27 Sep 2009, 10:41pm
General Sports

Today, Fire on Ice

Have you noticed the wet roads — if you have wet roads there tonight — how they look like iridescent ribbons under the changing lights around curb? Have you noticed how satin ribbons look wet as if they’d be cold and yet each touch is sort of hand’s surprise at fabric warmth? And how Japanese Lacquer Art feels like how a smooth curve of pouring water should if your hand could touch so lightly that it wouldn’t add turbulence?

Out of all the gleanings and gleeing, what would be meaningful to say after that? It seems as soon as I turn to words, some illusion of meaning starts yammering away at the chance to use some phonemic toys and emotional loading pops up from behind the sofa and baffs the syntax on the head and the tussle is on. I’ll put that lot to bed and I’ll just show you pictures from hockey instead.
Bri watching Game practice shoots
Brian watching the warm up shots.

My cousin is in Junior B hockey. We watched the Perth Blue Wings play the Arnprior Packers today. Hub and I were with a dozen other family members in a pretty full arena. “We” won the game 4 minutes into overtime, and I didn’t win the 50/50 draw. [What is it about lottery tickets, job applications and poetry submissions that make me presume of course I’ll get it and be mildly surprised when I don’t?]

Perth Blue Wings vs Arnprior Packers Perth Blue Wings vs Arnprior Packers
An injured player is skated off. Other picture, fast skate down ice in hockey excitement as the game is tied 2-2 with 55 seconds left in the second period.

hockey, Junior B

Energy is perishable. Silence is hard to improve on. And improvement would be sound interaction not page.

And perhaps it takes a sustained month to change a habit. Perhaps that’s poppycock science spec. But it’s been, what, largely 2 months out of the swing of every day or two. I don’t think I will return at the same breakneck rate. I feel I want to be more choosy about what I consider salient and insert more pauses into my life to make a more sustainable, restful pace. It’s as if I have been panning for gold under a waterfall.

Quote: “Create your future from your future not your past. – Werner Erhard

22 Sep 2009, 1:02pm

Poetry Matters

Irish CountrysideOver at pesbo, I have more posts up, like the last one about how Sandra and I will be speaking at the Tree reading series tonight. The passing of the hat will be going to jwcurry who will be on hand with his books and ephemerals for sale. [P.S. A picture from it here]

That post also features a photo of a fun find that reminded me of Stuart Ross. Another post is on Gillerites and the like. There’s a verse from the road, a description of the writer home away from home of Shakespeare and Company in Paris, poetry finds in London and if you don’t get over to pesbo often, you may not have seen the poem draft from 12th arrondiseement.

btw, the picture is from the train from Dublin to Kilkenny.

Quote: “Yet against all odds, poetry circulates and is read. Rejecting the marketplace, costing almost nothing at all, it goes from mouth to mouth, like air and water. Its value and usefulness cannot be measured.” –Octavio Paz in The Other Voice

20 Sep 2009, 5:49pm

Photos and New

I’ve added a few photos that caught my eye in a quick flip thru. Here’s about 70 100 200 450 of those trip photos. And a post below… An interview with rob mclennan’s 12 or 20 questions with me is up this morning. A delightful oddity, pancake machine makes 200/hr and stacks them flapjacks. Kitchen Contraptions is fun.

Quote: “the type who makes mountains out of molehills and then sells climbing equipment.” – Ivern Ball

14 Sep 2009, 6:35am

En Route

As I start this post we’re on a siding inside a mountain. Ears fill with the displacement of oncoming. I will post it when I next can.

The ears keep popping, tunnel after last, after airplane, after mountain pass on bus. Do pilots wear protection to prevent what pearl divers used to get as an occupational hazard? – the cumulative effect of deafness from pressure changes.

heron watches I’ve been pondering Theraveda Buddhism again. That notion that equanimity is the desired state, well, desired in a manner of speaking. As Gotama Buddha said, it isn’t truth that is self-contradiction but a remnant of language that makes it seem so. To be in balance is to be attached and disattached. To be in any emotional state is to detach from any other possibility. To be in a position of neither being pulled nor pushing isn’t impassive or uncaring. It is a position to view from with as close to impartiality as possible. One accepts a lack of control and a state of being distorted in view. It keeps one in tension of wanting to know and being humble that the random factors is the knowing is broader than knowable. That is not to give up curiosity but to fire it. It is a no gain, no loss game because as good or bad of intent or effect, still one is subject to happiness, illness, serendipity, fear, death, new starts, samsara.

