Tonight Kaitlyn sent me a poem she wrote that reminded me of one I had written when I was just a little bit older than she is now. I think I was 14. I kept that poem for some reason, I think because I liked the idea and thought it might come in handy one day. As poems go, it was never that great. Over the years I've taken it out and toyed with it a bit. It's the inspiration now for a story I haven't finished yet . . . a story about an old woman who waits for a long lost love to return to her. I'm not sure it's a poem anymore (a prose poem perhaps? flash fiction?) Whatever it is now, here's the latest incarnation from 1999.
The Visitor
Knock — a single rap and then no more. Quick, soft, then gone — like a message spoken in haste, a mistake quickly retrieved. Is it real? Or have I imagined your knuckles upon my door? Like in my dreams, the echo brought to life by the wilful strength of my mind. Has my lost love returned? Or have my ears been fooled by my wish? Perhaps a tree's severed limb has been thrown against the door, like a bit of an innocent soldier's flesh flung from the trenches of war. A storm has captured the night. Thunder crashes amidst lightning flashes, like bombs launched but destined to remain in the sky forever, never landing. Lightning paints the world in unnatural jagged silver-white sheets. Trees bravely fight the fierce howling wind. The birds and little forest animals, overwhelmed and outnumbered, have long since surrendered and defeated without protest skulked home where they hide waiting for peace. Electricity cut by the enemy, clutching a candle, my knuckles white, I creep to the door hoping it is you but believing it is the tree.
Flash — a face pale and wet is framed in the window for one startling moment, frozen in the storm's paralysing photograph — then gone, the night swallowing it whole. Your face, beyond the reach of my candle's weak flame, but I know it is you. I run to the door, fumble with the locks and fling it open not caring that the wind having found the weakness in my armour will invade my fortress. And there you are. Tired. Battered by the storm. But not beaten, not wounded, unscathed and alive. You are alive and returned safe to my arms, soaked and chilled through the bone, but here with me, my dream incarnate. You are the same with hands callused and strong, body towering and lean, face hardened and sharp, eyes dancing with —
No. Eyes not dancing at all. Eyes lifeless and dull. What has happened? Have I remembered the eyes wrong? Perhaps . . . perhaps . . . But . . . Your smile remains the same, broad and so white against your tanned skin. It's so joyous to be held in your arms again. Your embrace has not been forgotten or altered in the depths of my memory. Still warm. Still comforting. Still safe. The words upon your lips are the very words I always wanted to hear, words you withheld before. The words flow loose and free, finally released, but not forming the question as I dreamed. Still, the words nonetheless — You will be my wife. Oh, I will. I will. Your lips lower and part meeting mine. Your kiss so sweet and soft like clover, freshly mowed grass. I do remember your kiss. I remember craning my neck to lose myself in that kiss. But this kiss . . . This kiss is cold as death and rank as a rotting corpse. It is not you. This man I kiss, this man I'm to wed is not you. "Who are you?" I scream clawing to escape. And the thunder crashes. And the door is blown open. And the wind surrounds the candle's flame, killing it. And the lightning flashes freeze framing the demon. Then blackness. Darkness smothers me as the demon laughs loudly above the roar of the wind. The wind tamed and powerless in the demon's presence.
Awake. The sun shines. The birds sing. Squirrels chatter in the trees. And I lie alone in my tiny bed thankful I've only had a bad dream. Nightmares my darling, from missing you so much. But now it is the day and I am safe and the day is beautiful and bright. Nothing in the world could ever be wrong. I stretch and yawn, well rested despite my horrible dream. And it is only then that I notice, only then that I see it, only then that I feel it . . . on the third finger of my left hand —
A golden wedding band.
Mood: somewhat withdrawn
Drinking: water still, we're out of the good stuff
Listening To: With or Without You, U2
Hair: I can no longer bear to look at it in the mirror
Friday, October 22, 2004
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Nerds & Turds
Turns out the Nick Nolte Diary is not being written by Nick Nolte, which makes it slightly less fun to read. I should have guessed earlier that if it sounded too much like Nick Nolte it had to be aspiring screen writers. Get the full scoop from E! Online. Taia, thanks for the heads up on that one. If they continue to blog though, I think I'll keep reading. It's still pretty funny. Or I could leave those nerds high and dry and head on over to Jeff Bridges' site. They're doing some interesting stuff over there . . . apparently, they scan in his handwritten notes, which is kind of different.
So tonight while I waited for my supper to cook (I made bacon-wrapped chestnuts smothered in garlic butter and mozzarella -- Yummy! And great when you're doing Atkins, which I'm not . . . so, just a big old clogged artery in a bowl.) Anyway, I was sitting in the living room channel surfing when Mom drove in. Of course when Nick heard her car he jumped up and ran past my chair to bark in the window. I heard a thud. He skidded to a stop and half-turned to see what was up . . . and to both our horror, there was a turd lying on the floor. His belly hit the ground and he sneaked over into the corner where he threw himself down with a huge sigh. And I cleaned up the little mess. He's a long-haired beast (part sheep dog I think) so this kind of thing can happen every now and again, lingering bits caught in the hair come loose when he bounds or jumps. What's really funny is his reaction when it happens -- Oh the horror! He becomes so embarrassed he just goes and hides, sighing really loud, and looking around occasionally as if to say, "What are you looking at me for? Nothing going on over here." This I can laugh about -- solid, dry, good for making fun stuff . . . It's the times that he's been sick with the runs or constipation . . . yeah, those times, not so much fun.
Mood: perplexed
Drinking: water, straight up, no chaser, of the bottled variety, but not a name brand
Listening To: Big Balls, AC/DC
Hair: Let's not go there today, ok?
So tonight while I waited for my supper to cook (I made bacon-wrapped chestnuts smothered in garlic butter and mozzarella -- Yummy! And great when you're doing Atkins, which I'm not . . . so, just a big old clogged artery in a bowl.) Anyway, I was sitting in the living room channel surfing when Mom drove in. Of course when Nick heard her car he jumped up and ran past my chair to bark in the window. I heard a thud. He skidded to a stop and half-turned to see what was up . . . and to both our horror, there was a turd lying on the floor. His belly hit the ground and he sneaked over into the corner where he threw himself down with a huge sigh. And I cleaned up the little mess. He's a long-haired beast (part sheep dog I think) so this kind of thing can happen every now and again, lingering bits caught in the hair come loose when he bounds or jumps. What's really funny is his reaction when it happens -- Oh the horror! He becomes so embarrassed he just goes and hides, sighing really loud, and looking around occasionally as if to say, "What are you looking at me for? Nothing going on over here." This I can laugh about -- solid, dry, good for making fun stuff . . . It's the times that he's been sick with the runs or constipation . . . yeah, those times, not so much fun.
Mood: perplexed
Drinking: water, straight up, no chaser, of the bottled variety, but not a name brand
Listening To: Big Balls, AC/DC
Hair: Let's not go there today, ok?
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Worker Bee Mode
What an insane time I'm having with work. We're in the process of changing to a new design. I had a new issue ready to go on the weekend but I held it back a little because Jen had a new column coming in. In the meantime Joy had started working on the design change, but she didn't get it done by the end of the weekend and then she was off this week. So, I've been unable to publish the new issue because some of the site had the new look and some didn't and I've been left having to make all the changes myself. The design part is so not my thing! It's just so friggin' tedious and takes forever on dial-up. Anyway, enough griping, I just thought I'd better pop in and let you guys know I haven't run away and joined the circus . . . Yet! :-)
Briefly, in other news, I spent a relaxing evening at Carol's house earlier this week. I collected some of Kaitlyn's art for an article I'm working on about her. And we watched a movie -- Freddy Vs. Jason, which was a lot of fun. I've always loved Freddy, he's got the best one-liners and with my nightmares he's always been the horror villain I could relate to the most.
The Grudge opens this weekend but I haven't found anyone to go with me to see it . . . which is probably just as well.
I've been reading Nick Nolte's Diary everyday and loving it. I can hear his voice in my head when I read the pieces, which are always really short and there's only one every day, so it's easy to read his stuff. I get a kick out of him.
I have learned that U2 are going on tour and coming to Canada next year. I immediately went to the Ticketmaster website and signed up for alerts. If they play anywhere in Ontario or points east, I'm going! I will not miss Bono!! I can't see them coming to Halifax though . . . so, I'll probably be Toronto bound and how exciting will that be! Maybe if I'm really nice and remember to send a Christmas card this year, Taia and Ian will let me crash on the couch for a night ;-)
Mood: stiff
Drinking: cold tea
Listening To: Don't It Make You Feel, The Headpins
Hair: Mom told me today that it looks like Andy Dick's . . . so, there you go
Briefly, in other news, I spent a relaxing evening at Carol's house earlier this week. I collected some of Kaitlyn's art for an article I'm working on about her. And we watched a movie -- Freddy Vs. Jason, which was a lot of fun. I've always loved Freddy, he's got the best one-liners and with my nightmares he's always been the horror villain I could relate to the most.
The Grudge opens this weekend but I haven't found anyone to go with me to see it . . . which is probably just as well.
I've been reading Nick Nolte's Diary everyday and loving it. I can hear his voice in my head when I read the pieces, which are always really short and there's only one every day, so it's easy to read his stuff. I get a kick out of him.
I have learned that U2 are going on tour and coming to Canada next year. I immediately went to the Ticketmaster website and signed up for alerts. If they play anywhere in Ontario or points east, I'm going! I will not miss Bono!! I can't see them coming to Halifax though . . . so, I'll probably be Toronto bound and how exciting will that be! Maybe if I'm really nice and remember to send a Christmas card this year, Taia and Ian will let me crash on the couch for a night ;-)
Mood: stiff
Drinking: cold tea
Listening To: Don't It Make You Feel, The Headpins
Hair: Mom told me today that it looks like Andy Dick's . . . so, there you go
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Roughing it in the Bush
Oh Mrs. Moodie! I've never been able to finish your book . . . and now I think I know why. I don't find your "roughing it" experience to be all that exciting because it's just old hat around these parts.
This morning as Nick and I trekked about the yard looking for the best bushes to pee on and poop under, I noticed garbage strung from one end of the upper driveway to the other and all down into the ditch. Closer inspection revealed that the back end of the garbage bin had been ripped out. Yes, a bear pigged out on our garbage sometime during the night. (Really, who could resist Jen's bacon grease?) The way the boards were laying there ripped in two it kind of looked as if the beast had just swatted it with his big ass paw and sliced through the wood like a sword through tissue. So now I'm REALLY afraid to take Nick out after dark, which seems to only make him want to go out more and see what the hell I'm trying to keep from him. It's a Catch-22.
When we went out to supper and the movies on the weekend, Cindy told me her parents had a bear come onto their deck and right up to the patio doors where he licked the window. They live in the Plaster Rock area where apparently they've been having a really bad time with bears into everything, stealing stuff from people's fridges and freezers on their porches.
Stacy is going on bear safari this weekend in Rogersville area. Apparently, they've got it set up so that anywhere from 25-35 bears will come out and feed all at the same time while you watch and take pictures from a treehouse type thing 20 feet above them. That is SO not for me! It's like tempting fate isn't it? Isn't that the part of the movie where the audience starts screaming, "Don't go up in that tree, idiot! The bears will get you!" And then they groan and shake their heads when the character does it anyway. I suppose it'll be a thrill. She'll get some scary pictures. I'm just way too chicken . . . dump trauma from when I was a kid I think.
Mood: All fogged in
Drinking: hot chocolate spiked with brandy
Listening To: The Pretenders, Brass In Pocket on Virgin Classic Rock Radio live from the U.K.
Hair: getting blonder by the day . . . and fuzzy?! What's up with that?
