I'm a little manic today, possibly due to the fact that I had an extra coffee at the United Way coffee hour, or that I'm celebrating that it is Friday, or that I'm on the eve of super-exciting class reunion tomorrow and a theme-party (hobos!) tonight. Also possibly due to a bus ride of extreme awfulness this morning, wherein as I ran to the stop most of a bottle of soda leaked out into my bag, and spent the ride soggy and self-conscious, also sad about the wasted soda (good thing I bought two. I'm drinking the second one now, because of course I need way more caffeine). Now that my pants have dried, I have a new lease on life!!
I've pretty much had it with making sense, which is a fairly unfortunate state of mind to be writing blog posts in. What I really want to do is take a lap around the building and then lie down for a while. Which I might actually do. I'll keep you posted.
The book of love is long and boring
RR
Friday, September 28, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Writing and Healing
Today's mail brought me a copy of Ars Medica, a journal put out by the medical community in Toronto about the intersection of creativity and health care. It contains a wealth of fiction and non-fiction, personal essays and poetry, an interview between Margaret Atwood and Vincent Lam, and yes, a short story by me, called "At the End of Breath." It's a good looking journal, but a bit hard to get--order through the website above (and at right) or else come over to my place and read mine. Or be a health care professional--I think those might be your only options. Or just kvell to yourself, "Hey, Rose-coloured published a new story!" and then put it out of your mind. Just wanted to let you know!
I'll dig a tunnel / from my window to yours
RR
I'll dig a tunnel / from my window to yours
RR
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Wanna Play?
On-going group project, Kerry, Val, John, and me so far, to find songs about the radio. Why do I care so much about the radio? Unknown. Play with me anyway!
"Video Killed the Radio Star" by the Bugles
"This is Radio Clash" by the Clash
"Radio Nowhere" by Bruce Springsteen
"On the Radio" by Regina Spektor
"Sh*t on the Radio" by Nelly Furtado
"Radio Radio" by Elvis Costello
"Radio Free Europe" by REM
"Boys on the Radio" by Hole
"Radio Ga Ga" by Queen
"Are You Out There?" by Dar Williams
"Do You Remember Rock'n'Roll Radio?" by The Ramones
"AM Radio" by Everclear
"Transistor Sister" by Freddie Cannon
"Catch My Disease" by Ben Lee
They play me on the radio
RR
"Video Killed the Radio Star" by the Bugles
"This is Radio Clash" by the Clash
"Radio Nowhere" by Bruce Springsteen
"On the Radio" by Regina Spektor
"Sh*t on the Radio" by Nelly Furtado
"Radio Radio" by Elvis Costello
"Radio Free Europe" by REM
"Boys on the Radio" by Hole
"Radio Ga Ga" by Queen
"Are You Out There?" by Dar Williams
"Do You Remember Rock'n'Roll Radio?" by The Ramones
"AM Radio" by Everclear
"Transistor Sister" by Freddie Cannon
"Catch My Disease" by Ben Lee
They play me on the radio
RR
Idle Tigers at the Boat
Why yes, that paragon of brilliance and insantity, The Idle Tigers (don't bother with the link right now, it's being difficult, this is just here for future reference) will be making his onstage debut this evening at The Boat in Kensington Market, round about 9:30, which as we all know is *very nearly* my bedtime, yet I am planning on being there, because that's what a good show it is going to be. You should come, too!
too much of nothing / could make a man insane
RR
PS--It has just occurred to me that the "Idle Tigers playing at the Boat" could be an elaborate set-up to make a joke about this book. But it probably isn't.
too much of nothing / could make a man insane
RR
PS--It has just occurred to me that the "Idle Tigers playing at the Boat" could be an elaborate set-up to make a joke about this book. But it probably isn't.
Monday, September 24, 2007
rob's clever blog
Rob’s Clever Blog
Another writing/reading/publishing blog I can recommend whole-heartedly is rob mclennan’s blog. He is an Ottawa-based poet and publisher, and in this case putting the geographical location first isn’t a nod to form—he is fiercely pro-Ottawa; he publishes/promotes/pushes Ottawa writers and artists and seems to create a really wonderful community there. However, he is omnivorous and does a fairly exhaustive job of covering all of Canada on his various websites—once, when I ran into him at Future’s, he even mentioned me, which was quite frankly one of the coolest things that ever happened to me.
