by Roxane Hudon
Play:
I’m having a glass of wine and listening to Tinariwen’s WALLA ILLA. The wine is from the grocery store downstairs; it promises “peppery, earthy notes on the finishing touch”. I’m not quite sure what that means, but it seems appropriate. I’m looking at my phone and I’m wondering if I should be doing something important. I’m listening to Tinariwen’s ISWEGH ATTAY and I’m feeling at peace. I can’t open my book in bed, because my cat will lie on it. She must have been an important literary figure in her past life. I’m looking at the Scotsman’s website and I like how they have a “Whisky” section. News, Politics, Arts, Life, Whisky. I’m listening to Tinariwen’s WALLA ILLA and I feel like I’m away, somewhere where people talk about other things than parties, restaurants and new pants. I’m getting to the finishing touch, trying to taste the peppery, earthy notes and I’m listening to Tinariwen’s TAMEYAWT. I’m wondering if I should attend the closing party for Pop Montreal, but I think this is a better time. I’m having a good time. I’m listening to Tinariwen’s ADEN OSAMNAT and I think that “Sweet Tart” was a ridiculous colour to apply to my nails. I’m wondering why I have two Facebook tabs open, as if something different was going to open in one of the open tabs. I’m listening to Tinariwen’s YA MESSINAGH and my roommate asks me if I’m working right now, hunched over my computer with my glass of wine. I’m not, “I’m having pleasure,” is what I answer. I’m listening to Tinariwen”s WALLA ILLA and I should fill my glass of wine. I’m not feeling particularly critical or negative. I’m looking at the wall, I’m writing this and I’m feeling at peace. I’m listening to Tinariwen’s IMIDIWAN WIN SAHARA and I’m thinking of that classic movie line from that classic movie: “T.I.A., T.I.A.” -The End, I’m going to bed.