This morning as Nick and I trekked about the yard looking for the best bushes to pee on and poop under, I noticed garbage strung from one end of the upper driveway to the other and all down into the ditch. Closer inspection revealed that the back end of the garbage bin had been ripped out. Yes, a bear pigged out on our garbage sometime during the night. (Really, who could resist Jen's bacon grease?) The way the boards were laying there ripped in two it kind of looked as if the beast had just swatted it with his big ass paw and sliced through the wood like a sword through tissue. So now I'm REALLY afraid to take Nick out after dark, which seems to only make him want to go out more and see what the hell I'm trying to keep from him. It's a Catch-22.
When we went out to supper and the movies on the weekend, Cindy told me her parents had a bear come onto their deck and right up to the patio doors where he licked the window. They live in the Plaster Rock area where apparently they've been having a really bad time with bears into everything, stealing stuff from people's fridges and freezers on their porches.
Stacy is going on bear safari this weekend in Rogersville area. Apparently, they've got it set up so that anywhere from 25-35 bears will come out and feed all at the same time while you watch and take pictures from a treehouse type thing 20 feet above them. That is SO not for me! It's like tempting fate isn't it? Isn't that the part of the movie where the audience starts screaming, "Don't go up in that tree, idiot! The bears will get you!" And then they groan and shake their heads when the character does it anyway. I suppose it'll be a thrill. She'll get some scary pictures. I'm just way too chicken . . . dump trauma from when I was a kid I think.
Mood: All fogged in
Drinking: hot chocolate spiked with brandy
Listening To: The Pretenders, Brass In Pocket on Virgin Classic Rock Radio live from the U.K.
Hair: getting blonder by the day . . . and fuzzy?! What's up with that?
What a Day!
My sinus infection was nearly the death of me today. I've been feverish all day, practically falling asleep in my chair as I tried to get stuff done. I do have this to show for my efforts, but the finishing touches that I anticipated taking an hour or so took about 10 hours in my drugged (and quite possibly drunken) position.
Strange dreams last night of love with a professor . . . my professor. I had gone back to school. The guy was actually a prof I had many years ago (he's probably dead by now, but hadn't aged a day in the dream). I can't even remember that professor's name now and I took several of his philosophy classes because I enjoyed him so much at the time. Pity.
Although in the dream I seemed to be more interested (quite smitten actually) by his huge trust fund than his charming good looks and warm smile. Could it be I'm subconsciously worried about all the money I've been spending lately on trips, books, shoes and dvds?
Mood: fuzzy around the edges
Drinking: brandy
Listening To: my throbbing sinuses
Hair: is that a bit of grey?
Strange dreams last night of love with a professor . . . my professor. I had gone back to school. The guy was actually a prof I had many years ago (he's probably dead by now, but hadn't aged a day in the dream). I can't even remember that professor's name now and I took several of his philosophy classes because I enjoyed him so much at the time. Pity.
Although in the dream I seemed to be more interested (quite smitten actually) by his huge trust fund than his charming good looks and warm smile. Could it be I'm subconsciously worried about all the money I've been spending lately on trips, books, shoes and dvds?
Mood: fuzzy around the edges
Drinking: brandy
Listening To: my throbbing sinuses
Hair: is that a bit of grey?
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Forgotten Already Forgotten
I went to the movies this weekend and saw The Forgotten with Juliane Moore. I was a bit disappointed by it. I had seen all of the scary parts in the previews and I had hoped the plot revolved around something more complicated and less stereotypical than aliens . . . but no such luck. This is one movie that will not be getting a second viewing on DVD.
Speaking of DVDs I bought a bunch this past week. First, I got a few from the Columbia House club including Almost Famous (the Bootleg Edition), Platoon (Special Edition), The Bourne Identity, Annie Hall, and a couple for the kids for Christmas. Then we went shopping after the movie on Saturday and I got Bon Jovi, This Left Feels Right (Special Edition), Starsky & Hutch, and Duplex. I have to take the Bon Jovi one back and exchange it because it's skipping, but even with the skipping I watched almost all of it and LOVED it!! It's from the Pay-Per-View concert they did in Atlantic City, the only time they'll ever perform that album live . . . EVER! I've looked high and low for this DVD for a year now, so I was pretty happy to find it. I hadn't realised the record store sold DVDs. Now, I know where to go looking for the box set when it comes out next month.
I'm suffering from yet another sinus infection I think. Funny, how you go your whole life without ever having a sinus infection and then you get two within a four month period. Maybe I've developed allergies in my old age. Something's up, that's for sure.
In major news today, Janice's baby arrived two weeks early and wasn't the much anticipated boy everyone thought was coming. Looks like Stacy will be able to buy all those cutie girl clothes afterall for little Amy Diane.
Mood: A little high on Flonase
Drinking: hot chocolate with cherry brandy
Listening To: Vivo Per Lei, Andrea Boccelli & Giorgia
Hair: tucked behind my right ear, covering my left eye
Speaking of DVDs I bought a bunch this past week. First, I got a few from the Columbia House club including Almost Famous (the Bootleg Edition), Platoon (Special Edition), The Bourne Identity, Annie Hall, and a couple for the kids for Christmas. Then we went shopping after the movie on Saturday and I got Bon Jovi, This Left Feels Right (Special Edition), Starsky & Hutch, and Duplex. I have to take the Bon Jovi one back and exchange it because it's skipping, but even with the skipping I watched almost all of it and LOVED it!! It's from the Pay-Per-View concert they did in Atlantic City, the only time they'll ever perform that album live . . . EVER! I've looked high and low for this DVD for a year now, so I was pretty happy to find it. I hadn't realised the record store sold DVDs. Now, I know where to go looking for the box set when it comes out next month.
I'm suffering from yet another sinus infection I think. Funny, how you go your whole life without ever having a sinus infection and then you get two within a four month period. Maybe I've developed allergies in my old age. Something's up, that's for sure.
In major news today, Janice's baby arrived two weeks early and wasn't the much anticipated boy everyone thought was coming. Looks like Stacy will be able to buy all those cutie girl clothes afterall for little Amy Diane.
Mood: A little high on Flonase
Drinking: hot chocolate with cherry brandy
Listening To: Vivo Per Lei, Andrea Boccelli & Giorgia
Hair: tucked behind my right ear, covering my left eye
Friday, October 08, 2004
Flexing my Writing muscles . . .
When I used to write creatively everyday, working on short stories and novels, I would begin the day with an excercise to get my brain cells into the creative spirit. Sometimes I'd write a little essay, but more often than not I would write cheesy little pieces of poetry. As I try to reconnect to my novel and the character of Callum I've been looking through a lot of my old notes and writing to reacquaint myself with everything I've already got down on that story. But I'm also finding some other things too . . . not necessarily great things, lol, but things I forgot I wrote. Here are a couple of poems I wrote a few years ago as warm-up exercises for a day of writing.
Words, sometimes
Rapidly flowing like a waterfall.
I'm unable to keep up. Sometimes
Trickling like a small brook,
Ignoring my thirst,
Nowhere to be found.
Gone to dust.
Memories,
worn like layers of heavy clothing
on a hot humid day,
immobilise,
paralyse, and smother. Peel the painful
layers in analysis;
shed
the black mourning suit in hypnosis;
the mothball scent
remains,
soaked into the very skin of the body
laid bare — naked and
frozen.
Absorb harmful UV rays, scorch the
aching tissue until it
blisters,
injured cells flake and scatter on the
wind. Skinned, raw meat and
nerves
exposed glisten, life's sweet nectar
drips forming a drowning
pool
on the ground. Do you sit unmoving,
stretching and embracing the
last
moments of tormented existence? Do
you run free for mere seconds,
rigor
mortis stopping you cold? SAVE YOURSELF!
Twist the body tightly into a
living
tourniquet, choke the spurting flow. No
need to gather the wool, memories
hold—
imprisoned in DNA.
Dark warrior pass me by,
pretend we are strangers
and have never known love.
Drawn to my white light
like a moth from the dark,
you have enjoyed sucking
my strength, extinguishing
my flame, turning my heart
to black stone. Do not
circle me, lone wolf, for
I know you are near, better
to slink in the shadows
than be recognised. My
brightness is too powerful
now, it overwhelms your brown
eyes. I am no longer damaged
or damageable. So, give me wide
berth for I can destroy you if
I desire. I have peered below
your shallow hide and seen the
soul living within that hollow
frame. And dark warrior I
must warn you —
I know your name.
Mood: surprisingly joyous
Drinking: diet pepsi
Listening To: Dry the Rain, The Beta Band
Hair: wet
Words, sometimes
Rapidly flowing like a waterfall.
I'm unable to keep up. Sometimes
Trickling like a small brook,
Ignoring my thirst,
Nowhere to be found.
Gone to dust.
__________________________________________________
Memories,
worn like layers of heavy clothing
on a hot humid day,
immobilise,
paralyse, and smother. Peel the painful
layers in analysis;
shed
the black mourning suit in hypnosis;
the mothball scent
remains,
soaked into the very skin of the body
laid bare — naked and
frozen.
Absorb harmful UV rays, scorch the
aching tissue until it
blisters,
injured cells flake and scatter on the
wind. Skinned, raw meat and
nerves
exposed glisten, life's sweet nectar
drips forming a drowning
pool
on the ground. Do you sit unmoving,
stretching and embracing the
last
moments of tormented existence? Do
you run free for mere seconds,
rigor
mortis stopping you cold? SAVE YOURSELF!
Twist the body tightly into a
living
tourniquet, choke the spurting flow. No
need to gather the wool, memories
hold—
imprisoned in DNA.
__________________________________________________
Dark warrior pass me by,
pretend we are strangers
and have never known love.
Drawn to my white light
like a moth from the dark,
you have enjoyed sucking
my strength, extinguishing
my flame, turning my heart
to black stone. Do not
circle me, lone wolf, for
I know you are near, better
to slink in the shadows
than be recognised. My
brightness is too powerful
now, it overwhelms your brown
eyes. I am no longer damaged
or damageable. So, give me wide
berth for I can destroy you if
I desire. I have peered below
your shallow hide and seen the
soul living within that hollow
frame. And dark warrior I
must warn you —
I know your name.
Mood: surprisingly joyous
Drinking: diet pepsi
Listening To: Dry the Rain, The Beta Band
Hair: wet
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Oh, the crisp air!
Man! Does the crisp fall air ever take me back! I'm reminded of . . .
school dances . . . Every year we would go to the first one in the fall and then decide they were too lame and never go to anymore until the next fall.
hot and heavy make-out sessions . . . Leaning against a tree, kissing, hugging . . . mostly trying to keep warm, lol. The taste of Hermits wine . . . God! A cigarette was always so good back then.
driving around with Bradley in that old rust coloured LTD . . . we couldn't go too fast or the roof would fall off . . . not kidding. We made him prove it to us one day on the highway by the old base (now prison). He punched it up a notch and we had to hold onto the roof when it started to fly off. Hilarious!
driving around with the boys in Mable . . . stretched out across at least 5 guys laps because we were piled to the ceiling, drinking Royal Reserve straight no chaser, listening to Bad to the Bone and AC/DC, laughing our guts out about . . . nothing at all.
meeting Stacy half-way between our houses to drink rye out of pickle jars and smoke cigarettes we stole from our dads.
sneaking into people's yards and switching lawn ornaments with their neighbours.
the Halloween bonfire! . . . and hitting someone on the other side of the fire with an egg . . . and having her blame someone else entirely, lol.