To say mr. mclennan is prolific is a sizeable understatement—he writes about everything, all the time, and it’s really hard to keep up. That website mentioned above connects to half-a-dozen other ones, including one for his new series, “12 or 20 Questions,” which I am loving since it’s interviews (of certain prescribed lengths, natch) with various Canadian authors. I am *very* nosy about other writers’ process, so I am addicted to those. Anyway, whatever your interests, if you get yourself on the mailing list you can receive an occasional index of what’s going on the blog and elsewhere, which helps keep the reading level manageable. Really, one could make a profession out of *reading* the blog, so I’m not sure how he finds time to *write* it. Fantastic.
Lots of people in your world / but I want to be your boy
RR
Another writing/reading/publishing blog I can recommend whole-heartedly is rob mclennan’s blog. He is an Ottawa-based poet and publisher, and in this case putting the geographical location first isn’t a nod to form—he is fiercely pro-Ottawa; he publishes/promotes/pushes Ottawa writers and artists and seems to create a really wonderful community there. However, he is omnivorous and does a fairly exhaustive job of covering all of Canada on his various websites—once, when I ran into him at Future’s, he even mentioned me, which was quite frankly one of the coolest things that ever happened to me.
To say mr. mclennan is prolific is a sizeable understatement—he writes about everything, all the time, and it’s really hard to keep up. That website mentioned above connects to half-a-dozen other ones, including one for his new series, “12 or 20 Questions,” which I am loving since it’s interviews (of certain prescribed lengths, natch) with various Canadian authors. I am *very* nosy about other writers’ process, so I am addicted to those. Anyway, whatever your interests, if you get yourself on the mailing list you can receive an occasional index of what’s going on the blog and elsewhere, which helps keep the reading level manageable. Really, one could make a profession out of *reading* the blog, so I’m not sure how he finds time to *write* it. Fantastic.
Lots of people in your world / but I want to be your boy
RR
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Weekend in quotes
"[Cheryl Ruddock] builds and then buries layer after layer of colour, image, and idea." --Minnie King on the fix temporal exhibit at Xe Xe Gallery
"Eating the bones is easy; fry them crisp, tear bread. Eating the bones is something no one does now. There is no step between stopping bone-eating and stopping herring-earting. No one eats herring in the other houses. They eat boiled ham, peanut butter, cheese slices not sliced from anything."
--Kathleen Winter, "Eating the Bones," boYs
"If you never say your name out loud to anyone / they can never ever call you by it."
--Regina Spektor, "Better," Begin to Hope
RR
"Eating the bones is easy; fry them crisp, tear bread. Eating the bones is something no one does now. There is no step between stopping bone-eating and stopping herring-earting. No one eats herring in the other houses. They eat boiled ham, peanut butter, cheese slices not sliced from anything."
--Kathleen Winter, "Eating the Bones," boYs
"If you never say your name out loud to anyone / they can never ever call you by it."
--Regina Spektor, "Better," Begin to Hope
RR
Friday, September 21, 2007
Links, Life, Books
You may have noticed that I have been making some small formatting changes on this page: no more big goofy picture (I found a small goofy picture, then remembered that Blogger hates uploading from Macs, so now we have nothing. I’m sure no one cares), no more blogs that are no longer being updated (guys? Where are you? I miss you! Guys?)
To fill in the gap left by my wayward friends, I’m going to do what I promised ages ago, which is provide some illuminating links to people whom I don’t actually know personally. Shocking, I know. We’ll go slow, one at a time.
If you live in Toronto, you probably know about Julie Wilson and her wonderful, high-concept blog, Seen Reading. If you are non-Toronto dwelling or just somehow missed the boat, I think it’s totally worth at least the occasional puruse. I’m gacking the concept from her site in her words, so you can see just how genius the whole thing really is:
WHAT IS SEEN READING?
1. I see you reading.
2. I guesstimate where you are in the book.
3. I trip on over to the bookstore and make a note of the text.
4. I let my imagination rip.
5. Readers become celebrities.
6. People get giddy and buy more books.
Because Wilson generally spots her readers on TTC subways, buses and streetcars, this practice actually combines three of my favourite things (books, transit, fantasies about the lives of strangers). And she’s general a pretty wonderful writer (her Harry Potter post was a tour-de-force), and the people of Toronto pretty wonderful book recommenders, in my opinion. Plus fashion tips!
