29 Nov 2012, 12:41pm
Glad Game Thirteen Thursday

One Foot After the, How Does that Go?

Our very own icicles.

13 wee successes

  1. Found the winter boots in a random basement box.
  2. I’m not going to list getting out of bed. So, um. Went to the doctor. (What a cheerful clinic of staff.)
  3. Read book with Hubby. Wrote letters to my moms. ‘Rithmatic of budget looked at.
  4. Ok, I’ve reconsidered. Getting out of bed counts. Showered. Ate breakfast. The whole 9 yards to the desk. (Even on consecutive days!)
  5. Deleted 17 18 GB of files, mostly photos, some accidental videos, a few apps. (Phew. Room.)
  6. We got the Christmas lights and wreath up.
  7. Managed to make it out to half the events I intended. Better to be 100% at what you attend than to be less than 100% of what you’d like to attend. Made peace, for an interim, with being finite of energies. Glad I got to the last Tree with David O’Meara and Daphne Marlatt.
  8. Wrote things. Yep. “Some new thing is always exploding in me, and it schedules me” ~ Ray Bradbury
  9. Finished a course on using history in poetry with John McCullough with won the Polari Prize during the course. Living alongside exciting times.
  10. Dove into Experiment-o. Nummy issue.
  11. Read at the open mic. Didn’t go blind and deaf for as long on either side for nerves as long as I do sometimes.
  12. Took some pictures that mostly please me, and gratifyingly, some of the subjects like them as well.
  13. By clockmaker method, getting myself a few days in advance, I’ve kept the food blog running daily.

Quote: “Any idiot can face a crisis: it’s this day-to-day living that wears you out.” ~ Anton Chekov

22 Nov 2012, 5:05pm

What Makes Home

Home felt like home as soon as we moved here.

What makes it home?

The 2 o’clock sun on my back in my chair.
Wood and shapes of spaces that are scaled to us.
Walls being ours to touch up with paint.
The other’s breath and expectation of its return.
Knowing where to find the pens, the paper, etc.
Being invisible and private inside these walls.
Having space to display thing we like to see.
Open wifi.
Friends who drop by.
Being around enough to know the routine of garbage and mail.
A feeling of safety to walk outside without being accused or otherwise accosted.
Being able to control when and what we eat, when we sleep and rise without debate.
Ground to walk on that no one gates us out of.

[More 13s]

Quote: “What touches us most is a feeling of disbelief./Drawn in by what we can’t accept and can’t deny.” ~ Rachel Simpson, Eiderdown

21 Nov 2012, 2:57pm
Books Ottawa Photos Poets
Comments Off on Dusty Owl

Dusty Owl

Mark Goldstein (Form of Forms, BookThug) listening to his co-reader Spencer Gordon (Cosmo, Coach House) at Dusty Owl:

Spencer read of pop culture and Mark of adoption.

The Owl flies at the Elmdale one more time, for the Ottawa Food Bank Fundraiser on Dec 2, before it changes venues.

As of Jan. 2013, the Dusty Owl Reading Series will be moving to Mugshots, the in-house bar at the Ottawa Hostel, beside Arts Court with the first reading by Luna Allison.

sun in the tavern
[A wordy Wordless Wednesday]

Quote: “I think of an author as somebody who goes into the marketplace and puts
down his rug and says, I will tell you a story, and then he passes the hat.” ~ Robertson Davies

19 Nov 2012, 8:01pm

Turn of Seasons

Can we agree not only barefoot and shorts weather is over but even indoors without a sweater layer are behind us?

I’d add a photo here but Flickr is feeling fickle so I can’t grab the code.

frost on the crunchy ground
Not only the puddles but the ground is all crunchy too.

rob mclennan and Mark Goldstein
Definitely coat weather. Here rob mclennan and Mark Goldstein walk and talk poetry after a Dusty Owl as a gaggle more of us straggle along.

squirrels want into the compost
Back at home, the squirrels are hungry and eating their way into the composter. That must make for tiny stomach aches. The other composter is open but apparently pumpkin is passé now, or else they have to have whatever they can’t reach.

pickled eggs at the Tavern
The Elmdale Tavern is changing hands. I thought I should capture for perpetuity their pickled cheese braids but alas, they’re already gone and gallon of pickled eggs is getting down to the last few too.

Speaking of food, I’m waiting for the last few minutes before the lentil tortiere is done and supper can begin.

All meals are time shifted these days. It seems not just meals. Garbage pick up and mail delivery all got bumped to a later schedule too. At some point it won’t matter when the day becomes 8 hours 42 1/2 minutes long. Most things will happen in the dark.

I have a backlog of notes of all the good goings on lately at 4 events in 4 days. I should make no promises so this doesn’t constitute one. But maybe I’ll get into those notes by Wednesday.

Quote: “‎We don’t make a photograph just with a camera, we bring to the act of photography all the books we have read, the movies we have seen, the music we have heard, the people we have loved.” — Ansel Adams [via, via]

14 Nov 2012, 10:12am

Drop of a Lens

The green and purple snakeberries mean school is coming and squishing wrinkle-red means past halfway across fall to Christmas. [Wordless]

The big weekend runs this way with us giving poetics talks tomorrow and the small press fair at the Jack Purcell Community Center this Satuday afternoon. And readings Friday night, including Rachel Simpson whose poems impressed me enormously the last couple chances I saw her.

Quote: “To resist the frigidity of old age, one must combine the body, the mind, and the heart. And to keep these in parallel vigor one must exercise, study, and love.” ~ Bonstettin

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