Mary Beth's parties!! . . . sitting on Kevin's lap, facing each other, my legs wrapped around the back of the chair and talking until dawn like there was nobody else around.
chicken salad sandwiches at the Pickle Barrel . . . and hot dogs from a street vendor.
the Eastwood! . . . crawling under tables, gathering up purses and coats, things crashing above me, Mary Beth and Kevin arguing about the insanity of the brawl, crawling all the way to the lobby before standing up and finding a safe crowd to stand with outside while I waited for someone to take me home.
outside a Catholic Hall Dance . . . in the graveyard, watching the most amazing meteor shower I've ever seen.
forming the Barnettville mafia at Uncle Terry's . . . staying up all night plotting our take-over of the local booze trade . . . and also the kidnapping of a particular blonde who worked at the liquor store.
the annual Halloween night Power Track sleepover to deter the kids from burning it down or robbing me blind . . . sober, cuddling on the couch watching the Stooges, big belly laughs . . .
Mood: energized
Drinking: pop
Listening To: Love Bites, Def Leppard & Here I Go Again, Whitesnake
Hair: Slick
school dances . . . Every year we would go to the first one in the fall and then decide they were too lame and never go to anymore until the next fall.
hot and heavy make-out sessions . . . Leaning against a tree, kissing, hugging . . . mostly trying to keep warm, lol. The taste of Hermits wine . . . God! A cigarette was always so good back then.
driving around with Bradley in that old rust coloured LTD . . . we couldn't go too fast or the roof would fall off . . . not kidding. We made him prove it to us one day on the highway by the old base (now prison). He punched it up a notch and we had to hold onto the roof when it started to fly off. Hilarious!
driving around with the boys in Mable . . . stretched out across at least 5 guys laps because we were piled to the ceiling, drinking Royal Reserve straight no chaser, listening to Bad to the Bone and AC/DC, laughing our guts out about . . . nothing at all.
meeting Stacy half-way between our houses to drink rye out of pickle jars and smoke cigarettes we stole from our dads.
sneaking into people's yards and switching lawn ornaments with their neighbours.
the Halloween bonfire! . . . and hitting someone on the other side of the fire with an egg . . . and having her blame someone else entirely, lol.
Mary Beth's parties!! . . . sitting on Kevin's lap, facing each other, my legs wrapped around the back of the chair and talking until dawn like there was nobody else around.
chicken salad sandwiches at the Pickle Barrel . . . and hot dogs from a street vendor.
the Eastwood! . . . crawling under tables, gathering up purses and coats, things crashing above me, Mary Beth and Kevin arguing about the insanity of the brawl, crawling all the way to the lobby before standing up and finding a safe crowd to stand with outside while I waited for someone to take me home.
outside a Catholic Hall Dance . . . in the graveyard, watching the most amazing meteor shower I've ever seen.
forming the Barnettville mafia at Uncle Terry's . . . staying up all night plotting our take-over of the local booze trade . . . and also the kidnapping of a particular blonde who worked at the liquor store.
the annual Halloween night Power Track sleepover to deter the kids from burning it down or robbing me blind . . . sober, cuddling on the couch watching the Stooges, big belly laughs . . .
Mood: energized
Drinking: pop
Listening To: Love Bites, Def Leppard & Here I Go Again, Whitesnake
Hair: Slick
I Will Remember
While I was away in Fredericton a couple of weekends ago, a man I used to know hung himself . . . Hangings in general bother me because that's how Brent finally went. Suicide is hellish business. I wasn't even that close to Brent and I had terrible episodes of guilt where I wondered if I couldn't have helped him more. I know, I know, crazy thoughts, but still that's the kind of mess suicide leaves behind. It's got to be 3000 times worse for the immediate family. But enough about Brent, it makes me sad. I wanted to write about Marven.
I haven't seen him in at least 10 years and the last time I did he wasn't the same guy I remembered -- too much drugs, drinking, etc. I used to know Marven when he was just a young man and I was still in high school. He would have been in his early to mid 20's I would say . . . too old for me to be hanging out with, but so was everybody in the crowd I ran with. Oddly enough at that time he represented the voice of reason in our crazy lives. He was often the one keeping the boys from getting in too much trouble, keeping us in line and under the radar, so nobody ended up in prison or dead. I'm sure anyone who knows who I'm talking about and the kind of loose cannon he turned into will find that amusing. But it's true.
Marven gave me one of the best pieces of advice I ever got in my life, something that I've never forgotten and always tried to live by. My last summer home before I went to Toronto to go to school was a pretty insane time for me. I was excited to be leaving but scared as hell. I was an emotional wreck really. I suffered from insomnia and wicked recurring nightmares. I got caught up in episodes of deja vu that lasted for 10 - 15 minutes at a time. I worried that I might get stuck in deja vu for the rest of my life, sitting by the sidelines, knowing everything that was going to happen before it did, unable to change anything or participate. It was a scary prospect and it nearly drove me crazy. Thinking back on those months, maybe I was a little crazy.
I remember I had a lot of freedom that summer. My family moved to the camp and I had the house to myself for months. I never brought anyone home, didn't have wild parties where we trashed the house . . . I just never came home, I stayed out on the roads traveling and partying, getting into all kinds of trouble, juggling two boyfriends -- I couldn't bear to be alone or straight for one second because then the reality of leaving would be too scary, the nightmares would take over. I only came home when I knew the folks would be stopping in and to shower. Sometimes I slept there, but I didn't sleep much that summer and most times I slept in cars or outside in fields. I guess I was a little out of control. And to top things off, I was pretty much a loner that summer. Stacy had stuff going on with her boyfriend, Donna and Gloria had moved. I was a girl on her own, whose best friends were a bunch of guys in their 20's, who were considered bad news. Interesting times, indeed.
I don't know that too many people noticed how fucked up I was. Well, I don't remember too many people reaching out to help me. But I remember Marven taking me aside one day. He asked me how I was, if I knew what I was going to do about school, about the boyfriends . . . It was kind of a fatherly gesture, which I know is really bizarre considering who he was, but still at that moment in that place I trusted him enough to tell him I wasn't doing so good and I was scared, I didn't know what to do. And that's when he imparted his words of wisdom that I've never forgotten. He said nothing was harder to live with than wondering what if. Screwing up might hurt like hell, he said, but I'd get over it eventually and that pain would go away. The pain of wondering what if would be something that would stay with me for the rest of my life, there would be no way to get rid of it and it would hurt more the longer I carried it around. He used to have some pretty intense philosophical moments back in the day :-) I never forgot his advice and he was right. Lord knows I've screwed up lots in my life but I don't regret my mistakes because I learned valuable lessons from each and every one . . . it's the things I didn't do, the things I chickened out on, the what ifs -- those are my only regrets.
Mood: nostalgic
Drinking: I think tea has started to give me heartburn . . . still, I'm drinking it . . . and eating peppermints to combat the heartburn
Listening To: Free, Rick Springfield
Hair: silky soft
I haven't seen him in at least 10 years and the last time I did he wasn't the same guy I remembered -- too much drugs, drinking, etc. I used to know Marven when he was just a young man and I was still in high school. He would have been in his early to mid 20's I would say . . . too old for me to be hanging out with, but so was everybody in the crowd I ran with. Oddly enough at that time he represented the voice of reason in our crazy lives. He was often the one keeping the boys from getting in too much trouble, keeping us in line and under the radar, so nobody ended up in prison or dead. I'm sure anyone who knows who I'm talking about and the kind of loose cannon he turned into will find that amusing. But it's true.
Marven gave me one of the best pieces of advice I ever got in my life, something that I've never forgotten and always tried to live by. My last summer home before I went to Toronto to go to school was a pretty insane time for me. I was excited to be leaving but scared as hell. I was an emotional wreck really. I suffered from insomnia and wicked recurring nightmares. I got caught up in episodes of deja vu that lasted for 10 - 15 minutes at a time. I worried that I might get stuck in deja vu for the rest of my life, sitting by the sidelines, knowing everything that was going to happen before it did, unable to change anything or participate. It was a scary prospect and it nearly drove me crazy. Thinking back on those months, maybe I was a little crazy.
I remember I had a lot of freedom that summer. My family moved to the camp and I had the house to myself for months. I never brought anyone home, didn't have wild parties where we trashed the house . . . I just never came home, I stayed out on the roads traveling and partying, getting into all kinds of trouble, juggling two boyfriends -- I couldn't bear to be alone or straight for one second because then the reality of leaving would be too scary, the nightmares would take over. I only came home when I knew the folks would be stopping in and to shower. Sometimes I slept there, but I didn't sleep much that summer and most times I slept in cars or outside in fields. I guess I was a little out of control. And to top things off, I was pretty much a loner that summer. Stacy had stuff going on with her boyfriend, Donna and Gloria had moved. I was a girl on her own, whose best friends were a bunch of guys in their 20's, who were considered bad news. Interesting times, indeed.
I don't know that too many people noticed how fucked up I was. Well, I don't remember too many people reaching out to help me. But I remember Marven taking me aside one day. He asked me how I was, if I knew what I was going to do about school, about the boyfriends . . . It was kind of a fatherly gesture, which I know is really bizarre considering who he was, but still at that moment in that place I trusted him enough to tell him I wasn't doing so good and I was scared, I didn't know what to do. And that's when he imparted his words of wisdom that I've never forgotten. He said nothing was harder to live with than wondering what if. Screwing up might hurt like hell, he said, but I'd get over it eventually and that pain would go away. The pain of wondering what if would be something that would stay with me for the rest of my life, there would be no way to get rid of it and it would hurt more the longer I carried it around. He used to have some pretty intense philosophical moments back in the day :-) I never forgot his advice and he was right. Lord knows I've screwed up lots in my life but I don't regret my mistakes because I learned valuable lessons from each and every one . . . it's the things I didn't do, the things I chickened out on, the what ifs -- those are my only regrets.
Mood: nostalgic
Drinking: I think tea has started to give me heartburn . . . still, I'm drinking it . . . and eating peppermints to combat the heartburn
Listening To: Free, Rick Springfield
Hair: silky soft
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Guest Starring . . .
I had a very active dream life last night, this dream that went on forever, and now I'm played out, won't be any good for anything all day.
Scene 1 -- I dreamed I won a contest to go to Montreal and meet Jessica Simpson at a big weekend benefit concert. But before I left there were problems at home. This bird flew into the house. It was a big bird, the kind you would buy in a pet store, not a parrot or any breed I recognised, but we knew it was someone's pet. It was pretty tame and I could hold it and pet it and it didn't bite me or anything. I was short on time, having to leave for Montreal to meet Jessica Simpson, and Mom was away so I needed Dad and/or Lee to take the bird around the neighbourhood and see if anyone owned him. But they wouldn't do it. Dad made me put the bird back outside. I was really angry that they wouldn't help me and I had to leave the bird. End scene.
Scene 2 -- I'm in Montreal at a swanky hotel/casino (much like Vegas, not much like Montreal). Celebrities are everywhere!! They're all staying in this hotel too where the benefit concert is taking place onstage in the showroom 24 hours/day all weekend long. J-Lo, Marc Antony, Justin Timberlake, Christina Aguilara, P. Diddy, Gwen Stefani, Nickelback, Celine Dion, even Shania Twain (this just shows how little control I have over the celebrity guest stars in my dreams). It was a crazy mix of people, all of which I just saw from a distance across the lobby or in the restaurant, never performing. I never actually went to the concert. The time came to meet Jessica Simpson in the restaurant. Nick Lachey was with her of course. I went and sat down with them, we ate dinner, we talked. She thought the concert was pretty cool. I realised this was being taped and I might end up on their Newlywed show. They were really nice and absolutely gorgeous in real life! The both of them -- GORGEOUS beyond belief!! Nick was taller than what I expected. Actually, they were both taller. They let me take pictures of them and they took pictures of me with them. It was a great time. End Scene.