Ahem. Other things making me happy lately are butterscotch pudding, writing Thursdays with Kerry, and the promise of weekend sloth. Last weekend and the one before were jam-packed with fun and excitement, but a full day of fun is still a full day, and by Monday I was a bit puzzled as to why I didn’t feel at all rested. Couple that with going somewhere or other almost every night this week, you can see why this morning was a wee bit hard. I am in the midst of an enormous coffee right now, but we’ll see how far beyond sunset I get before I just keel over.
Before that, though, I have to dart off to the post office and pick up my exciting book order! Even if ordered online and prepaid via credit card, anything that comes in the mail feels sort of like a present, doesn’t it? And I feel that this book order is sort of a leaf-turning (oh, god, terrible use of metaphor, coffee hasn’t kicked in yet) moment.
Here’s a confession for you: I rarely buy books, and almost never new. Isn’t that terrible? I am a constant reader and writer and believer in supporting writers, but somehow I never equated that with how I got my reading matter. Until last month, I worked in the biggest library in Canada, and regularly passed several others that are quite good. I also work in publishing, where free books are as common as daisies (and just as charming), and have many bookish friends who are happy to lend me things.
And fair enough—those are all legitimate sources of reading material, and up until last month I was fairly poor, anyhow. I think it was good enough that I was talking up the books I read and reading them spine-out on the subway. But writers struggle, especially in Canada but really the world over, and if even those of us who claim to love them *best* aren’t bothering to buy their wares, who will?
So I’m going to buy books. Not everything I read, obviously—the joy of the library is that you can try an author you’ve never heard of or a topic you normally dislike on a wing and a prayer, and if it doesn’t work out, no harm done. I’d be far less experimental in my book choices if I had to back them all up with $25. But anything I’m reasonably confident I’m going to like, and think I’d be proud to own, I think I’ll pay for it from now on.
I’m not saying this is some sort of moral victory, but it feels important to me. I even bought a hardcover, which I loath (these are not designed for transit readers!) Canadian writers forever!
Let’s just skip the boring parts / Chapters one through three
RR
To fill in the gap left by my wayward friends, I’m going to do what I promised ages ago, which is provide some illuminating links to people whom I don’t actually know personally. Shocking, I know. We’ll go slow, one at a time.
If you live in Toronto, you probably know about Julie Wilson and her wonderful, high-concept blog, Seen Reading. If you are non-Toronto dwelling or just somehow missed the boat, I think it’s totally worth at least the occasional puruse. I’m gacking the concept from her site in her words, so you can see just how genius the whole thing really is:
WHAT IS SEEN READING?
1. I see you reading.
2. I guesstimate where you are in the book.
3. I trip on over to the bookstore and make a note of the text.
4. I let my imagination rip.
5. Readers become celebrities.
6. People get giddy and buy more books.
Because Wilson generally spots her readers on TTC subways, buses and streetcars, this practice actually combines three of my favourite things (books, transit, fantasies about the lives of strangers). And she’s general a pretty wonderful writer (her Harry Potter post was a tour-de-force), and the people of Toronto pretty wonderful book recommenders, in my opinion. Plus fashion tips!
Ahem. Other things making me happy lately are butterscotch pudding, writing Thursdays with Kerry, and the promise of weekend sloth. Last weekend and the one before were jam-packed with fun and excitement, but a full day of fun is still a full day, and by Monday I was a bit puzzled as to why I didn’t feel at all rested. Couple that with going somewhere or other almost every night this week, you can see why this morning was a wee bit hard. I am in the midst of an enormous coffee right now, but we’ll see how far beyond sunset I get before I just keel over.
Before that, though, I have to dart off to the post office and pick up my exciting book order! Even if ordered online and prepaid via credit card, anything that comes in the mail feels sort of like a present, doesn’t it? And I feel that this book order is sort of a leaf-turning (oh, god, terrible use of metaphor, coffee hasn’t kicked in yet) moment.
