Events: I likes them

Last night was the incomperable Book Madam's Sociable at the Pour House, which I attended with Kerry Clare and great joy. It would have been more useful if I'd blogged about this *before* the event happened, but you probably heard about it anyway. I'm a little out of the loop, but judging by the crowd around the bar, this was not an event that suffered from lack of publicity.

More upcoming events of awesomeness:

Wednesday March 31, 7pm--The launch party for the Baracuda anthology, put together of the most outstanding work from last year's SWAT program. One of my students is in it, and some of this year's are going to come out and applaud. I'm super-stoked.

Sunday April 18, 3pm--Draft Reading Series re-emerges from its winter hibernation with readings by Michael Bryson, Ian Burgham, Dani Couture, Ellen S. Jaffe and Mark Sampson. Woot!

Monday April 19, 6pm--Launch party for the poetry books by Paul Vermeersch, John Steffler, and Dionne Brand.

Wednesday April 21--Um, I think I'm reading, at the Free Times, as part of the Now Hear This series. Except, when I went to get the link, I got this instead, so now I'm not sure. Maybe someone will tell me soon. Check this space.

RR

Introducing Samantha

I'm pleased to say that my future work in the world will now be represented by the very book-savvy Samantha Haywood at Transatlantic Literary Agency, Inc. Here we are at Samantha's author party last week, her looking like the charming individual she is, me looking mildly deranged for wearing an enormous winter coat in June (you can't even tell in the picture, but it's actually buttoned wrong, too!)

I have to say that I find it mildly terrifying to even suggest that I will *have* future work in the world, but one of the best ways allay terror is to work with smart people, so this is, I'm sure, a good step forward.

Gloria / where are you?

RR

What I've Been Up To

1) Listening with alarming interest to paranoid conspiracy theories (but still not to zombie apocolypse scenarios, rest assured).
2) Getting Disney tunes stuck in my head, apropros of nothing (I haven't heard that song *outside* of my head in 15 years).
3) Tracing stuff with a pencil so it will scan better.
4) Being asked, yet again, about my ethnicity by strangers. I'm thinking, the next time someone asks me, "What's your background?" I'm going to glance over my shoulder and try to describe what colour I think the wall is painted.
5) Getting a nice review in Jewish Book World. The online version's not up yet, and it's a US mag so you might not be able to find it here, but rest assured, it's nice.
6) Hugging poets.
7) Glamourous parties.

The last three make up for the first four, natch.

Everybody loves a train in the distance
RR

Sometimes

Sometimes, I become so upset at my teetering stacks of books and papers (commented one recent guest, "You're busy!" me: "Or should be!"), email queue and general failure of productivity, that I resolve to scale back on all frolic, forthwith. Which is of course the signal for an eruption of amazing frolicking opportunities amongst my friends and acquaintances. Thus, last night spent on the announcement of the Descant Winston/Collins poetry prize (congrats to all the long- and short-listers, and to Descant for the amazing bash) and later on guitar harmonies and silliness (I sure know the words to a lot of bad songs). And then today, between the yoga and the photo shoot and writing this very important blog post, I had amazing things planned, workwise...which didn't quite happen. And in a few hours, I have to go out for Mexican food!! How do these things happen?

Something, obviously, has to scale back. Don't worry, it probably won't be this blog; does a junkie ever get too busy to shoot up? I fear it's sleep.

Wake up
The house is on fire
And the cat's caught in the drier
RR

Clod

I have an intense devotion to etiquette, brought on by a lot of underaged reading of Amy Vanderbilt and Emily Post. I have thoughts, which I try not to share, on how one should conduct oneself regarding coasters, hairpins, floral arrangements and divorce. The reason I do not share these things is that they are antiquated and unhelpful, and most people only find my rule-following annoying and compulsive, not, as it is meant to be, respectful and friendly.