Scene 3 -- I'm on the train from Montreal to home but I can't find a seat. So, I'm walking around with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder looking for a place to crash. I come across this little room with about a half dozen people lying around on a big bed and two little cots. I go in and ask this big burly man if I can sit on the bed with him. He says sure and I make myself comfortable. I ask if this is what a room is like when you book one on the train and he shrugs so I think it must be. It's bigger than what I would have expected and seems to get bigger by the minute. Everybody is saying where they've been and where they're going, telling their stories. So, I tell them about the great weekend I had in Montreal meeting Jessica Simpson but they don't believe me. I have the pictures to prove it, I say and rummage through my bag looking for them. But I can't find them. This goes on a really long time, me looking for the pictures, arguing with the big burly guy. At first I'm kind of pissed off because I think he's making fun of me, calling me a liar. But then I realise he isn't serious and he's just teasing me. So, I get into it then and we're teasing each other, having a good time. If you've ever taken the train from Montreal you know it's one helluva long night. So, this went on awhile, other people fell asleep, the lights dimmed, and soon I was making out with the big burly guy. End Scene
Scene 4 -- It's morning on the train, bright and sunshiny, I'm almost home. Big burly guy has gone to the washroom and I'm lying on the bed feeling pretty happy when another girl on the bed (it's a BIG bed) asks me if I'm a lesbian. She has blonde hair in braids, freckles and braces. She looks REALLY familiar but I can't place her. I say no, I'm not a lesbian, which I think should have been obvious from the make out session with big burly guy. This bratty girl is like Nelly Olsen from Little House on the Prairie, early 20's, just dying to make fun and torture. So, she shrugs and says I could've fooled her with the way I've been going on. I don't know what she's talking about, she's implying I've been having lesbian relations on the train. Turns out she's from my hometown, she won't tell me who she is though, she just keeps laughing and saying, "What? You don't recognise me?" And threatening to tell everyone about my slutty escapades on the train. I tell her I don't know who she is and she can tell people whatever, I don't care what they think, but I'm getting angry and a little freaked out because I really don't understand what's going on and everything from the night before is getting a little fuzzy so I really don't even know what I've done anymore. Just then big burly guy comes back except he isn't big burly guy anymore, he is a she, and she is the butch-type love-em-and-leave-em hairdresser girl from the show The 'L' Word. This is who I was apparently making out with the night before. I'm freaked out!! The blonde girl is laughing, pointing her finger at me, saying she's going to tell everyone. The 'L' Word chick is telling me to have a good life, she's got to get off, it's been fun, yada, yada, yada. I'm feeling woozy. End Scene.
Scene 5 -- I'm back home and that bird has been hanging around outside the house all weekend, my dad says. He wants me to take care of it because the singing is driving him nuts. I go out on the front lawn to look for the bird and the lawn is covered with birds! I mean crawling with the things, all shapes, all sizes, all colours, crows, robins, blue jays, moosebirds, and more. The lawn is dead, dry yellow, they've picked all the good out of the grass. I can't find the bird amongst them and I worry that the wild birds have done something horrible to him. It's an absolutely beautiful day outside, sunshine, blue skies, a few white fluffy clouds. Just then Stacy shows up and wants to see my Jessica Simpson pictures from the weekend. So, we go inside to find them and I start telling her I had a weird time on the train, met a great guy/girl, lol, not sure who I met, but it was interesting. I send Lee outside to look for the bird while I talk to Stacy and look for the pictures. We're in the bright kitchen with the sun streaming through the windows and all of a sudden the world goes dark. It's like night has come on really quick. I turn on the light over the stove so we can see each other and run to the door. I open it and this really thick black smokish grey dust swirls into the room choking us. This is why it's like night outside in the middle of the day. I scream out the door for Lee to come back, he yells back that he hasn't found the bird yet. I'm flipping out, choking on the smoke, and Lee won't come back inside because it upsets him to interrupt a task. I beg him. But he won't come inside. The house is filling with the dust and breathing is getting more difficult. Stacy and I have to use all our strength together in order to push the door closed again. End Dream.
An odd sort of dream to have I think. I woke up feeling sad. There are some obvious triggers for some of the stuff that happened -- I watched Nick Lachey on Charmed the other night and I like his and Jessica's show. Mom and I had a conversation about Lesbianism last night and at one point I remarked that life might be a lot more interesting and even easy if I could learn to like men less and women more. Mom and I were remembering the last time Mt. St. Helen's erupted and how we got a lot of the ash here. Lee is taking a drivers' course to get his license, which scares the bejesus out of all of us. All contributing factors to this dream I think. What an exhausting sleep!
Mood: Tired
Drinking: tea with milk and eating butterscotch pie!
Listening To: Jimmy Eat World, Last Christmas
Hair: Chestnut brown (yeah, shocking, really dark today)
Scene 1 -- I dreamed I won a contest to go to Montreal and meet Jessica Simpson at a big weekend benefit concert. But before I left there were problems at home. This bird flew into the house. It was a big bird, the kind you would buy in a pet store, not a parrot or any breed I recognised, but we knew it was someone's pet. It was pretty tame and I could hold it and pet it and it didn't bite me or anything. I was short on time, having to leave for Montreal to meet Jessica Simpson, and Mom was away so I needed Dad and/or Lee to take the bird around the neighbourhood and see if anyone owned him. But they wouldn't do it. Dad made me put the bird back outside. I was really angry that they wouldn't help me and I had to leave the bird. End scene.
Scene 2 -- I'm in Montreal at a swanky hotel/casino (much like Vegas, not much like Montreal). Celebrities are everywhere!! They're all staying in this hotel too where the benefit concert is taking place onstage in the showroom 24 hours/day all weekend long. J-Lo, Marc Antony, Justin Timberlake, Christina Aguilara, P. Diddy, Gwen Stefani, Nickelback, Celine Dion, even Shania Twain (this just shows how little control I have over the celebrity guest stars in my dreams). It was a crazy mix of people, all of which I just saw from a distance across the lobby or in the restaurant, never performing. I never actually went to the concert. The time came to meet Jessica Simpson in the restaurant. Nick Lachey was with her of course. I went and sat down with them, we ate dinner, we talked. She thought the concert was pretty cool. I realised this was being taped and I might end up on their Newlywed show. They were really nice and absolutely gorgeous in real life! The both of them -- GORGEOUS beyond belief!! Nick was taller than what I expected. Actually, they were both taller. They let me take pictures of them and they took pictures of me with them. It was a great time. End Scene.
Scene 3 -- I'm on the train from Montreal to home but I can't find a seat. So, I'm walking around with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder looking for a place to crash. I come across this little room with about a half dozen people lying around on a big bed and two little cots. I go in and ask this big burly man if I can sit on the bed with him. He says sure and I make myself comfortable. I ask if this is what a room is like when you book one on the train and he shrugs so I think it must be. It's bigger than what I would have expected and seems to get bigger by the minute. Everybody is saying where they've been and where they're going, telling their stories. So, I tell them about the great weekend I had in Montreal meeting Jessica Simpson but they don't believe me. I have the pictures to prove it, I say and rummage through my bag looking for them. But I can't find them. This goes on a really long time, me looking for the pictures, arguing with the big burly guy. At first I'm kind of pissed off because I think he's making fun of me, calling me a liar. But then I realise he isn't serious and he's just teasing me. So, I get into it then and we're teasing each other, having a good time. If you've ever taken the train from Montreal you know it's one helluva long night. So, this went on awhile, other people fell asleep, the lights dimmed, and soon I was making out with the big burly guy. End Scene
Scene 4 -- It's morning on the train, bright and sunshiny, I'm almost home. Big burly guy has gone to the washroom and I'm lying on the bed feeling pretty happy when another girl on the bed (it's a BIG bed) asks me if I'm a lesbian. She has blonde hair in braids, freckles and braces. She looks REALLY familiar but I can't place her. I say no, I'm not a lesbian, which I think should have been obvious from the make out session with big burly guy. This bratty girl is like Nelly Olsen from Little House on the Prairie, early 20's, just dying to make fun and torture. So, she shrugs and says I could've fooled her with the way I've been going on. I don't know what she's talking about, she's implying I've been having lesbian relations on the train. Turns out she's from my hometown, she won't tell me who she is though, she just keeps laughing and saying, "What? You don't recognise me?" And threatening to tell everyone about my slutty escapades on the train. I tell her I don't know who she is and she can tell people whatever, I don't care what they think, but I'm getting angry and a little freaked out because I really don't understand what's going on and everything from the night before is getting a little fuzzy so I really don't even know what I've done anymore. Just then big burly guy comes back except he isn't big burly guy anymore, he is a she, and she is the butch-type love-em-and-leave-em hairdresser girl from the show The 'L' Word. This is who I was apparently making out with the night before. I'm freaked out!! The blonde girl is laughing, pointing her finger at me, saying she's going to tell everyone. The 'L' Word chick is telling me to have a good life, she's got to get off, it's been fun, yada, yada, yada. I'm feeling woozy. End Scene.
Scene 5 -- I'm back home and that bird has been hanging around outside the house all weekend, my dad says. He wants me to take care of it because the singing is driving him nuts. I go out on the front lawn to look for the bird and the lawn is covered with birds! I mean crawling with the things, all shapes, all sizes, all colours, crows, robins, blue jays, moosebirds, and more. The lawn is dead, dry yellow, they've picked all the good out of the grass. I can't find the bird amongst them and I worry that the wild birds have done something horrible to him. It's an absolutely beautiful day outside, sunshine, blue skies, a few white fluffy clouds. Just then Stacy shows up and wants to see my Jessica Simpson pictures from the weekend. So, we go inside to find them and I start telling her I had a weird time on the train, met a great guy/girl, lol, not sure who I met, but it was interesting. I send Lee outside to look for the bird while I talk to Stacy and look for the pictures. We're in the bright kitchen with the sun streaming through the windows and all of a sudden the world goes dark. It's like night has come on really quick. I turn on the light over the stove so we can see each other and run to the door. I open it and this really thick black smokish grey dust swirls into the room choking us. This is why it's like night outside in the middle of the day. I scream out the door for Lee to come back, he yells back that he hasn't found the bird yet. I'm flipping out, choking on the smoke, and Lee won't come back inside because it upsets him to interrupt a task. I beg him. But he won't come inside. The house is filling with the dust and breathing is getting more difficult. Stacy and I have to use all our strength together in order to push the door closed again. End Dream.
An odd sort of dream to have I think. I woke up feeling sad. There are some obvious triggers for some of the stuff that happened -- I watched Nick Lachey on Charmed the other night and I like his and Jessica's show. Mom and I had a conversation about Lesbianism last night and at one point I remarked that life might be a lot more interesting and even easy if I could learn to like men less and women more. Mom and I were remembering the last time Mt. St. Helen's erupted and how we got a lot of the ash here. Lee is taking a drivers' course to get his license, which scares the bejesus out of all of us. All contributing factors to this dream I think. What an exhausting sleep!
Mood: Tired
Drinking: tea with milk and eating butterscotch pie!
Listening To: Jimmy Eat World, Last Christmas
Hair: Chestnut brown (yeah, shocking, really dark today)
Ambitiously Challenging My Creativity
I had an idea for a new column in Bread 'n Molasses that I'm going to start writing this week or next. It's been floating around for several months. I was really excited by it, but then I got some feedback and almost decided not to do it . . . It's an ambitious project . . . it's REALLY ambitious.
