Little Orange Man – SNAFU Dance Theatre What a revelation. In the same breath, in the same moment, in the same thought, this show manages to be caring and creepy, and dark and innocent, and funny and heartbreaking. I literally laughed and cried, experiencing a metaphorical roller coaster of emotions. [...]
Articles by: Caitlin
Summer is coming, SUMMER IS COMING! No, but really. Don’t look outside, don’t look at The Weather Network– these things just lie to you. They lie, they cheat and they steal. The truth of summer in Montreal lies in the festival scene, and the harbinger of this truth is the annual [...]
We feel you. You hear the words “one-man band”, and think this, right? Don’t feel bad, so did we… until we met Jon Cohen.
Now that we have your attention– did someone say SEX MONTH? Yeah. It was us, and we said it loud, and we said it proud. Another person saying it, doing it, feeling it loud and proud is Cameryn Moore, a writer, performer, raconteur– and oh yeah, phone sex worker– currently living [...]
Spring has sprung, n’est-ce pas mes ami(e)s? And we get to wear clothes that people will actually SEE, and shoes that are actually pretty. And drink beer on terraces. Bliss. But where there’s drinking, there’s normally talking, and having to interact with other humans can be an incredibly painful experience. [...]
In a new hard-hitting investigative series, The Main goes Johnny Deep into the Johnny Dep culture of Montreal. DEPS: Which are the best? Which are the worst? Which are the most likely to accuse you of stealing? Which will make your very soul seem unclean? Which will sell you off-brand [...]
No, I’m not reviewing teenage sex in general, or in particular. Because that would not be gold. (Or so I’ve heard.) No, my teenage dreamers, I am reviewing an event put together by the Scrivener Creative Review for the Scrivener Creative Review.
(Because it’s a fine line, am I right?) So – I hear congratulations are in order. You snagged a sweet-ass new gig. Maybe it’s for this summer, maybe it’s your first real job, maybe it’s going to save your sanity, maybe I don’t give a fuck.
Remember your journal– okay, diary– from high school? The sophistication of your prose, the depth of your imagery, the elegance of your expression? Yeah, not so much.