And then when there is a rule that I could usefully follow, such as RSVP, I drop the ball. I have been corrupted by modernizing forces, aka Facebook--where RSVP is not the French acronym for the polite imperitive, respondez-vous, s'il vous plait but a vaguer suggestion, "respond if you want it to show up on your wall, if you want someone to save you a seat or a sandwich, or if you feel like it. No committment required; feel free to ignore if unavailable/uninterested."

Such is the social climate of Facebook--that's the way it works, and it is respectful to follow the rules of Rome when there. But Facebook is not the Governor General's awards, and despite the fact that I felt very sad about not being about to go, it never occurred to me to call and tell anyone this, despite the swirly-script RSVP clearly printed on the invitation. So I now also feel very sad about making the nice GG people call me to find out that I will not, in fact, be there tomorrow.

I have learned a lot from this experience, and will be rereading my Post and Vanderbilt shortly. Until then, if you are going the GGs, or any of the attendent amazing events, have an extra good time on my behalf.

Stared at the grown-up feet while they danced and swayed
RR

I give up!

I love Hallowe'en more than I love most things, but this year I cannot come up with a costume. This is a sad and embarrassing failure; I wouldn't blame you if you thought less of me, even stopped reading this blog. But if you are still reading, here are my excuses:

1) The party I am going to is TV-themed, and I haven't had a working television in 4 years.
2) Prior to 2004, all my favourite shows were sitcoms, and all those characters look approximately like real people. How would you *know* I was dressed as Bailey Quarters, even if I straightened my hair?
3) I am insanely busy these days and will actually be away for most of this week. Even when I am not insanely busy, I am a poor seamstress and have had bad luck with hair dye. Whatever costume I wind up with cannot be complicated, blond, or bulky (the party is also very far away--I don't want to spend an hour trying to keep my wings or antennae or whatever to myself).

Are these constraints not imposing? I am seriously thinking of covering my clothes with Styrofoam peanuts and going as no-signal snow... If you have a better idea (and almost any idea is better than that) please please share it. I will be forever in your debt. I'll bring you candy!

After twelve / just as well
RR

Today

It is rainy and cold in Toronto and I have something in my eye. On the upside:

--Today is the media launch for The Eden Mills Writers Festival. I am going to read a story (well, part of one) to the media. I hope I get whatever it is out from behind my contact lens by then.
--Today I have an essay on That Shakespeherian Rag.
--Today (well, tonight) is the Salon de Refuses launch for TNQ and CNQ, both of which I received in the mail yestereve, and they are so lovely to look at (I trust they'll be lovely to read, too, but we're not moving too fast around here, being now particularly blinky).

She's too good to be true / to me
RR

(Never) Stop the Presses!

THE TORONTO BOOK LAUNCH FOR *ONCE* WILL BE SEPTEMBER 2ND!!!!!!

I wanted to give you all maximum notice, because if there's any chance of you being in the city then and free from contraint and interested in seeing me accidentally inhale my hair when I try to speak, I want you to be there.

It'll be part of Pages Books amazing This Is Not a Reading Series. I'm not quite sure where, as of yet, or what time.

When he saw that brown-hair lady
RR

Predictive Powers

I hate to brag, but my intuitions were all correct about this weekend. The big party was in fact as scary and intimidating as I had thought, and though no one was rude and the appetizers were delicious and the music good and the space beautiful (though I could never quite figure out where in the museum I was, such was the crowd) I left quite early early. I am a wuss, I admit it, but now I know there is a certain number of strangers beyond which I cannot cope. And that shotglasses filled with chilled soups, with shrimp or cheeseballs impaled on the rims, is a good thing to eat, and actually I didn't know that before.

Then the Small Press Book Fair was lovely, well-organized and entertaining, and not intimidatingly crowded, though well-attended. I would say the surprise there was hearing Christopher Dewdney read from his latest books on time. That *was* a surprise, because you would think, knowing me, that a poetic and scientific exploration of night and day would leave me gasping for air, but Dewdney's reading was surprisingly warm and accessible. And no small feet, in a noisy space with so much traffic. Very impressive.

