18 Nov 2014, 9:37pm
General Glad Game

Don’t Just Do Something, Sit There

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.’

morning light
Morning light. HY.

making your own souvenir
Letterpress print a card. HY.

tray for the table
Cheesecake. HY.

Desirée Desirée
Desirée climbing about chewing my hair. HY.
(And circle of people unpictured to not harass people all the time. Their HY.)

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.

sleepy kitten
Stop to watch the snoring cat whose fallen nose-first on the sheet. 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.

Pearl reading Roland
Roadtrip reading with friends. HY.

Lingering conversations. HY.

Stop to watch a llama (or alpaca) kitted out for Christmas. HY.

While I don’t entirely approve of premature jubilation for Christmas, dozens of little kids shouting Merry Christmas kinda wavered me over the line.

PB150098 PB150011
Wave to any fireman dogs and antique truck fireman at the Kemptville Santa Claus parade.

Bagpiping Christmas carols. HY. Like jello wigglers.

Wave to Santa even if his beard doesn’t turn with his head.

outside library
Heed Voltaire’s advice. HY. Like no one cares. Because they do or they don’t. But only you can.

14 Nov 2014, 8:01pm
Comments Off on Moving from Beauty to Beauty

Moving from Beauty to Beauty

pool cu(t)e
Cute overload risk.

pool cu(t)e
We played some pool with some sharks, including one with a fluffy dorsal fin.


frosted roof 4
Then first heavy frost.

And although I know I give too much information all clustered up at once, a lot goes on.

snow on the whatsit
I mean there was snow. Another toddler was asked “do you want to carry this in?” “No, I want to carry snowballs.”

snow on the rake
It’ll probably be gone by morning but for now, wow.

snow on the roses
I forgot winter’s beauty. I’m adapting. It was -7 and I was out in t-shirt and sandals.

All this a Cooper’s hawk landing on our porch railing then flying to a perch right outside our door.

all the readers
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?

Full life.

13 Nov 2014, 6:18pm

Autumn Beauties

We’re going to try to overwinter the littlest carrots but the big ones are ours now!

Tree full of its glory. Hard to believe one’s eyes at such glowing colour.

Golden hour on the kale and carrots.

PB130005 (2)
New from phafours press: doing & undoing by avonlea fotheringham.

Chapbooks! Fair’s fair!

new chapbook!
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.

Other things of the fair:
books & chapbooks & ephemera
Including various things I’ve been meaning to get for a while. I have much reading ahead of me.

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.)

pearl at phafours,
With wearing my CKCU swag. Christian McPherson took my photo:
Christian mcPherson

Also across the way was in/words
in/words table

and Margaret Virany with her 3rd book:
Margaret Virany

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.)

The wood veneer bookmarkets were suprisingly popular as covet-items. I’ll have to make more of those. It’s a sapele wood veneer (an African mahogany).

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?)

Other new books and chapbooks that came in over the last couple weeks:
(Missing a few that are on the lam somewhere in the house.) More are coming in the mail.

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.

2 Nov 2014, 3:07pm
Glad Game
1 comment

Little Things that Slay or Play

I was going to ease into the day and read, and did for a bit

furry bookmark
until a certain furry bookmark parked herself across my notebook, iphone and book.

nummy gandhi, say nothing.
“Nummy Gandhi, hush,” sez kitty.

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.
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