Here’s a confession for you: I rarely buy books, and almost never new. Isn’t that terrible? I am a constant reader and writer and believer in supporting writers, but somehow I never equated that with how I got my reading matter. Until last month, I worked in the biggest library in Canada, and regularly passed several others that are quite good. I also work in publishing, where free books are as common as daisies (and just as charming), and have many bookish friends who are happy to lend me things.
And fair enough—those are all legitimate sources of reading material, and up until last month I was fairly poor, anyhow. I think it was good enough that I was talking up the books I read and reading them spine-out on the subway. But writers struggle, especially in Canada but really the world over, and if even those of us who claim to love them *best* aren’t bothering to buy their wares, who will?
So I’m going to buy books. Not everything I read, obviously—the joy of the library is that you can try an author you’ve never heard of or a topic you normally dislike on a wing and a prayer, and if it doesn’t work out, no harm done. I’d be far less experimental in my book choices if I had to back them all up with $25. But anything I’m reasonably confident I’m going to like, and think I’d be proud to own, I think I’ll pay for it from now on.
I’m not saying this is some sort of moral victory, but it feels important to me. I even bought a hardcover, which I loath (these are not designed for transit readers!) Canadian writers forever!
Let’s just skip the boring parts / Chapters one through three
RR
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Good stuff
So the Ambivalence launch at This is Not a Reading Series was pretty groovy, though rather warm and crowded (there are worse things) but what I really want to tell you about is the Pleasure bar I bought and ate on the way home.
These are a favourite of mine since I moved to Toronto and discovered them, and they are joyfully getting more and more common. I bought this one from a newsstand after the ice-cream place was closed and I was despondently hungry. It was 11ish and I’d had breakfast cereal and broccoli for supper, in my hurry to get to the non-reading reading, so you can imagine how happy I was to find something open.
If you’ve never had a Pleasure bar, don’t worry, it’s nothing obscene. Just a big wad of sugar, basically. The first two ingredients are sugar and glucose, and the third is jujubes, of which the first two sub-ingredients are sugar and corn syrup. Basically, a Pleasure is thick sticky white bar of noughat (all that sugar plus some egg whites and stabilizers) with mini-jujubes stuck in it. There are other versions that have pistachio nuts and the like in them, but those might contain some actual nutrients and we can’t have that.
The hilarious label advertises “Fat free!” and sure enough, 0g fat. Of course, the 35g bar has 34g sugar! So delicious you could die. For some reason, popular in Asian groceries, though the labels are in English only.
Did I mention I got yet more wires installed inside my mouth this week? And yet I am happily ingesting things the consistency of roofing tar as I sit on the subway. Problem? Well, perhaps.
All in all, a delightful evening. Go, Jonathan! Go, terrible confectionary! Hurrah!
(er, the downside of all this is that I got very little sleep hier soir, so I may be a tad punchy now!)
You are my sweetest downfall
RR
These are a favourite of mine since I moved to Toronto and discovered them, and they are joyfully getting more and more common. I bought this one from a newsstand after the ice-cream place was closed and I was despondently hungry. It was 11ish and I’d had breakfast cereal and broccoli for supper, in my hurry to get to the non-reading reading, so you can imagine how happy I was to find something open.
If you’ve never had a Pleasure bar, don’t worry, it’s nothing obscene. Just a big wad of sugar, basically. The first two ingredients are sugar and glucose, and the third is jujubes, of which the first two sub-ingredients are sugar and corn syrup. Basically, a Pleasure is thick sticky white bar of noughat (all that sugar plus some egg whites and stabilizers) with mini-jujubes stuck in it. There are other versions that have pistachio nuts and the like in them, but those might contain some actual nutrients and we can’t have that.
The hilarious label advertises “Fat free!” and sure enough, 0g fat. Of course, the 35g bar has 34g sugar! So delicious you could die. For some reason, popular in Asian groceries, though the labels are in English only.
Did I mention I got yet more wires installed inside my mouth this week? And yet I am happily ingesting things the consistency of roofing tar as I sit on the subway. Problem? Well, perhaps.
All in all, a delightful evening. Go, Jonathan! Go, terrible confectionary! Hurrah!
(er, the downside of all this is that I got very little sleep hier soir, so I may be a tad punchy now!)