I keep searching for ways to make me feel more excited about my work. I don't enjoy doing Bread 'n Molasses very much. It's not "real" journalism . . . and it's certainly not "real" art . . . It's the Harlequin Romance/Breakfast Television/Star Magazine version of a webzine. Now, this isn't necessarily a bad thing, there's a big audience that goes in for that stuff and we do a really good job of pleasing that audience . . . but it's not exactly the sort of thing I had in mind for the rest of my life. Anyway, I keep searching for little ways to get me excited about working on Bread 'n Molasses. So, I came up with an idea for a column that I think will appeal to our readership and satisfy some of my creative urges. A few years ago I started writing a play called Nellie's Place about all these goings on in a General Store in a small town. Kind of poking fun at small towns . . . in a Trailer Park Boys type of way (complete with a Bubbles type character, toned down for a G audience with more innuendo.) Anyway, a few scenes in I realised I had never written a play in my life and had absolutely no idea what the hell I was doing so I put it aside . . . Until now.
Nellie's Place has become Molly's General Store, the new column for Bread 'n Molasses. It's a serial work of fiction written in journal format. I've set up a blog for Molly and every week or so she'll post a new entry (maybe more often depending on how creative I get). For readers it will be like reading her diary. Molly runs the General Store in a small town. So, her diary will be about the goings on in the store . . . and everyone knows the General Store is the place where EVERYTHING goes down. She'll talk about the old guys who hang out there everyday, speculate about what Mr. Jones' son got in the mail and who that nicely dressed stranger was -- there will be a story unfolding in her entries that readers can follow from week to week, each entry will be like a chapter in a novel. And it's still going to be a little bit funny I think . . . well, some of the plot ideas I've got are kind of "off the wall" but not unrealistic in a small town, lol. The second purpose of her entries will be to impart bits of wisdom she gleans at the store every day -- general sorts of household tips like rubbing vaseline on your hands to get rid of the smell of gas, soaking ink stained coloured clothing in milk before washing to get rid of the stain, cutting through aluminum foil to sharpen your scissors, and so on. These things will be woven into the story, not just listed at the end of every entry or anything. Like she'll need to sharpen her scissors and someone will tell her what to do and then she'll write about it in her journal. There'll just be a couple per entry. I hope to keep the posts relatively brief.
So, it's a work of fiction, a story, with real household tips that people can try. And I'm going to write it anonymously (well, as Molly I guess). I've already set up the Molly blog and I'll let you know when she starts publishing. I wondered though if you had any thoughts about the idea. I was really excited about doing it and then when I mentioned it to someone they didn't seem to get it (or didn't think it was a good idea) and I almost quit before I started. . . but maybe if everyone thinks that's a silly idea, I SHOULD quit before I get started :-) So, a shout out on it either way wouldn't go astray.
Mood: Chipper
Drinking: Diet Pepsi
Listening To: Brahms
Hair: Squeaky clean and loosely knotted
I keep searching for ways to make me feel more excited about my work. I don't enjoy doing Bread 'n Molasses very much. It's not "real" journalism . . . and it's certainly not "real" art . . . It's the Harlequin Romance/Breakfast Television/Star Magazine version of a webzine. Now, this isn't necessarily a bad thing, there's a big audience that goes in for that stuff and we do a really good job of pleasing that audience . . . but it's not exactly the sort of thing I had in mind for the rest of my life. Anyway, I keep searching for little ways to get me excited about working on Bread 'n Molasses. So, I came up with an idea for a column that I think will appeal to our readership and satisfy some of my creative urges. A few years ago I started writing a play called Nellie's Place about all these goings on in a General Store in a small town. Kind of poking fun at small towns . . . in a Trailer Park Boys type of way (complete with a Bubbles type character, toned down for a G audience with more innuendo.) Anyway, a few scenes in I realised I had never written a play in my life and had absolutely no idea what the hell I was doing so I put it aside . . . Until now.
Nellie's Place has become Molly's General Store, the new column for Bread 'n Molasses. It's a serial work of fiction written in journal format. I've set up a blog for Molly and every week or so she'll post a new entry (maybe more often depending on how creative I get). For readers it will be like reading her diary. Molly runs the General Store in a small town. So, her diary will be about the goings on in the store . . . and everyone knows the General Store is the place where EVERYTHING goes down. She'll talk about the old guys who hang out there everyday, speculate about what Mr. Jones' son got in the mail and who that nicely dressed stranger was -- there will be a story unfolding in her entries that readers can follow from week to week, each entry will be like a chapter in a novel. And it's still going to be a little bit funny I think . . . well, some of the plot ideas I've got are kind of "off the wall" but not unrealistic in a small town, lol. The second purpose of her entries will be to impart bits of wisdom she gleans at the store every day -- general sorts of household tips like rubbing vaseline on your hands to get rid of the smell of gas, soaking ink stained coloured clothing in milk before washing to get rid of the stain, cutting through aluminum foil to sharpen your scissors, and so on. These things will be woven into the story, not just listed at the end of every entry or anything. Like she'll need to sharpen her scissors and someone will tell her what to do and then she'll write about it in her journal. There'll just be a couple per entry. I hope to keep the posts relatively brief.
So, it's a work of fiction, a story, with real household tips that people can try. And I'm going to write it anonymously (well, as Molly I guess). I've already set up the Molly blog and I'll let you know when she starts publishing. I wondered though if you had any thoughts about the idea. I was really excited about doing it and then when I mentioned it to someone they didn't seem to get it (or didn't think it was a good idea) and I almost quit before I started. . . but maybe if everyone thinks that's a silly idea, I SHOULD quit before I get started :-) So, a shout out on it either way wouldn't go astray.
Mood: Chipper
Drinking: Diet Pepsi
Listening To: Brahms
Hair: Squeaky clean and loosely knotted
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Old Habits Die Hard
I've fallen into my old ways . . . ignoring my blog. Sorry about that. Whenever I take a weekend off i.e. physically leave my home and travel to other cities to sleep in cozy hotel rooms, it seems to take a week or two to get back up to speed. I don't know why.
Anyway, I never finished telling you about the great Freddy escape weekend, and since absolutely nothing happened this weekend except this I've got nothing better to talk about anyway.
Last Friday morning I got up early and went shopping at Regent Mall. Pretty much everyone else was going to Fred Cogswell's burial and memorial service. But I never knew Fred, so I made other plans. I went to Wal-Mart and picked up $50 worth of new underwear -- panties, socks, thongs, etc. I cannot stress how much in need of new underwear I was . . . there is stuff hanging out in my drawers that I bought in Toronto, lol. It used to be that I would get tons of that stuff for Christmas and birthdays, so I never had to buy anything hardly. Sadly, now it's all on me and I'm not very good at keeping on top of the situation. Especially when me and Nick are really the only ones who ever see my undies. Nick likes to chew my socks and steal my panties . . . it's an attention seeking thing. Anyway, I went shopping and then met Dorinda in the food court where we had coffee and conversation. Then we headed over to the liquor store and stocked up on wine for the weekend and then we drove around the campus trying to locate buildings we needed to be at later.
I was back in my room by 11:30 a.m. I showered, watched some t.v. and waited for Stacy to show up so I could get some food. I was still starving from the night before. She got in around 1:30 and we went to Keystone Kelly's because we had a coupon for 15% off. Later Claude told us the Keystone's in Fredericton is the absolute worse restaurant in town . . . but we didn't seem to notice, had a good lunch. Then Stacy had to go help a lady with her website and I went shopping at Winners bought some Christmas presents for the kids. Then we went downtown to Claude's apartment. It might be cool to live right downtown on the main drag. We hung out there for a few minutes and then went to Mexicala Rosa's for drinks. I had a couple of glasses of wine and Stacy had a HUGE frozen margarita. We left Claude and headed to the evening's literary events.
The evening started with a screening of the film Alden Nowlan: The Mysterious Naked Man. I really enjoyed the movie. It was funny, sad, real. I loved the footage of Alden himself. I wished I had known him like so many of the Fredericton literary crowd did. Brian Guns the director/ producer was there and spoke a little about the film. I had the opportunity to have breakfast with him the next morning because we stayed in the same hotel. That was pretty cool. To find out even more about the process, where the film is going, what's next and so on. After the film there were readings. Shirley Bear gave a spiritually touching reading in English and Maliseet. Her native language is so powerful, so beautiful. She could have read all evening and not said a word in English and I would have loved it. Her poems were very spiritual, about nature and ancient myths from her culture. She was one of my favourites from the entire weekend. Liliane Welch's poetry is more deliberate somehow. In her reading she enunciated every syllabel, drawing out every vowel, holding the consonants. I honestly couldn't tell you what her poems were about, because the reading was such an art itself. Stacy really disliked her reading, got on her nerves. But I found it very interesting, educational, the way the words sounded. I've never been as consciously aware of the sound of words as I was in that moment. I wanted to leave the auditorium, go home and read aloud everything I've ever written to see what it sounded like. Alan Cumyn read a chapter from his children's novel and made everyone in the audience laugh until they nearly peed their pants. In the chapter his main character, a little boy named Owen, falls in love with a girl in his class at Valentine's Day and a lot of really funny stuff happens as the kids exchange Valentine's in their decorated Kleenex boxes at their desks. The reading was great! Hilarious! And God did it ever take me back! lol He said when he reads that part to kids who are the age of the kids in the story you can hear a pin drop in the classroom . . . they don't think it's very funny, this Valentine and love stuff is pretty serious business for them. John Smith is the poet laureate for PEI. When he read his poetry I felt like I was in the presence of a great Shakespearan actor. He didn't need the microphone, his voice was so powerful and full. I met him at breakfast the next morning also and purchased one of his books which he signed for me. Kathleen Forsythe read last. She is Fred Cogswell's daughter and before he died they were working on a book together, she was interviewing him about the process of writing poetry, getting into his head as he wrote. She read some excerpts from the manuscript which will be published soon. It sounds like a fascinating book, something I'll definitely want to read. However, she kind of highjacked the evening . . . reading on and on for a very long time. It was kind of sad really, to see her working out her grief so publically like that. Some people were really pissed at her for doing that, but I didn't mind really. Most of what she talked about was interesting and she just buried her father that morning so I figured she deserved a little leeway.
After the readings, Stacy and I went to Dairy Queen for snacks and then back to our room to watch a dvd and pig out. We watched this really funny movie I had never really heard tell of before with Billy Bob Thornton, Patrick Swayze and Charlize Theron. It was really funny and I have no idea what it was called. Got to sleep quite late and then I had to get up pretty early Saturday morning because I was registered for the workshop with Alan Cumyn at 10 a.m. The workshop was at the Ice House (appropriately named because it was absolutely freezing). It's kind of funny actually. I've always heard about the Ice House and all the great work that has been created there and come to find out it's this tiny little one-room stone building like a shed (I had to duck to go in the door)with a big old desk that must certainly be a lot older than I am and is in no danger of being stolen because they must have built the building around it. There were about 10 of us in the group. It was kind of weird as workshops go . . . because we didn't actually write much. But it was a great workshop, a life-changing workshop for me actually. I would say Alan Cumyn has completely changed the course of my writing. He gave us a topic and we did a timed writing of 10 minutes. We didn't share what we'd written, it didn't matter much. I'm not sure even what his point of getting us to write was all about, but later on when he spoke about staying connected to your writing and how a half-hour to an hour of writing every day is the key to producing a novel or collection of short stories, I looked and saw how much I had written in that 10 minutes and suddenly it all clicked for me. I think it was just his really calm matter of fact manner, but in that moment I realised I am disconnected from my novel and all I need is to get tuned back in, spend a half-hour or an hour with it every day and the book will get done. I realised that when I'm connected the story is always working in the background and if I'm touching base with it for a few minutes every day, then it's always being written in my head. This was quite the realisation. Of course, I've been home a week and haven't acted on it, lol. But I'm going to. I can feel it.