Further predictions--it won't be this hot forever. Soon it will snow again and we'll be complaining about that, so let's enjoy at least being able to move freely on the sidewalks. One more prediction: before the snow but towards the end of summer, I'll be reading at Eden Mills Writers Festival, which is an exciting prospect. No matter how hot it is in September, Eden Mills is by a river and therefore will be slightly cool, and filled with authors and awesomeness. Hooray!

And somebody beside you
RR

Good Times

Today is the first day of Toronto's arts/creativity/light festival, Luminato. There's a quadrillion events, dance and music and art and theatre and literature... If you look at the website, it's all very intimidating for one little human--so much cool! Ack! More intimidating: as I am a reader at the Festival of the Short Story I get invited to the Armani Opening Night Party. Which sounds super-glamourous, and I've never been inside the ROM crystal, or to a party sponsored by Armani. So I'm going to go.

Which sounds reasonable, until you realize I don't leave the house a whole lot (witness: everyone and their dalmation has already been to the crystal) and am scared of parties. And yet I find them so alluring I must go (insert depressing moth metaphor here). So we'll see how this all turns out. Once more, into the fray!

Tomorrow will be less alarming, as I am attending the non-glamourous but super-cool Toronto Small Press Book Fair
Saturday June 7, 12-5pm. I haven't been in a few years, and it's in a new venue, and I love small presses. If you want to go, too, this one needs no invitation--

750 Spadina Ave
> Miles Nadal Jewish Community Centre
(a half-block south of the Spadina subway station)

Kisses for you
RR

Evidence

If you need evidence that a good literary time was had at the IV reading on Friday, you can check out the Open Book Toronto article on it. If you follow the link to the Flikr page, you'll see a bunch of fun photos, including a demented one of me trying really really hard not to blink.

If some dimbulb should say / we were in love in some way / kick all his teeth in for me
RR

The Writers Trust Dinner

...is where I went tonight and now I need to stay up an extra twenty minutes past my bedtime (already long past) to tell you about it.

I was Very Worked Up about this event, as you may know. If you did not know anything about it, the Writer's Trust sponsors and organizes a large number of awards and other programs for writers. For instance, the Journey Prize, for which I am short-listed. Their big gala is tomorrow, when the winners will be announced, but since nominees, employees and board members had not yet met in most cases, and because many people had travelled from quite far to be there, they gave a dinner party beforehand to bring us all together.

What a wonderful idea, despite the fact that it combines all my love/hates--strangers, famous people, eating standing up. But I had my annual hair-straightening indulgence this afternoon, and wore make-up and my party tights (argyle!), so I felt semi-ok after a few minutes wandering around introducing myself to people I didn't know. The people from the Trust were really friendly, and tried to introduce everyone to everyone, plus there was a speech where all present were given little intros. It was quite interesting to put faces to some of those names; people look very different when they are moving and talking than in a little window on the back of a book.

I have also learned a little bit of wisdom about writer-parties, which I will share, in case you need it: writers are perceptive and observant. They notice body language and respond to it, so if you reveal in your posture or gaze that you are feeling uncomfortable, some writer will likely arrive at your side and try to set you at ease. On the other hand, writers know other writers to be weird, so if you pretend you are having a grand time staring at this bit of the wall where it goes behind the bookshelf, writers will think that's plausible and leave you to enjoy yourself uninterrupted. So I looked uncomfortable because I was uncomfortable, and numerous people were very kind, and then I wasn't uncomfortable anymore and I just looked like myself.

And I only lost one bit of food to the floor. If you are reading this, dear host, there is a baby carrot under the chaise lounge and I'm really sorry about that. Otherwise, it was a wonderful wonderful night.

Good night!

Set out for / a great adventure
RR

Spinny

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

Weekender

Although I have spent the afternoon groggily at the library, staring out the revolving doors at the grey rain and occasionally getting a little work done (and, yes, answering library-related questions, too), this was an exciting weekend. Yesterday started off slow, with a morning and an afternoon of work, but all my students were well behaved, uninterested in pitching onto the floor, yelling at each other or trying to pull the feet off the rubber chicken (a perennial desire of theirs, for some reason). This counts as a win, no?