You are my sweetest downfall
RR
Monday, September 17, 2007
Ambivalence
I am very tired, and while I have semi-interesting things to tell you of my past adventures (baseball, brunch, Balls of Fury, the past will keep while the future my interest you. Tomorrow evening I'm going to the launch of Jonathan Garfinkel's second book, Ambivalence tomorrow night, and I thought others might wanna, too. Here's the details, gacked from Facebook (I'm *sure* no one minds):
Jonathan Garfinkel's new book launches at the Gladstone with This is Not a Reading Series
Date:
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Time:
8:00pm - 11:55pm
Location:
Gladstone Hotel
Street:
1214 Queen St. West
I am I guess a little unqualified to be selling this, my copy of the book is still lost in Canada Post-edness, but I did read a chunk of it in The Walrus as A House Divided" and some bits even earlier, back in our student days (insert mist here). So I'm at least sort of qualified to imagine that this will be an evening worth your time.
See you there?
I hallucinated I could read your mind
RR
Jonathan Garfinkel's new book launches at the Gladstone with This is Not a Reading Series
Date:
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Time:
8:00pm - 11:55pm
Location:
Gladstone Hotel
Street:
1214 Queen St. West
I am I guess a little unqualified to be selling this, my copy of the book is still lost in Canada Post-edness, but I did read a chunk of it in The Walrus as A House Divided" and some bits even earlier, back in our student days (insert mist here). So I'm at least sort of qualified to imagine that this will be an evening worth your time.
See you there?
I hallucinated I could read your mind
RR
Friday, September 14, 2007
The Recommender
I've mentioned, here and elsewhere, that I'm not much of a reviewer. I like lotsa stuff, and I always want to share, but I often run out of convincing reasons other than, "I like it, it's really good...you'll like it too!" which as you may note, is not a reason to do anything!
However, recommendations are fun, because occasionally I know about good stuff you might like. Like melon yoghurt (yes, I am totally over my aversions to melon-y things! Melonyness is lovely, actually). And more:
The film Amal, which I saw last night at the film festival. It was a slow, sleepy little film. Even the melodrama was whispery. But I loved it. And despite weird pacing, with several key tensions being resolved well before the climax, I was on the edge of my seat until the credits. And yes, it did resolve the way I wanted it to.
The restaurant Yummy Bar-B-Q, which is apparently the last restaurant in the universe with no website, but is located on the west side of Yonge just south of Wellesley, and the the south side of Bloor just east of Bathurst, and possibly other places as well, and is fabulous. Seriously, the sheer variety of different items on your plate no matter what you order is joyful, and all of it (besides the mystifying ice-cream scoop of macaroni salad next to the rice) is excellent. Get the chicken spicy unless you have a violent aversion to spicy foods--it's the best one, and non-searing. And the kimchee isn't that spicy either, but it's damn good.
Dubliners by James Joyce. I know, this is not a new recommendation to most people, but well, I'm coming to the book for the first time (mainly) at the age of 29, so it is possible that some of you need that extra nudge, as well... Everyone knows it is a "classic" (whatever that means) but did you know it is really great for reading on the TTC? The stories are short enough to read in a commute, and straightforward and brilliantly (often grimly) clear enough that even with the distractions of fellow riders, traffic and trying not to fall over, you can keep it all straight. Plus the characters often see or ride trams and streetcars--it's like being in the story! A hundred years later, though.
These are the things I'm endorsing today. Maybe next week, I'll find a political candiate or something.
C'mon baby / let me know
However, recommendations are fun, because occasionally I know about good stuff you might like. Like melon yoghurt (yes, I am totally over my aversions to melon-y things! Melonyness is lovely, actually). And more:
The film Amal, which I saw last night at the film festival. It was a slow, sleepy little film. Even the melodrama was whispery. But I loved it. And despite weird pacing, with several key tensions being resolved well before the climax, I was on the edge of my seat until the credits. And yes, it did resolve the way I wanted it to.
The restaurant Yummy Bar-B-Q, which is apparently the last restaurant in the universe with no website, but is located on the west side of Yonge just south of Wellesley, and the the south side of Bloor just east of Bathurst, and possibly other places as well, and is fabulous. Seriously, the sheer variety of different items on your plate no matter what you order is joyful, and all of it (besides the mystifying ice-cream scoop of macaroni salad next to the rice) is excellent. Get the chicken spicy unless you have a violent aversion to spicy foods--it's the best one, and non-searing. And the kimchee isn't that spicy either, but it's damn good.