For lunch we went to the James Joyce pub in the Lord Beaverbrook Hotel. (A bit pricey but okay if you like Irish stew and fish chowder, that sort of stuff). My friend Elizabeth read one of her short stories. It was one I had never read or heard before. She seemed a little nervous but totally pulled it off and did a great job. Eventually we all have to go there . . . the public reading in order to get your name out there . . . I love public speaking but something about reading my fiction knocks the wind out of me. It's really kind of weird. Elizabeth jokes that she is the exhibitionist in our group. She done good! And I liked the story a lot. Marilyn Lerch from Sackville read some of her poems and I had the opportunity to buy her book later and have her sign it. She's one of my favourites and has been for awhile. She's one of those feisty old broads, feminist, originally from Chicago. She doesn't pull any punches and I like that. She's funny as old hell too. She's got this great poem called The Great Toronto Garbage Strike of 2002 about the garbage strike when the Pope visited. It's fantastic! And when she reads it -- LOL! I loved it! When she mutters in that tough broad gravelly voice of hers, "Give 'em a raise for chrissake!" I fall to pieces. Kelly Cooper read fiction and really sucked me into her story. I can't remember whether she has a book or not, but if she does it will be one I'll pick up if I see it. Greg Cook read some of his poetry and I was excited to meet the man who wrote Alden Nowlan One Heart, One Way. Though I didn't get the chance to introduce myself. A surprising thing happened when Allan Cooper read. He's a poet from Alma and I have one of his books already. I don't know if it was the exhaustion, the starvation, the wine, being overwhelmed by being in a room filled with so many published authors and poets, or what was going on . . . but as he read a poem about the tides in Fundy I felt a lump form in my throat and my vision clouded. I looked away, I tried to think about other things, but it was no good. I sat there and cried.
That's the funny thing about these readings. Different people are moved by different things. I looked over at one point during Marilyn Lerch's reading and Dorinda was crying, wiping her eyes, sniffling. Stacy was moved to tears during Shirley Bear's reading the evening before. It's an interesting phenomena.
After lunch I ended up going to the panel discussion on Travis Lane's poetry. It was actually quite interesting because I didn't know much about her poetry before coming to the festival. Jeanette Lynes, Robert Gibbs, Lynn Davies, and Hannah Lane each gave speeches about her work and then the floor was opened to questions. I learned a lot and it was actually quite entertaining. Next year I won't be so quick to strike the panel discussions from my agenda. After that a bunch of us went for supper at a Greek restaurant where I had the absolute worse glass of red wine -- it must have been a pinot noir, because I'm not very fond of those. I need to remember to request the merlot, even though it usually costs more, it's well worth an extra dollar or so when faced with a crappy glass of wine.
After supper Stacy and I went shopping a bit at Wal-Mart and I bought a bunch of dvds. Just got back and it was time to go to the readings. Travis Lane, Jeanette Lynes, Geoffrey Cook, Jean Dohaney, and Robert Moore were on the schedule. Jeanette had been partying with Judy and Dorinda so she prefaced her reading by saying she had been adopted by the women of Miramichi and thanking the WFNB for inviting her because she was having such a great time. She was a lot of fun to hang out with. Travis Lane is such a gracious woman. She reminds me of my Grandmother on my father's side . . . like Grammie Underhill only with balls! LOL Not literally. I mean if Grammie Underhill were to say whatever was on her mind, let loose, not hold back at all for the sake of being polite or proper. Yeah, this was Travis Lane. I loved her! There are some people you meet and they're just instantly likeable, she's one of those. Geoffrey Cook is Greg Cook's son. Greg actually emceed the evening and was very proud to be introducing his son. Geoffrey just launched his first book of poetry the night before and he was so nervous to be at the Alden Nowlan festival reading with friends in the audience who drove all the way from Montreal just to hear him. He stumbled a couple of times and had to start over but I kind of liked that, liked that he was visibly trembling as he held the book, popping his p's in the microphone and fumbling over his words. It made him more human, more like me. I could relate. And his poems weren't bad either.
After the readings we went back to the hotel to get Stacy because we were supposed to be going out with Claude to the Taproom. But when we got there Stacy was sick in bed, so we just had a glass of wine and took a cab to the university bar in Alden Nowlan's house on campus where everyone from the reading was going to hang out. What a surreally awesome time! To be sitting in the living room at Windsor Castle surrounded by all these really great writers talking about books and writing and university politics and art and workshops and grants -- I loved it! I've read so much about Alden Nowlan, so much about his parties at Windsor Castle, and I know it's tacky beyond words that the grad students have turned his living room into a bar . . . but still, it's kind of like I've had the Alden Nowlan experience I've always read about. Weird.
Throughout the weekend and at Windsor Castle, I got to talk a lot to my friend that I met at the AGM in April, Joe Blades from Broken Jaw Press. He's one of my favourite people, always doing something interesting, and he's very peaceful, has kind of a Zen-like demeanour that rubs off and makes you feel all peaceful too. Plus, he's got this really dry wit that I appreciate. I could listen to him talk for hours -- Hey, I think I have listened to him talk for hours, lol. He has a new book out and I bought it, got him to sign it. His poetry is really interesting, there are a lot of layers to peel away. I like that. The Canadian Embassy has invited him to big Book Fair overseas -- Helsinki? No, Prague? I forget where exactly. Anyway, he's a keynote speaker or something, so that's a pretty big deal. He seemed really excited about it and I'm hoping he'll pop off a note to me about it so I can include it in the next WFNB newsletter.
I was severely hung over on the Sunday but that didn't stop Stacy and I from having a full day in Fredericton. We checked out and headed downtown to Cora's for breakfast. There was some sort of a marathon or something going on and the streets were blocked off so we had to park way to hell and back and walk, then the line-up was practically out on the street. By the time we got food I was near dead, but the food was worth it. YUMMY!!! We both got the waffles with carmel apples and English cream. Wow! It was scrum. No doubt about it, Cora's is the place to go for breakfast. After breakfast we hit the mall and hit it hard. I spent it all! Mostly Christmas shopping though, so that was good. Good to get it out of the way, rather than wait until the week before like I always do. Maybe now that the kids presents aren't going to suck my pay cheque dry in December, I'll even be able to buy some other people something, like Mom and Dad. They'd be thrilled! All in all, I didn't too badly in the spending department for the weekend. Didn't get too many books or dvds. That's always a concern, that I'll spend hundreds of dollars on books and lately dvds.
This weekend I was supposed to go to a staff party at the Pond's Resort in Ludlow but I threw out my back late last week and had to pass. So, now I start saving for my next excursion -- Magie Dominic's reading, workshop and installation of the Gown of Stillness in Moncton in December. I think Jen and Jason are going to go to that with me. It'll be nice to see Ed and Elaine from the Attic Owl again, they're the organisers behind that event. Great for last minute Christmas shopping too.
Well, that's it, now you're up to date.
Mood: having a big old fat day
Drinking: Nothing, drier than a wooden god
Listening To: Andrea Bocelli, La Paterno Mano
Hair: tied up and stringy
Anyway, I never finished telling you about the great Freddy escape weekend, and since absolutely nothing happened this weekend except this I've got nothing better to talk about anyway.
Last Friday morning I got up early and went shopping at Regent Mall. Pretty much everyone else was going to Fred Cogswell's burial and memorial service. But I never knew Fred, so I made other plans. I went to Wal-Mart and picked up $50 worth of new underwear -- panties, socks, thongs, etc. I cannot stress how much in need of new underwear I was . . . there is stuff hanging out in my drawers that I bought in Toronto, lol. It used to be that I would get tons of that stuff for Christmas and birthdays, so I never had to buy anything hardly. Sadly, now it's all on me and I'm not very good at keeping on top of the situation. Especially when me and Nick are really the only ones who ever see my undies. Nick likes to chew my socks and steal my panties . . . it's an attention seeking thing. Anyway, I went shopping and then met Dorinda in the food court where we had coffee and conversation. Then we headed over to the liquor store and stocked up on wine for the weekend and then we drove around the campus trying to locate buildings we needed to be at later.
I was back in my room by 11:30 a.m. I showered, watched some t.v. and waited for Stacy to show up so I could get some food. I was still starving from the night before. She got in around 1:30 and we went to Keystone Kelly's because we had a coupon for 15% off. Later Claude told us the Keystone's in Fredericton is the absolute worse restaurant in town . . . but we didn't seem to notice, had a good lunch. Then Stacy had to go help a lady with her website and I went shopping at Winners bought some Christmas presents for the kids. Then we went downtown to Claude's apartment. It might be cool to live right downtown on the main drag. We hung out there for a few minutes and then went to Mexicala Rosa's for drinks. I had a couple of glasses of wine and Stacy had a HUGE frozen margarita. We left Claude and headed to the evening's literary events.
The evening started with a screening of the film Alden Nowlan: The Mysterious Naked Man. I really enjoyed the movie. It was funny, sad, real. I loved the footage of Alden himself. I wished I had known him like so many of the Fredericton literary crowd did. Brian Guns the director/ producer was there and spoke a little about the film. I had the opportunity to have breakfast with him the next morning because we stayed in the same hotel. That was pretty cool. To find out even more about the process, where the film is going, what's next and so on. After the film there were readings. Shirley Bear gave a spiritually touching reading in English and Maliseet. Her native language is so powerful, so beautiful. She could have read all evening and not said a word in English and I would have loved it. Her poems were very spiritual, about nature and ancient myths from her culture. She was one of my favourites from the entire weekend. Liliane Welch's poetry is more deliberate somehow. In her reading she enunciated every syllabel, drawing out every vowel, holding the consonants. I honestly couldn't tell you what her poems were about, because the reading was such an art itself. Stacy really disliked her reading, got on her nerves. But I found it very interesting, educational, the way the words sounded. I've never been as consciously aware of the sound of words as I was in that moment. I wanted to leave the auditorium, go home and read aloud everything I've ever written to see what it sounded like. Alan Cumyn read a chapter from his children's novel and made everyone in the audience laugh until they nearly peed their pants. In the chapter his main character, a little boy named Owen, falls in love with a girl in his class at Valentine's Day and a lot of really funny stuff happens as the kids exchange Valentine's in their decorated Kleenex boxes at their desks. The reading was great! Hilarious! And God did it ever take me back! lol He said when he reads that part to kids who are the age of the kids in the story you can hear a pin drop in the classroom . . . they don't think it's very funny, this Valentine and love stuff is pretty serious business for them. John Smith is the poet laureate for PEI. When he read his poetry I felt like I was in the presence of a great Shakespearan actor. He didn't need the microphone, his voice was so powerful and full. I met him at breakfast the next morning also and purchased one of his books which he signed for me. Kathleen Forsythe read last. She is Fred Cogswell's daughter and before he died they were working on a book together, she was interviewing him about the process of writing poetry, getting into his head as he wrote. She read some excerpts from the manuscript which will be published soon. It sounds like a fascinating book, something I'll definitely want to read. However, she kind of highjacked the evening . . . reading on and on for a very long time. It was kind of sad really, to see her working out her grief so publically like that. Some people were really pissed at her for doing that, but I didn't mind really. Most of what she talked about was interesting and she just buried her father that morning so I figured she deserved a little leeway.
