In good news my new chapbook has arrived. Some poems go back 6 or 7 years waiting for a place to live. It’s good to have them in the page finally. When I get myself sorted I’ll scan the cover and add a way to buy it. Apart from at the launch May 15th.
That’s in under a month. Which in mid-life time is 3 blinks and a sleep.
And on the 23rd is the launch of Vertigoheel for the Dilly at Raw Sugar. Co-reading with Kevin Spenst and Sneha Madhaven-Reese.
One hour at a time Sweet Jesus…ah… yes, hubby is right. Religious songs do sound like curses.
Too much pleasure ceases to be a pleasure and is converted to a stress, so to schedule less pleasure becomes more of a pleasure.
Books wait. Emails wait. Lifetimes don’t wait. People and moments blink in and out of existence. I really expected my uncle to be around long, to talk with him.
- Glad to get a lunch with a friend.
- Glad to make time for a walk most days. Keeps the keel even.
- Not so glad for the knee making a reflexive stretch and kicking the faucet but heel is thick enough to not bleed. And glad to live with someone who cares if I yelp.
- Glad to not be bored in repeating old mistakes. An infinity of new mistakes to make.
- Glad to make more steady pattern of meals. (Breakfast at 2pm and super at 2pm may be romantically continental and all but it also bears a resemblance to a sumo wrestler diet.)
- Glad to share the bed with a cat even if she takes 2/3 real estate unless we nudge her back.
- Glad that so far today gimpy hip hasn’t given any erratic jolts.
- Glad to have a place where we can self-determine when we eat, sleep, cook, shower, work. A place where there is quiet and a place to go outside where the weather doesn’t try to kill us.
- Glad to sleep solidly and to get to go to summery Paris in dreams.
The Bluebird Effect. Great detailed stories from bird rehabilitation.
And notice the comic effect: a new whistling bird outside the window but I’m too busy typing to turn my head.
And so much backlog to blog. Rather daunting.
I have ramped up a to-list that if it weren’t digital might put my back out to hoist.
I need to still. Today’s date date with hubby. That should help decompress.
- Glad, against all expectations of decades, to wake up again in the morning.
- Glad to be able to call my brain on its game and when its haranguing me (the way I wouldn’t tolerate in another person) to tune it out and dismiss it. It’ll still be trying to derail whatever I do but I see its game instead of getting caught up in its false wolf urgencies. Sometimes it will catch my body and my heart races but progress. It is just an indicator not a mandate or manager.
- Glad to have the sense to schedule time off and schedule time on so there’s life/work balance.
- Glad to have a place to go where we get recognized and welcomed back.
- Thank God for Kids so there’s magic for a while — how they turned a machine box and a lawn slope into a game and made a line taking turns sliding down their snowless hill
- Glad to get to a reading that makes the rest of the world drop away and to be able to surf in the poetry. That’s the 3rd time this year which as a rate is exceptionally high. Once was during 2 Dope Boys at Versefest, once during Ottawa’s Messagio and this during Steve Artelle’s reading. It’s the state of suspending disbelief that I think people can enter for music and movies and novels that is so rare and elusive.
- Glad to get to look forward to a chance to swim again.
- Glad for those small snippets of seeing friends to tide over until a longer sit with
- Glad for literacy and email to tide over to times when words aren’t needed
Glad Game: To start with the obvious, bananas, the blessed herb. All other fruit may taste plastic and smell like wax but at least there’s banana.
Glad that there’s some food my body doesn’t reject. Choco-fruitarian may sound like a glamourous all-you-can eat fondue life, but is pretty limiting.
Glad I’m not getting the visceral wall at the sight, sound, taste, smell or idea of meat. It makes it easier to walk in the world.
And muscle relaxants. Walk, baths, stretches, music can go a distance but at times, what a wonderful invention.
Glad for them all, ibuprofen, antihistamine and knowing the migraine meds are there in the wings.
The understandingness of hubby who does not hup-hup, c’mon get up at me. Some nights it takes me hours to sleep and then I wake for an hour or two in the middle. By 8 a.m. I may only be towards hour 5.
Glad for the release and for things made.
Thankful that sometimes I can write like 6 hours flat out yesterday. No need to eat or pause, rapid edits and clarity in groove. The fishing about for something to care about as I read or write is all washed back onto shore like so much bleached deadwood.
Glad for the joie de vivre of the cwazy cat that seems to mistake herself for an anklet that play-bites my feet.
Blessed are those who retweet or favourite on twitter so there’s an indication of saying something of interest.
Thankful for those who reply to emails with any length.
Glad that mom is gradually remembering that phoning after 10 a.m. is almost infinitely better than before 7 a.m. even if both seem like nearly afternoon to her.
Feeling blessed by people who are willing to read what I write and say I hear you.
Thankful for Wally Keeler and his uploads of videos of people hearing poetry on the street of Cobourg.
Glad for fresh safe water to drink.
Glad to anticipate chapbooks coming in the mail.
Glad for chapbooks received and such a richness of creativity.
Glad that rob mclennan can make so many ephemeral events and chapbooks and connect people.
Glad to see Versefest coming in 5 weeks.
Glad to have people who love me even when I seem to be bottomlessly futile,
- such as carrying the bag for photo walk, bring the lens but not camera body,
- such as sending the address to pick me up at but dyslexically flipping the numbers,
- such as finally nailing the pre-recorded segment of 2 Things I’m Reading This Week, but the mic was not switched on,
- such as setting out the clothes for the morning but it rarely matching the number of appendages I have (2 pants, no shirt, or 1 pants, 1 shirt but 3 pairs of socks or half a pair, etc ad nauseum)
- such as stammering and umming and mumbling and pretending that silence or omission can speak on my behalf
Glad I can still have time to learn, improve and accept.