Dubliners by James Joyce. I know, this is not a new recommendation to most people, but well, I'm coming to the book for the first time (mainly) at the age of 29, so it is possible that some of you need that extra nudge, as well... Everyone knows it is a "classic" (whatever that means) but did you know it is really great for reading on the TTC? The stories are short enough to read in a commute, and straightforward and brilliantly (often grimly) clear enough that even with the distractions of fellow riders, traffic and trying not to fall over, you can keep it all straight. Plus the characters often see or ride trams and streetcars--it's like being in the story! A hundred years later, though.
These are the things I'm endorsing today. Maybe next week, I'll find a political candiate or something.
C'mon baby / let me know
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Hmmm...
Melon yoghurt--sounds disgusting, yet somehow not. I can't explain it, but this may be the highlight of my afternoon. Slooowww day.
It's the pause that refreshes in the cooridors of power
RR
It's the pause that refreshes in the cooridors of power
RR
What would you do?
If you had been involved in a conversation that didn't go that well, and later you looked up the word "meretricious" (attractive in a showy way; plausible but not genuine) and you realized you had misinterpreted it as "meritorious" (deserving reward or praise)? Would you go back to the person and explain your error? Or just let that person think it's your values and not your vocabulary that's wanting?
I ain't that lonely yet
RR
I ain't that lonely yet
RR
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Tuesday announcements
If this storm is in fact the end of time, it's been nice, guys!
Also, I'm reading tomorrow evening around 7ish in the Arbour Room at Hart House if you have nothing better to do. It's an open house to celebrate the first week of school, which i am very sad not to be a part of, so I am happy to be attending. The story that won the Hart House Review contest is "All the Ghostlies," which I had planned on reading. If you know that story, you know that it is not a happy one, and perhaps ill-suited to an opening week celebration. If it's any allurement, I've decided to go with something funny instead.
Also, today is the birthday of some fine folks, whom I am choosing to think of instead of another darker anniversary which today also is. But don't ever think I've forgotten; I doubt anyone ever does.
I am up to my ears in papers paper papers. And books!
That is all.
Baby when you call me you can call me Al
RR
Also, I'm reading tomorrow evening around 7ish in the Arbour Room at Hart House if you have nothing better to do. It's an open house to celebrate the first week of school, which i am very sad not to be a part of, so I am happy to be attending. The story that won the Hart House Review contest is "All the Ghostlies," which I had planned on reading. If you know that story, you know that it is not a happy one, and perhaps ill-suited to an opening week celebration. If it's any allurement, I've decided to go with something funny instead.
Also, today is the birthday of some fine folks, whom I am choosing to think of instead of another darker anniversary which today also is. But don't ever think I've forgotten; I doubt anyone ever does.
I am up to my ears in papers paper papers. And books!
That is all.
Baby when you call me you can call me Al
RR
Monday, September 10, 2007
Lit-Life Weekend
I wonder if people wonder about me as a writer: I'm so talky, such "Go Team!" type, that it might not seem immediately apparent how I manage to make a go of any project I have to do in silence alone in a room. And it is difficult for me--the phone and Facebook (and this blog) become great temptations when I go too long without chatter. But the writing life does have its social outlets, I'm beginning to discover, and I'm not the only one who likes to see and hear words in a party-type atmosphere.
So Friday night was an actual party at which pretty much everyone was a writer, and a friendly one at that (why else go to the party?) I feel as though there were 20 books in the brains of that room, just pulsing, ripening. Someday I will read those books and I really can't wait, but in the meantime it was such a joy to be chattering about what they shall or might be, as well as what my own might become someday. "Somedayness" can be a terrifying feeling or a delightful one, but I am feeling strong today, and so am delighted.
Saturday I actually *did* manage to spend on my own, finishing one story and writing a chunk of a new one. Also sleeping late (8:30!) and going to a Pilates class and doing laundry and all those other things that a solitary day is good for. I felt very productive, and Rose-coloured central is very clean now. Sadly, it is also catless, as Marlene-the-cat got recalled to her home. It was fun while it lasted.