After the readings, Stacy and I went to Dairy Queen for snacks and then back to our room to watch a dvd and pig out. We watched this really funny movie I had never really heard tell of before with Billy Bob Thornton, Patrick Swayze and Charlize Theron. It was really funny and I have no idea what it was called. Got to sleep quite late and then I had to get up pretty early Saturday morning because I was registered for the workshop with Alan Cumyn at 10 a.m. The workshop was at the Ice House (appropriately named because it was absolutely freezing). It's kind of funny actually. I've always heard about the Ice House and all the great work that has been created there and come to find out it's this tiny little one-room stone building like a shed (I had to duck to go in the door)with a big old desk that must certainly be a lot older than I am and is in no danger of being stolen because they must have built the building around it. There were about 10 of us in the group. It was kind of weird as workshops go . . . because we didn't actually write much. But it was a great workshop, a life-changing workshop for me actually. I would say Alan Cumyn has completely changed the course of my writing. He gave us a topic and we did a timed writing of 10 minutes. We didn't share what we'd written, it didn't matter much. I'm not sure even what his point of getting us to write was all about, but later on when he spoke about staying connected to your writing and how a half-hour to an hour of writing every day is the key to producing a novel or collection of short stories, I looked and saw how much I had written in that 10 minutes and suddenly it all clicked for me. I think it was just his really calm matter of fact manner, but in that moment I realised I am disconnected from my novel and all I need is to get tuned back in, spend a half-hour or an hour with it every day and the book will get done. I realised that when I'm connected the story is always working in the background and if I'm touching base with it for a few minutes every day, then it's always being written in my head. This was quite the realisation. Of course, I've been home a week and haven't acted on it, lol. But I'm going to. I can feel it.
For lunch we went to the James Joyce pub in the Lord Beaverbrook Hotel. (A bit pricey but okay if you like Irish stew and fish chowder, that sort of stuff). My friend Elizabeth read one of her short stories. It was one I had never read or heard before. She seemed a little nervous but totally pulled it off and did a great job. Eventually we all have to go there . . . the public reading in order to get your name out there . . . I love public speaking but something about reading my fiction knocks the wind out of me. It's really kind of weird. Elizabeth jokes that she is the exhibitionist in our group. She done good! And I liked the story a lot. Marilyn Lerch from Sackville read some of her poems and I had the opportunity to buy her book later and have her sign it. She's one of my favourites and has been for awhile. She's one of those feisty old broads, feminist, originally from Chicago. She doesn't pull any punches and I like that. She's funny as old hell too. She's got this great poem called The Great Toronto Garbage Strike of 2002 about the garbage strike when the Pope visited. It's fantastic! And when she reads it -- LOL! I loved it! When she mutters in that tough broad gravelly voice of hers, "Give 'em a raise for chrissake!" I fall to pieces. Kelly Cooper read fiction and really sucked me into her story. I can't remember whether she has a book or not, but if she does it will be one I'll pick up if I see it. Greg Cook read some of his poetry and I was excited to meet the man who wrote Alden Nowlan One Heart, One Way. Though I didn't get the chance to introduce myself. A surprising thing happened when Allan Cooper read. He's a poet from Alma and I have one of his books already. I don't know if it was the exhaustion, the starvation, the wine, being overwhelmed by being in a room filled with so many published authors and poets, or what was going on . . . but as he read a poem about the tides in Fundy I felt a lump form in my throat and my vision clouded. I looked away, I tried to think about other things, but it was no good. I sat there and cried.
That's the funny thing about these readings. Different people are moved by different things. I looked over at one point during Marilyn Lerch's reading and Dorinda was crying, wiping her eyes, sniffling. Stacy was moved to tears during Shirley Bear's reading the evening before. It's an interesting phenomena.
After lunch I ended up going to the panel discussion on Travis Lane's poetry. It was actually quite interesting because I didn't know much about her poetry before coming to the festival. Jeanette Lynes, Robert Gibbs, Lynn Davies, and Hannah Lane each gave speeches about her work and then the floor was opened to questions. I learned a lot and it was actually quite entertaining. Next year I won't be so quick to strike the panel discussions from my agenda. After that a bunch of us went for supper at a Greek restaurant where I had the absolute worse glass of red wine -- it must have been a pinot noir, because I'm not very fond of those. I need to remember to request the merlot, even though it usually costs more, it's well worth an extra dollar or so when faced with a crappy glass of wine.
After supper Stacy and I went shopping a bit at Wal-Mart and I bought a bunch of dvds. Just got back and it was time to go to the readings. Travis Lane, Jeanette Lynes, Geoffrey Cook, Jean Dohaney, and Robert Moore were on the schedule. Jeanette had been partying with Judy and Dorinda so she prefaced her reading by saying she had been adopted by the women of Miramichi and thanking the WFNB for inviting her because she was having such a great time. She was a lot of fun to hang out with. Travis Lane is such a gracious woman. She reminds me of my Grandmother on my father's side . . . like Grammie Underhill only with balls! LOL Not literally. I mean if Grammie Underhill were to say whatever was on her mind, let loose, not hold back at all for the sake of being polite or proper. Yeah, this was Travis Lane. I loved her! There are some people you meet and they're just instantly likeable, she's one of those. Geoffrey Cook is Greg Cook's son. Greg actually emceed the evening and was very proud to be introducing his son. Geoffrey just launched his first book of poetry the night before and he was so nervous to be at the Alden Nowlan festival reading with friends in the audience who drove all the way from Montreal just to hear him. He stumbled a couple of times and had to start over but I kind of liked that, liked that he was visibly trembling as he held the book, popping his p's in the microphone and fumbling over his words. It made him more human, more like me. I could relate. And his poems weren't bad either.
After the readings we went back to the hotel to get Stacy because we were supposed to be going out with Claude to the Taproom. But when we got there Stacy was sick in bed, so we just had a glass of wine and took a cab to the university bar in Alden Nowlan's house on campus where everyone from the reading was going to hang out. What a surreally awesome time! To be sitting in the living room at Windsor Castle surrounded by all these really great writers talking about books and writing and university politics and art and workshops and grants -- I loved it! I've read so much about Alden Nowlan, so much about his parties at Windsor Castle, and I know it's tacky beyond words that the grad students have turned his living room into a bar . . . but still, it's kind of like I've had the Alden Nowlan experience I've always read about. Weird.
Throughout the weekend and at Windsor Castle, I got to talk a lot to my friend that I met at the AGM in April, Joe Blades from Broken Jaw Press. He's one of my favourite people, always doing something interesting, and he's very peaceful, has kind of a Zen-like demeanour that rubs off and makes you feel all peaceful too. Plus, he's got this really dry wit that I appreciate. I could listen to him talk for hours -- Hey, I think I have listened to him talk for hours, lol. He has a new book out and I bought it, got him to sign it. His poetry is really interesting, there are a lot of layers to peel away. I like that. The Canadian Embassy has invited him to big Book Fair overseas -- Helsinki? No, Prague? I forget where exactly. Anyway, he's a keynote speaker or something, so that's a pretty big deal. He seemed really excited about it and I'm hoping he'll pop off a note to me about it so I can include it in the next WFNB newsletter.
I was severely hung over on the Sunday but that didn't stop Stacy and I from having a full day in Fredericton. We checked out and headed downtown to Cora's for breakfast. There was some sort of a marathon or something going on and the streets were blocked off so we had to park way to hell and back and walk, then the line-up was practically out on the street. By the time we got food I was near dead, but the food was worth it. YUMMY!!! We both got the waffles with carmel apples and English cream. Wow! It was scrum. No doubt about it, Cora's is the place to go for breakfast. After breakfast we hit the mall and hit it hard. I spent it all! Mostly Christmas shopping though, so that was good. Good to get it out of the way, rather than wait until the week before like I always do. Maybe now that the kids presents aren't going to suck my pay cheque dry in December, I'll even be able to buy some other people something, like Mom and Dad. They'd be thrilled! All in all, I didn't too badly in the spending department for the weekend. Didn't get too many books or dvds. That's always a concern, that I'll spend hundreds of dollars on books and lately dvds.
This weekend I was supposed to go to a staff party at the Pond's Resort in Ludlow but I threw out my back late last week and had to pass. So, now I start saving for my next excursion -- Magie Dominic's reading, workshop and installation of the Gown of Stillness in Moncton in December. I think Jen and Jason are going to go to that with me. It'll be nice to see Ed and Elaine from the Attic Owl again, they're the organisers behind that event. Great for last minute Christmas shopping too.
Well, that's it, now you're up to date.
Mood: having a big old fat day
Drinking: Nothing, drier than a wooden god
Listening To: Andrea Bocelli, La Paterno Mano
Hair: tied up and stringy
Monday, September 27, 2004
Like A Virgin
I'm back! And what a fantastic weekend I had in Fredericton! The bus ride over was pretty good Thursday afternoon. The driver was a non-smoker, no-nonsense, all business type of dude so he drove a pretty good clip and didn't prolong the few stops along the way. We ended up getting into Freddy about 10 minutes early, but of course traffic was a nightmare going over the bridge so we arrived a few minutes late.
I cabbed up the hill to the Amsterdam Inn where all the writers were supposed to be staying, checked in and raced up to my room to get ready for the opening ceremony. I didn't have much time. I was excited to wear my new black strappy sandals that I've had since Spring but have never had the opportunity to wear. 3 1/2 inch heels! They're nice shoes, the kind where the strap double wraps around your ankle. I put them on and wobbled around my room a little debating whether I should wear them or go with the more sensibly heeled silver grey sandals with the 3/4 inch heels. Thinking the event would be mostly a sit-down show I went tall. Oops! Oh well, I'll know better for next year.
About 6:45 I called a taxi to take me to Old Government House. In the lobby I met up with Shirley Bear, a poet I was looking forward to hearing read later in the weekend, and her sister. Since we were all headed the same place we shared the cab. The building was beautiful of course! Ancient stone covered with Ivy and clinging vines, some stained glass windows, cathedral ceilings, antique furnishings, lavish rugs, lots of portraits, paintings, statues, big vases, huge chandeliers, real china and silverware, velvet cushions, framed photos of visiting dignitaries like Prince Charles -- everything that one would expect to find in the home of the Lieutenant Governor and more. There was plenty of wine, red and white, fruit punch, vegetable trays with dips, fresh fruit, cheese, crackers, and cream cheese, smoked salmon, and other tiny sandwich rolls. It was not exactly the sort of feast a starving woman required, but it did in a pinch.
Joe Ward from Eel Ground got the ceremony underway with his drumming. I was feeling too faint to stand in the circle and hold hands so I went out into the hall and sat down while they did that part. A group called The Raging Grannies performed. They were wonderfully funny and entertaining, dressed up in flouncy hats and shawls, keeping time with a wooden spoon and kazoo. They are political activists and write what I can only think to call protest songs. I had never seen or heard tell of them before but apparently they've been making quite a name for themselves with appearances on shows like Breakfast Television. They were there to tribute M. Travis Lane. Every year the festival honours a poet and this year it was her turn. I think Travis is a Raging Grannie. They shared a story about visiting a dying friend in hospital and singing them off. I liked that. Travis was celebrating her 70th birthday and what a happy energectic woman she seemed. She obviously comes from good blood because her 90-year-old mother was quite happy to have the house to herself for evening while Travis attended. She and the Grannies believe life should be celebrated until the very end with singing and poetry. There will be time enough for grieving after the dead have departed. I would be lying if I said I wasn't fascinated by this woman, who seemed to effortlessly bring every conversation round to her pets. Jeannette Lynes and Liliane Welch also gave lovely tribute speeches to Travis and shared some of her poetry.
A personal highlight of the evening for me was meeting up again with Ed and Elaine Lemond from the Attic Owl bookstore in Moncton. They are lovely people, so down to earth and friendly. Elaine kept getting me confused with Kelly Cooper who was going to read later in the weekend and wishing me luck -- very supportive :-) Just running into them makes me excited to move to Sackville where I'll be closer to these people and get to spend more time with them. Fredericton is a nice city . . . but I find it a little cold. Many Miramichiers live there but they seem to be the ones who think themselves a little bit too good to live on the river, not the proud Miramichiers. It's like they haven't grown past that stage so many of us go through right after high school where we want to be from anywhere but here. Funny, how most of those people go to Fredericton and never come back. But the people who go elsewhere come to realise what they've left behind and either move back or long to with every visit. Everyone in Fredericton seems a little too full of themselves. I don't know, it's kind of an odd thought I suppose and like anything else there are exceptions. I also know some very down to earth great former Miramichiers living in Fredericton. But Moncton does not have that feeling at all. People will talk to you in Moncton and not down their noses until they judge whether you're worthy. There's a different feeling about Moncton.