It seems unnatural to race about in cars in 80 km/h or in planes at 800 km/hr or to dive thru mountains. Yet people are bored while doing the extraordinary often. As we get bored with needing to eat again, sleep again, walk. Can’t we just make a camel-inspired device and breathe once every year or so and save time?

Expectation is part of the substance of perception. We sit in a metal and glass tube of light in a tube of dark arch. We will move again thru many more tunnels as we go thru the rills of foothills. There’s a sense of blasé as people stare at their respective magazines or from behind their iPods of another time and place. There’s order and randomness. The man with the rooster crow ring will probably receive another call. Or perhaps not, the past being a lousy map for the future.

We’ve been on the road a month now. To some Canadians that is surprisingly long. To some French and Italians with more of a travel habit, why not 6 months or a year?

Each neighbourhood feels distinct and new as used clothes. And yet things have been around longer than expected. For thousands of years terra cotta roof tiles have been the same as now. In 400 B.C. smelting to make little farm animals, geese, dogs, cattle.

There’s continuity around hills you can’t see past. Contiguousness.

And breaks from anticipated. I think in Ireland and London I expected to understand “my language” so it was disconcerting to get nothing from some accents but in France I understood more than I expected and could read some magazines there and in Italy. That expectation distortion rising again.

Changing accomodations is like a clapper sounding through meditation calm. There’s no knowing how one gets clothes washed where next. Or what a bank is called here or what kind of store one buys shampoo or safety pins in. One place there’s ubiqitious beer smd meat and chocolate not to be had for love or money and another has vending machines selling chips, candy, water, rum and half a dozen varities of beer but not alcohols after 9 pm Friday thru Sunday. Curious. Unpredictable. Inconsequential. Accumulating but movement is not progression. Is there progress on return?

5 weeks’ travel
no arrival
until my own chair?

9 Sep 2009, 5:42am

A Little Italy

Drawing on my French and Spanish and schemas of what is likely, occasionally I lose the distinction between having the foggiest idea of what is going on with having an understanding of a language. I further my misunderstanding by thinking I can speak it. What am I doing? In Canada I can’t even remember gelato shop English for which marron is! Yet at a general store in Tuscany mountains I say some mispronounced spanglais and make a clear repeated gesture. I hope it backs up what I mean when I say “give me a piccalo slice de quesa” but I may just have insulted the firstborn of that nice lady in the apron. She looks a mix of confused and tired. I think I may be implicated as cause.

On the plus side I seem to have left the religieuse-pastry-styled blisters back in France and hubby helped me navigate a pharmacy for ibuprofen. Maybe buying 14 books to lug in a backpack as well as clothes and food wasn’t entirely a swell idea. P.S. As soon as I put the backpack on I realized what the hip ouch was — straps cinched too tight

Or maybe my hips and back were the culminative effect of non-stop hiking and walking and stopping and gawking for weeks. It couldn’t have been the 9 or 10 km round trip up a mountain. That was leisuely. And completely worth it for the views, exploring, conversation and the bracing wind at the top of pine times umpteen million passes through boughs.

As we switch accomodations we can leave the majority of gear at the convent and continue to settle in around Cortona. We’re rather smitten with the area.

This week, by design amd desire, holds more quiet time for being. Sun, books, walks.

It finally feels like summer just as people are going back to school. Ain’t that the way.

Quote: “If you came this way,
Taking any route, starting from anywhere,
At any time or at any season,
It would always be the same: you would have to put off
Sense and notion. You are not here to verify,
Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
Or carry report. You are here to kneel”-T.S. Eliot

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