Sunday, as you may already know, was Eden Mills Writers' Festival, which is basically an afternoon of wonderful readings and book sales in the hills outside Guelph. It's a gorgeous spot and the volunteers do an amazing job not just rounding up great readers but organizing and presenting and smiling at every attendee as if they are personally thrilled you made it. I was thrilled I made it, despite the cold (I was determined to wear my red sundress, but I had to put tights and a turtleneck underneath. I looked a little odd, especially when I broke down and put a cardigan and a windbreaker on over top) and the rain (I watched a few readings from under my umbrella). Ok, so the weather was decidely poor, but the turnout was still impressive and the readers rose admirably to the occasion. And, well, if I'm a little ill now, it was totally worth it.
I have a lot to learn from such readers, as I myself will be reading from my story "All the Ghostlies" at the Hart House Open House Wednesday evening (7ish, if you are interested). I'm pretty excited, to be honest. More talking!!
Hope your weekend was good, too!
It was the myth of fingerprints / that's why we must learn to live alone
RR
So Friday night was an actual party at which pretty much everyone was a writer, and a friendly one at that (why else go to the party?) I feel as though there were 20 books in the brains of that room, just pulsing, ripening. Someday I will read those books and I really can't wait, but in the meantime it was such a joy to be chattering about what they shall or might be, as well as what my own might become someday. "Somedayness" can be a terrifying feeling or a delightful one, but I am feeling strong today, and so am delighted.
Saturday I actually *did* manage to spend on my own, finishing one story and writing a chunk of a new one. Also sleeping late (8:30!) and going to a Pilates class and doing laundry and all those other things that a solitary day is good for. I felt very productive, and Rose-coloured central is very clean now. Sadly, it is also catless, as Marlene-the-cat got recalled to her home. It was fun while it lasted.
Sunday, as you may already know, was Eden Mills Writers' Festival, which is basically an afternoon of wonderful readings and book sales in the hills outside Guelph. It's a gorgeous spot and the volunteers do an amazing job not just rounding up great readers but organizing and presenting and smiling at every attendee as if they are personally thrilled you made it. I was thrilled I made it, despite the cold (I was determined to wear my red sundress, but I had to put tights and a turtleneck underneath. I looked a little odd, especially when I broke down and put a cardigan and a windbreaker on over top) and the rain (I watched a few readings from under my umbrella). Ok, so the weather was decidely poor, but the turnout was still impressive and the readers rose admirably to the occasion. And, well, if I'm a little ill now, it was totally worth it.
I have a lot to learn from such readers, as I myself will be reading from my story "All the Ghostlies" at the Hart House Open House Wednesday evening (7ish, if you are interested). I'm pretty excited, to be honest. More talking!!
Hope your weekend was good, too!
It was the myth of fingerprints / that's why we must learn to live alone
RR
Friday, September 7, 2007
Long Friday
Today at work, I dropped my employee id in the toilet. Almost worse: being discovered washing said id in the sink.
Hey, remember that time I was going to the Biodome for some Intro Geography field trip and the girl sitting at right angles to me on the Metro projectile vomited on my new jacket? And continued on vomiting (into her gloves) until the next stop (Pie-IX??) so she couldn't apologize before I ran away in grossoutedness. Once off the subway, I had no idea where I was, so I went into the only nearby business, a car rental agency and begged to use the restroom. I didn't explain why, but perhaps the lady behind the counter could guess from the smell, because she let me. I was scrubbing both my jacket and my sweater (yes, it soaked through) in the sink when an enormously pregnant rental-car-agency employee came in, *did* bat an eye but only once, then went about her business.
When I left the restroom (finally) I asked the counter clerk for a plastic bag to put my dripping wad of wet laundry in, and all she had a was a garbage bag. So I show up late at the Biodome with a garbage bag thrown over my shoulder like a hobo sack, and freezing cold because I'm minus two layers. Some nice boy from my class found me and reaffiliated me with the tour, and eventually took me home on the *bus* (I went the wrong way, should never have even been on the Metro) and I was so cold and mizzy that I never even bothered to flirt with him. I think his name was Anthony. Nice boy from first-year geography class, if you are reading this, is your name Anthony?
Remember when I thought I was going to major in geography? Ha!
