BEST LAST DANCE OF THE NIGHT *EVER*

Dear Madonna,

I went out dancing "in the wild" last night. It was a crazy day, with a site inspection at the new Toronto Trump (pretty shnazzy), a long-overdue rehearsal with my Masters partner, Larry (he's come up with some great changes to our routine), and then meeting up with another client/friend a the Bier Markt on the Esplanade.

I chose the place based on some pressure from one my dance pal's Nick, who organizes these dance outings in clubs where there are bands playing the kind of music we like to dance to. The space for dancing is usually somewhat limited, and encumbered by obstacles: free-styling dancers (sometimes with drinks in their hands), servers carrying trays dodging in and out....

Anyway, I went last night and stayed WAY longer than I'd planned. In fact I changed out of my dance shoes into my boots and back again *twice* when songs came on that I couldn't resist dancing to. Then, when we were finally leaving for the night, and I had my boots and jacket on, the band started the first strains of "Like a Prayer".  Nick grabbed me, and started to dance me ALL OVER the dance floor - between tables in every direction - avoiding patrons and servers, and really, really dancing to the music (as Nick does so well). It was AWESOME!!

Speaking of "awesome" - I just saw that you've added a second show in Toronto. Congrats on the brisk ticket sales. Looks like it's going to be an awesome tour.

Julie

When I Was 18

My father's job wrenched me from the stifling boredom of suburban Ottawa and introduced me to international travel: boarding passports, currency exchanges, time zones. En route to Saudi Arabia we stopped in London, where we visited Buckingham Palace, watched the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, shopped at Selfriges, and saw Jesus Christ Superstar in the West End. On our way to the desert we stopped in Switzerland, took the train, and a funiculaire to the little village where Andy and I would be attending boarding school that fall.

When I was 18 we travelled from Riyadh to a camp in the middle of the Saudi Arabian desert. I had a summer job calculating cut and fill over sand dunes for the road my father was helping to build. The rest of the year I attended an international boarding school where I skied the Swiss Alps on gym days, shared girl-talk with my Japanese room-mate, and taught my school-mates to do "the hustle". I vacationed with my family in Greece; we cruised the Adriatic and my father tried (unsuccessfully) to teach me to fox trot.

When I was 18 I fell truly, madly, deeply in love - at least four times.

I can't remember how I felt at the time - whether I would have said I was "happy" - but it was an impressive year.

Enjoyed the Super Bowl half-time show, by-the-way. Loved the gold pom poms.

You ARE Everywhere!

Dear Madonna,

Magazines, newspaper, television - and this weekend's Super Bowl. No sign of an "end-game", but continual renewal and reninvention.

I am inspired!

Let's Get Real

Dear Madonna,

I don't think I can do it any more.

I've been trying for years now to develop an appreciation for modern art, but I remain - unconvinced.

When I was in Montreal recently I visited the Musee d'Art Contemporian. There were a couple of installations that commanded my interest, but for the most part I just didn't see the point.

Same with the "Come up to my room" show at The Gladstone Hotel. (The Gladstone is where the Dear John's played their reunion gig - around which JulieFest was planned ). I was expecting the hotel-guestrooms-cum-gallery space to reflect the setting something more hotel-related than, well, small mirrored discs with hand-painted portraits of famous people, sheets draped like curtains with infra-red designs, chandeliers made from paper-clips, or computer parts hung like a mobile.

Sigh.

I'm wondering if my preference for representational art is reflected in the way I dance and my confusion over more "abstract" approaches or styles.