As it turns out, the "Idle Tigers" lives an hour and a half from where I work, which is terrible but worth it. The housewarming tea-and-watermelon party proved delightful, even though I was very late. Then I went back uptown a ways, to collect Small Kitten (all my friends are felines??) for dinner. For someone whose ankle is broken in many places, that girl can really move. Even stairs!

Post-dining, we went to the Bedford Academy for Jessica's birthday party (Jessica has no webpage named after a cat, but she's still awesome). I eventually had to scurry off for the last party of the evening, Shannon's (Shannon also with the no web presence. How weird.) That party was also awesome, once I arrived (guacamole! multi-leveled patio! gnomes plural!) but to get there I had to run the gamut of Taste of the Danforth, which quite honestly made me want to die.

The music was great, the food smelled good, but I had by that point already seen a lot more people than I usually see in a day, and there were many many many many more on the Danforth, all of whom had a dog, a child, a bicycle and/or a roti slowing down their progress. Even worse, when I left, many were drunk, too. You couldn't go anywhere fast, and I spent several minutes pinned against the roti stand, being sad.

I don't mind crowds, but I don't much like them, either, and really, most street festivals of that sort strike me as big delicious disasters. I would never go voluntarily. I guess deep in my heart, I am sort of a hermit.

But I did have fun this weekend with all those nice people. Now off to eat some sushi.

I went into the red / I went into the black
RR

Edit--10:45pm--this post didn't get published when it was written, just before 6pm, because after I made the closing announcements at 5:55 pm and sat down to proofread this, a man came to the desk and demanded my name because he found the "intonation of the closing announcements is absolutely inappropriate and very upseting." I said he could file a complaint and my supervisors would reprimand me if necessary. He said, "Why won't you give me your name, why, I'm a patron of this library, why!" My answer, "Because you are scaring me." It's not like I thought he was going to smack or stalk me (probably) but there was so much rage being directed at me that I could nearly feel it, and, possibly irrationally, I didn't want him knowing anything about me. Terrifying. Finally the supervisor offered him her name and he wrote that done and went away, wrathfully.

But then I went and ate sushi that floated by in tiny boats, and felt better.

So sleepy

I went to bed 'round 3 last night, and woke up around 7 to do a bit more marking before heading out to teach the yutes some grammar--and then mark more. Now, when I'm down to 29.5 exams left to mark and could finally unguilt myself enough to sleep, I am consumed with the desire to tell you about the fun party I went to last night.

Our department head threw it at her (gorgeous) house, as a mixer for all cohorts--past, present and future--of creative writing at our school and the other uni in town that offers it. So it was all ingenuous aspiring writers and the wise sucessful ones who mentor us--all writers, writing teachers, and one musician/producer. Of course, some of my favourite folks were there, but even all the strangers were charming. Maybe the secret is to always party with writers, who are professionally into being interesting and also usually really good food.

Maybe the secret is to always wear a bridesmaid's gown. I had thought I would wear it on Thursday to my defense, on the grounds that it is the nicest thing I own and the defense currently the most important thing going in my life. My mother, however, was so vocally dismayed at the prospect of even thinking of me entering an official academic context in said gown that I couldn't go through with it, despite having already made vague asserstions to Mister Mentor to the contrary. So I was pressed to wear it to the party, which I was ever so glad I did. Man, I love that dress--so swirly. That Laurk has impeccable taste. And I didn't even spill anything on it.

I was so enjoying myself that, when towards the end of the evening when the graduands were toasted, it was realized that I was the only one left. The toast was amended to, "To Rebecca!" In my state of delirious exhaustion, this sounded exactly right.

29.5 more exams. But Melanie is somewhere in the city, so I expect tomorrow won't be an entirely serious day.

there was a hedge back home in the suburbs

RR

PS--Consider a glass raised to *all* graduands, in writing, legal translation, med school, wherever your educational path is leading.