Glad my self-talk is better and that I can recognize that there’s a noisy head roar of criticism that doesn’t make sense to oppose point by point. Let it wash.
Glad to get to a place where there are feelings and there is body and there is intellect and they aren’t at war or all shut out. There is a working peace in the kingdom most of the time.
Glad to get the bathtub cleaned. If the shoulds are monkeys on the back, a bathtub’s one heavy monkey.
Glad to get an excuse to use the paper cutter.
Glad the cat thinks I’m much more interesting when I cut paper into small squares than when I stare and move ideas around. Maybe she’s right.
Glad to get to share people and ideas that I think should be shared on the radio show.
Glad to find a bit of information that someone mentioned looking for and passing it on. Being an information clearing house always feels more useful.
Glad to have used up most of the food so I could clean out the fridge. Glad to get more food to restock because frozen mixed veggies is pretty dire.
Glad to be moving outdoors in the snow where there are no people and no gender count of what is said or not said by who.
Sorry to be in such an apocalyptic urban space with so few species visible and people hating what is here. But glad I can get away to wilder areas to breathe and restore.
Glad for the support of hubby and glad to work in symbiosis with him to make a small world where compassion, harmony and making each self better matter.
Glad to have access to computers and ability to use them for words, for images, for ideas, for people.
Glad for free flowing times that makes blocked times worth waiting out.
Glad for heavy sleep and sweet dreams, and visitations by grandmother and all past groups of people and places in life integrated.
Glad for being able to expect good in tomorrow.
Double Quote: “Give what you have to somebody, it may be better than you think.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and
“Is life too short to be taking shit, or is lie too short to be minding it?” ~ Violet Weingarten
Glad Game: We happened across a friend on the street. I automatically waved. Both of those are good and that I didn’t crumple from sudden shoulder movement. It was more of a salute until the shoulder hit a wall 3/4 lifted, but still, that’s farther than its been for I don’t know how many weeks.
Book was ordered. I shipped it. I didn’t charge enough for postage so griped and then life dropped a toonie at our feet for my troubles. I tell you, it’s hard to keep a good kvetch going sometimes.
Let there be light and there was and it was good: the basement window which was boarded over when we got our place has now been unboarded and it admits light and air. That brightens it up down there.
Halloos received from a few friends. That’s rather nice.
Muffins in the mailbox. That sure never happened in condo life. In a condo it had all the isolation of being a hermit and none of the advantages of quiet or privacy. Being on the ground again has all kinds of unexpected perks like new lovely neighbours.
Sister Teresa of Proces Constituent in Catalan Spain is thinking of bigger boxes that better social policy and more self-determination can fit in.
The Ottawa Public Library has another lineup of poetry workshops
Oh, and I’ve been reminded that not everyone is on twitter or FB and the blogs go where some of them don’t. It’s kind of counterintutive since there’s more interaction at the FB and Twitter but yes, I should mention here as well, a recording of Literary Landscape is archived at my author site.
That caught was thanks to plan C: the recording by Hubby At Home Manoeuvre. Not much of the time, not the majority of the time, but every now and then, intentions turn out. How about that.
I like the sentiment of the quote below, even if it’s kind of right and wrong. Expecting perfection and professional to be synonymous and that there is a place where one’s learning and curiosity stops while skills keep right on going seems misguided and not entirely benign. At the same time, much is lost by giving up too soon, by “good enough” and starting to call it in. And everything is a skill. Learning itself and teaching are skills. All is acquired. Even, I’ve heard, patience.
Quote: “Amateurs practice until they get it right; professionals practice until they can’t get it wrong” ~ quote investigator says a variant of it went to 1902 to school superintendent George W. Loomis
Glad Game: Fan.
Terrific crashes of lightning.
Fans. I’m a fan.
Getting caught up on the course.
Plans in place to go to a lake.
The new endeavour of being a radio host.
No-particular-reason-for-writing emails from friends.
Getting the local paper.
Respite by going by air conditioned busses.
The portability of writing. Could go to a beach with it. If there weren’t a tornado watch.
Seeing friends earlier this week.
Plans underway to catch up with other lovely people in the coming weeks.
Evenings cooling off enough for cuddles to not be too sticky and sweaty.
Ability to decipher my penmanship, even when weeks old.
Also my punmanship.
Capacity to see past glasses that are fogged up from just sitting.
Long talks airing out the heads with hubby.
While not caught up to all my to-do list, at least I’m not totally overwhelmed and dismayed.
More downpour splashing its silver back at the flipped silver backs of leaves.
Some of those trees could manage a hoola hoop better than me.
Quiet excitement is so much better than drama.
Quote: “to see things in the seed in genius” ~ Lao Zhu
But not like it’s a bad word. Pretty blues.
That’s it. More glimpses from around the planet at Our World Tuesday.
Wait, hold the press publish button. A mini glad game first:
Glad that: vacation plans are taking shape. We didn’t go on holiday last year. Integrating a good pace to life is good progress, but taking off is good too. Glad that mom seems to be doing well. Glad to get another letter started. Glad to be cat-sitting. Hub and I managed to bang heads in the night with such a smack that I saw a blue flash of light. Here comes the cat part. She came running and sat nearby and purred comfort. Wisely out of reach since mid-groggy coordination could take out an eye. And glad that I have access to email and plans to see a friend soon in person even. How cool, I won a t-shirt. When I get it, I’ll show. Glad that Call Me Katie is performing next month at Rasputin’s. Glad to get a book in the mail. Yay, more Phil Hall. I can carpe the diems as they come. Glad I can turn on a diem.
Noteable Quoteable: “I no longer have my entire life ahead of me (I can tell because I just looked over my shoulder…)” ~ Martha