Enjoy a little kiss and tell
RR
Hey, remember that time I was going to the Biodome for some Intro Geography field trip and the girl sitting at right angles to me on the Metro projectile vomited on my new jacket? And continued on vomiting (into her gloves) until the next stop (Pie-IX??) so she couldn't apologize before I ran away in grossoutedness. Once off the subway, I had no idea where I was, so I went into the only nearby business, a car rental agency and begged to use the restroom. I didn't explain why, but perhaps the lady behind the counter could guess from the smell, because she let me. I was scrubbing both my jacket and my sweater (yes, it soaked through) in the sink when an enormously pregnant rental-car-agency employee came in, *did* bat an eye but only once, then went about her business.
When I left the restroom (finally) I asked the counter clerk for a plastic bag to put my dripping wad of wet laundry in, and all she had a was a garbage bag. So I show up late at the Biodome with a garbage bag thrown over my shoulder like a hobo sack, and freezing cold because I'm minus two layers. Some nice boy from my class found me and reaffiliated me with the tour, and eventually took me home on the *bus* (I went the wrong way, should never have even been on the Metro) and I was so cold and mizzy that I never even bothered to flirt with him. I think his name was Anthony. Nice boy from first-year geography class, if you are reading this, is your name Anthony?
Remember when I thought I was going to major in geography? Ha!
Enjoy a little kiss and tell
RR
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Smarter and smarter
You shouldn't mix energy drinks containing taurines with alcohol. If
someone is drowning in a river, you toss a throwline *across* the river
to someone on the other side, not to the drowner. You can make a boom
mic with a telescoping paint roller and duct tape. I'm learning a lot at
my new job.
Otherwise, I'm learning moves like "the wiggle" and "boom" (from cardio
salsa class), that they put you in with the kids the first *week* of
teacher's college (from my correspondent E), that I can't do everything
I think I can do (from my sad current story), and that men who beam at my thighs in the street almost never have anything to say that I need to hear (from men in the street).
Thinking about Rosemary and thinking about the knife
RR
someone is drowning in a river, you toss a throwline *across* the river
to someone on the other side, not to the drowner. You can make a boom
mic with a telescoping paint roller and duct tape. I'm learning a lot at
my new job.
Otherwise, I'm learning moves like "the wiggle" and "boom" (from cardio
salsa class), that they put you in with the kids the first *week* of
teacher's college (from my correspondent E), that I can't do everything
I think I can do (from my sad current story), and that men who beam at my thighs in the street almost never have anything to say that I need to hear (from men in the street).
Thinking about Rosemary and thinking about the knife
RR
Monday, September 3, 2007
Weekend Summation
--What blue blue skies!
--Tequila Bookroom has a rooftop patio that is gorgeous. Did you know that? I didn't know that.
--I bought patent leather shoes. They are very shiny.
--Kim(berly) came to visit and she has been in the sun so much this summer that she is blonder than ever. Lemon blond, Barbie blond, it's insane. And she is also well and charming as ever, and the visiting cat adores her.
--Oh my goodness, the weather was so gorgeous--sunny and warm, but with a coolish breeze and at any hour the sun seems to be on a tilt. I guess this is what they mean by Indian Summer. Is that expression still acceptable, political-correctness-wise?
--I also bought a $98 sweater for $24. That makes it easier to accept that sweater-weather is coming.
--High School Musical: the Concert lacks exposition.
--Long weekends are nice.
--What are we celebrating on Labour Day again?
Get your head in the game!
RR
--Tequila Bookroom has a rooftop patio that is gorgeous. Did you know that? I didn't know that.
--I bought patent leather shoes. They are very shiny.
--Kim(berly) came to visit and she has been in the sun so much this summer that she is blonder than ever. Lemon blond, Barbie blond, it's insane. And she is also well and charming as ever, and the visiting cat adores her.
--Oh my goodness, the weather was so gorgeous--sunny and warm, but with a coolish breeze and at any hour the sun seems to be on a tilt. I guess this is what they mean by Indian Summer. Is that expression still acceptable, political-correctness-wise?
--I also bought a $98 sweater for $24. That makes it easier to accept that sweater-weather is coming.
--High School Musical: the Concert lacks exposition.
--Long weekends are nice.
--What are we celebrating on Labour Day again?
Get your head in the game!
RR
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