The internet is visual Redbull. It’s easy to get overstimulated. It can be all heroes arc and villains all the time without nuance. Infinite options, news, some kind of informational black hole. The rate of reading is so much faster disclosure than conversations wending about.
Somewhere on twitter someone said it articulately. Something like: Say no to any things that aren’t a ‘heck yeah! I’m in.’
To add to the glad game, migraine medd, Motrin and sympathy when I crash.
Phone connection and emails to check on those I love from far off.
An aunt being back out of the hospital.
Making time for a walk and a spontaneous date long enough to get thru debriefing and onto dreaming. HY.
There is so much to do but balance means mixing it up. There’s no natural end to work. Boundaries are arbitrary and imposed.
I could keep on going headlong, or allow myself to be pulled up short by, “I’m not demanding that you work harder or faster. What I’m asking you is what your priority is.”
Lack of focus can be a good thing. The body kicks against it but still it’s a Heck Yeah.
While I don’t entirely approve of premature jubilation for Christmas, dozens of little kids shouting Merry Christmas kinda wavered me over the line.
And although I know I give too much information all clustered up at once, a lot goes on.
And the bonhomie of the Railroad reading Series last night with a warm room of poems by Yvonne Blomer, Paul Tyler Monty Reid, Claudia Radmore.
And tomorrow, Santa comes to town. Not this town. Kemptville.
And an hour later Roland and I read at the library at 1 Water Street, which is mid-way thru the route, which is probably done by then, right. How fast can 100 floats move?
Aren’t they pretty? I finally got a minute to take a look at my new title! today’s woods came out on Saturday at the Ottawa small press fair. It comes with subscription packages of above/ground.
It is play in the story of the three bears, legends and cultural cartoons of bears versus real information of real bears. For example,
Scenario A, they were called away from the meal on emergency
and to add insult to injury came home to a home invasion.
dad entered first. don’t go by size or slender frame: I’ve seen
large sows that could mistakenly be identified as males
The thing I like from the fair is seeing what’s new, making one of my biggest income days of the year, and how it’s like a reunion; a chance to chat with people, new and familiar. Great to talk to people. For a relative hermit like me, spending most time writing at home, it’s a social extravaganza.
It’s fun to see people go all bug-eyed at the plethora. I offered one little kid a wooden heart and he went to eat it. The dad caught the hand. Kid looked confused. Apparently when adults offer kids things, it’s usually food. Or else there’s an eat impulse.
Some is done. Bird Facts as wonderful on the page. And letterpress pretties.
I was pretty tied to my table by running it myself. Next time I’ll get someone with me again so I can run about more. (I’ll add that to my list of things to prepare for fair. A list helps. Or else I forget key things, like lunch, or a tablecloth, or a float.)
With wearing my CKCU swag. Christian McPherson took my photo:
Also across the way was in/words
and Margaret Virany with her 3rd book:
My table with things I composed, or edited, or published under my press phafours.
Last fair people more often wanted to buy mini chapbooks individually. This time, packaged ones of the fall set or the spring set were the thing. (But then, it only takes a few people to make a pattern from randomness.)
Monty Reid’s Kissing Bug was the most popular by number sold, and by those who came by just to ooh.
As Sean Moreland wisely pointed out, some pay with appreciation and encouragement as the currency. Some pay cash. Both payments cheerfully accepted.
I’ll be at Meet the Presses in Toronto on the 22nd. That’ll be my first time there. A lot of presses I admire. (Shelves, are you ready for this?)
The last two weeks and the next three are pretty hectic then the five weeks after I can make large blocks for sustained projects.
Another post at pesbo soon, likely.
I was going to ease into the day and read, and did for a bit
One can touch the book and get swatted, or stay off her book.
Possession is 9/10th of the law, yes? (What Guttersnipe Spy Snitched that to the Cats?)
Yesterday everything became overwhelming and impossible. Yesterday crashed. No burn. Okay a little singed, and less singing around the edges.
I got up at 10, kinda up, and at quarter speed did some life-maintenance schtuff and fell into a deep sleep again at 4 until 6 then made it to 9pm and slept almost around the clock.
Sleep is a good doctor.
I’m still moving at half speed but the world doesn’t seem so daunting. My throat isn’t sore so maybe my immune system deflected the incoming or maybe it’s too soon to say.
But glad game:
- Sunshine that doesn’t twist behind and hurt the eyes
- Foot rub for aching feet
- Citrus. Sourcing clementines. A taste for grapefruit.
- Some days call for opening a new pair of socks. I keep a few pristine ones in their package for days such as this.
- Looking back and feeling like a dream echoes of well-being.
- To see friends happy.
- The glory which is delivery. Food brought to sofa when anything else seems as hard as taking the scythe to the field and pulling a millstone myself
- Files that open and are not in a haste to crash.
- Ah, well-timed comedy, Pages.
- The small victory of bringing a full change of clothes to the bathroom. Instead of say, 3 pairs of pants and no shirt.
- The small pleasure of combing the hair and the realization later that it means I can lift my arm without pain as a normal thing.
- The scent of aromatic eastern red cedar. I once nearly bought a chest of that and now our closet will be lined with it.
- Some loops take decades to complete. Let’s call this good.
- A cat who could be anywhere but chooses to flop near
- The fickleness of memory that cuts both ways. When spiralling down, can only see things that went that way but when upward, can access only upwards as salient. Knowing the game’s blindspots doesn’t detract from grabbing the next cab up
- Gradually learning when not to push it. Can’t. So be it. But want. But can’t. But chest compression. But life’s self-leveling so wait.
- The fingers have their own intentions. I aim to write slices and fingers type smiled. Is the part of my body that is sloppy also pressing an agenda of happy? Probably random misalignments that happen to signify. I’ll take it.
- Reading aloud together until one or the other falls asleep.
- Work I find useful and satisfying. Some design, some hands on, some promise of connecting right words to the mind that will receive them.