastic show.
I must confess, I’ve never seen Cirque du Soleil, or much cabaret in my lifetime. I grew up in Jersey where no one ever spoke of Circus School. I was fascinated last night as I ate my apple pie and you told me about how you got your start back in Montreal. Your art – tissue – as you called it, is fantastic. The way you bend your body into pretzels and seemingly float in the air using flowing strips of fabric, I was hypnotized.
Although I’m sure you’re quite busy and have no time for guys like me, I daydreamed of the life we could have together. I know, you’d be on the road alot, and I’d be doing whatever the hell it is I do here in the dam, but I’d still have green bean soup and bacalhau ready and waiting when you got home from your latest tour. Et on peux toujours parler en Français si tu veux. Sometimes I’d go on tour with you and sit in the corner and cheer you on in multiple languages. On your days off we could catch a flight to the Açores, or La Reunion (island), and swim with dolphins.
And as a bonus, we could have little bike-riding, acrobatic, academic Quebecois-Portugûes-American children, who would impress the world with their keen biking skills, capacity for abstract thought, and impeccable balance on one toe. Hell, they might even grow up to be good bloggers!
Anyway I realize you might actually surf the net sometimes, and be horrified by this bizarro letter. But know that its just a daydream. In the end, you’re probably all married and busy, and not understanding what the F a blog is. And I’m committed to my bike, blog and the Amsterdam. Still, it was a pleasure to see your show and chat with you. Crazy Dr. M was also pleased to meet you, he especially enjoyed the show, reminding him the days when he did theater. (OH YES!)
Good luck in the future, don’t worry about needing a restraining order against me, I’m fairly sane (I think). And if years from now you read this and remember my bearded face and long eye-lashes, use the email and maybe we can get some Eritrean food and discuss the future of the world and our imaginary family.
Prends soins de toi,
Today’s Sounds: Decemberists -Her Majesty