“The longer that line stays on the paper, the heavier it gets, ‘til all of a sudden, if you’re trying to extract it, it weighs about 700 pounds.” — Gord Downie on songwriting, 1996
“When people think we [Canadians] are polite, that’s just a word for thought process, and there’s a thought process that perhaps we just don’t trust illusion too much.” — Gord Downie, 2012
Tonight at 8:30 Eastern, 6:30 Mountain, Canada will be closed (I stole that) and singing alongside our band as we whisper them goodnight but not goodbye, because we are don’t think in goodbyes.
There is a definite sadness. There is definite celebration. There is a slow unsettled awareness. There is a subtle screaming denial.
I have heard the enigmatic courage of inevitability. We have learned Canadian poetry, from the man, the machine, the poem.
As always, here, we are laughing & crying, & dancing along side our poets, the ones who’ve hung the heart, freshly torn on their sleeves.