Anyway, after the tributes and more mingling, we headed back to the hotel and convened to have a glass of wine. Dorinda, Noeline, Elizabeth, Judy and I sat around talking for a little while. I learned that the Miramichi Writers' Guild is thinking about publishing another little chapbook. While I'm sitting there thinking what I would want to contribute if anything, they sprung it upon me that they wanted me to do the editing, layout, design, etc. I was surprised but thought it would be cool. They would even pay me a little, even cooler! About midnight everyone went to their own rooms. I went to the lobby and grabbed snacks from the vending machine and a movie. It was the sequel to The Talented Mr. Ripley with John Malkovich as Tom Ripley. It might have been good, but I was too looped to stay awake.
And that was the first event. I'll write more later and tell you the rest of the story. It gets better, I promise ;-)
Mood: Pleasantly exhausted
Drinking: tea
Listening To: Keep the Faith, Bon Jovi (This Left Feels Right)
Hair: newly dyed!
I cabbed up the hill to the Amsterdam Inn where all the writers were supposed to be staying, checked in and raced up to my room to get ready for the opening ceremony. I didn't have much time. I was excited to wear my new black strappy sandals that I've had since Spring but have never had the opportunity to wear. 3 1/2 inch heels! They're nice shoes, the kind where the strap double wraps around your ankle. I put them on and wobbled around my room a little debating whether I should wear them or go with the more sensibly heeled silver grey sandals with the 3/4 inch heels. Thinking the event would be mostly a sit-down show I went tall. Oops! Oh well, I'll know better for next year.
About 6:45 I called a taxi to take me to Old Government House. In the lobby I met up with Shirley Bear, a poet I was looking forward to hearing read later in the weekend, and her sister. Since we were all headed the same place we shared the cab. The building was beautiful of course! Ancient stone covered with Ivy and clinging vines, some stained glass windows, cathedral ceilings, antique furnishings, lavish rugs, lots of portraits, paintings, statues, big vases, huge chandeliers, real china and silverware, velvet cushions, framed photos of visiting dignitaries like Prince Charles -- everything that one would expect to find in the home of the Lieutenant Governor and more. There was plenty of wine, red and white, fruit punch, vegetable trays with dips, fresh fruit, cheese, crackers, and cream cheese, smoked salmon, and other tiny sandwich rolls. It was not exactly the sort of feast a starving woman required, but it did in a pinch.
Joe Ward from Eel Ground got the ceremony underway with his drumming. I was feeling too faint to stand in the circle and hold hands so I went out into the hall and sat down while they did that part. A group called The Raging Grannies performed. They were wonderfully funny and entertaining, dressed up in flouncy hats and shawls, keeping time with a wooden spoon and kazoo. They are political activists and write what I can only think to call protest songs. I had never seen or heard tell of them before but apparently they've been making quite a name for themselves with appearances on shows like Breakfast Television. They were there to tribute M. Travis Lane. Every year the festival honours a poet and this year it was her turn. I think Travis is a Raging Grannie. They shared a story about visiting a dying friend in hospital and singing them off. I liked that. Travis was celebrating her 70th birthday and what a happy energectic woman she seemed. She obviously comes from good blood because her 90-year-old mother was quite happy to have the house to herself for evening while Travis attended. She and the Grannies believe life should be celebrated until the very end with singing and poetry. There will be time enough for grieving after the dead have departed. I would be lying if I said I wasn't fascinated by this woman, who seemed to effortlessly bring every conversation round to her pets. Jeannette Lynes and Liliane Welch also gave lovely tribute speeches to Travis and shared some of her poetry.
A personal highlight of the evening for me was meeting up again with Ed and Elaine Lemond from the Attic Owl bookstore in Moncton. They are lovely people, so down to earth and friendly. Elaine kept getting me confused with Kelly Cooper who was going to read later in the weekend and wishing me luck -- very supportive :-) Just running into them makes me excited to move to Sackville where I'll be closer to these people and get to spend more time with them. Fredericton is a nice city . . . but I find it a little cold. Many Miramichiers live there but they seem to be the ones who think themselves a little bit too good to live on the river, not the proud Miramichiers. It's like they haven't grown past that stage so many of us go through right after high school where we want to be from anywhere but here. Funny, how most of those people go to Fredericton and never come back. But the people who go elsewhere come to realise what they've left behind and either move back or long to with every visit. Everyone in Fredericton seems a little too full of themselves. I don't know, it's kind of an odd thought I suppose and like anything else there are exceptions. I also know some very down to earth great former Miramichiers living in Fredericton. But Moncton does not have that feeling at all. People will talk to you in Moncton and not down their noses until they judge whether you're worthy. There's a different feeling about Moncton.
Anyway, after the tributes and more mingling, we headed back to the hotel and convened to have a glass of wine. Dorinda, Noeline, Elizabeth, Judy and I sat around talking for a little while. I learned that the Miramichi Writers' Guild is thinking about publishing another little chapbook. While I'm sitting there thinking what I would want to contribute if anything, they sprung it upon me that they wanted me to do the editing, layout, design, etc. I was surprised but thought it would be cool. They would even pay me a little, even cooler! About midnight everyone went to their own rooms. I went to the lobby and grabbed snacks from the vending machine and a movie. It was the sequel to The Talented Mr. Ripley with John Malkovich as Tom Ripley. It might have been good, but I was too looped to stay awake.
And that was the first event. I'll write more later and tell you the rest of the story. It gets better, I promise ;-)
Mood: Pleasantly exhausted
Drinking: tea
Listening To: Keep the Faith, Bon Jovi (This Left Feels Right)
Hair: newly dyed!
Thursday, September 23, 2004
On the road again, just can't wait to get on the road again . . .
Off to Fredericton again tomorrow and I'm really excited about it. Tomorrow night is the opening ceremony for the Alden Nowlan Literary Festival -- EVERYBODY is going to be there. I get to get dressed up. There's going to be lots of great food and wine and talented artists reading great poetry. It's my first one and I'm stoked. There's not much going on Friday until the evening so I think I'm going to go do a little shopping at the Regent Mall which is pretty close to my hotel. I need new running shoes for one thing and also could use some black printer ink. Ink is a hard thing to get in Miramichi, it's pretty scarce. But now that I'm doing the WFNB newsletter I need ink to print it out and send for photocopies.
All day I've been jotting little notes to myself, so I don't forget anything. Last week I forgot my anti-perspirant and had to get the front desk to bring me one. So, I've got all these little sticky notes around now and hopefully I'll remember everything tomorrow.
I took a few minutes today and added my reading list to the blog. It's over there to the side below my profile and stuff. If you don't have a very big screen you'll probably have to scroll to see it. At any given time I'm reading no less than two books, usually a mix of novels, short story collections, poetry, drama, memoir and biography. I don't usually get into two novels at the same time, although right now I'm finishing one off while I've already started the next. I read everyday, even if it's only for 10 or 15 minutes. It's the last thing I do before I go to sleep. I have trouble getting to sleep usually, so reading really helps. Anyway, I thought you might like to keep up with my reading habits and also that it would be cool to keep track of all the books. I'll try to write little opinions about them to keep it interesting for you :-)
Anyway, I'm off with a ton of stuff to do still before I can go to bed. I will blog in my notebook while I'm away and post it here when I return. Later!
Mood: Buoyant
Drinking: Tea
Listening To: the hum of my computer
Hair: CLEAN!! Finally.
All day I've been jotting little notes to myself, so I don't forget anything. Last week I forgot my anti-perspirant and had to get the front desk to bring me one. So, I've got all these little sticky notes around now and hopefully I'll remember everything tomorrow.
I took a few minutes today and added my reading list to the blog. It's over there to the side below my profile and stuff. If you don't have a very big screen you'll probably have to scroll to see it. At any given time I'm reading no less than two books, usually a mix of novels, short story collections, poetry, drama, memoir and biography. I don't usually get into two novels at the same time, although right now I'm finishing one off while I've already started the next. I read everyday, even if it's only for 10 or 15 minutes. It's the last thing I do before I go to sleep. I have trouble getting to sleep usually, so reading really helps. Anyway, I thought you might like to keep up with my reading habits and also that it would be cool to keep track of all the books. I'll try to write little opinions about them to keep it interesting for you :-)
Anyway, I'm off with a ton of stuff to do still before I can go to bed. I will blog in my notebook while I'm away and post it here when I return. Later!
Mood: Buoyant
Drinking: Tea
Listening To: the hum of my computer
Hair: CLEAN!! Finally.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Bugs, Bugs, Bugs
I'm going freaking nuts!! I have to get out of this house and escape to my nice hotel room in Freddy Beach! The house is infested with bugs. And not the cute little bugs you saw in A Bug's Life, NOOOO, I'm talking big mother fucking spiders! HUGE!!! And they're everywhere. My skin is crawling just thinking about it.
The horror started about a week ago when we got our firewood in the basement. First it was just ants. Now, ants are kind of creepy but really they don't bother me that much . . . I wouldn't have a stroke if one got on me or anything. But now it is the spiders! And I just can't deal with that crap. . . well maybe if they were puny little things, but these are long legged beasts, quick as a bunny and scary as old hell.
I go to put something in the garbage can and one runs out from underneath it. Dad is sitting in the kitchen (blind as a bat I might add) and sees one running across the floor in the living room! I'm sitting on the lazy boy chair watching tv and one runs across the wall right by my arm. They're in the landing, the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, the hall . . . they're EVERYWHERE! Why God? WHY?!
So, we're killing them off one by one and hoping to get the house back sometime before the snow flies. I k know I'm not supposed to kill anything with eyes, but a person can't be expected to live in a nest of spiders, one or two is fine, but not the whole extended family. I shudder to think about how many of these buggers are being murdered in the basement every night when Dad is playing darts.
Maybe it's this invasion that has me so freaked out I scared myself last night when I was trying to fall asleep and had to turn on the light. I was lying in bed, trying to drift off into happy dreamland, when all of a sudden I started thinking about this movie I had seen. I don't know what it's called, but maybe you've seen it. It's a horror film based on a true story about a woman in the U.S. who keeps getting attacked and raped/ beat around by a demon spirit.
I saw it a long time ago, and have no idea what made me think about it. So, I'm lying there in the dark trying not to think about this movie that is supposedly based on true events because what if I somehow summon the thing here if I think about it too much. So, I'm trying to think about other more pleasant things and then I see the girl from The Ring climbing out of the well . . . Did you see The Ring? Man! Now, that's a scary movie! That's when I had to turn on the light and read a little bit longer to clear my head of terrible thoughts.
Good Lord! Why am I telling you all this and thinking about that crap again tonight?! I need to go play a video game or read a funny story or something before I turn out the light.
Mood: Creeped Out!
Drinking: Diet Pepsi
Listening To: Nothing :-( I don't have enough RAM to blog, listen to music, get email and download tunes
Hair: . . . Ummm, I'd rather not say
The horror started about a week ago when we got our firewood in the basement. First it was just ants. Now, ants are kind of creepy but really they don't bother me that much . . . I wouldn't have a stroke if one got on me or anything. But now it is the spiders! And I just can't deal with that crap. . . well maybe if they were puny little things, but these are long legged beasts, quick as a bunny and scary as old hell.
I go to put something in the garbage can and one runs out from underneath it. Dad is sitting in the kitchen (blind as a bat I might add) and sees one running across the floor in the living room! I'm sitting on the lazy boy chair watching tv and one runs across the wall right by my arm. They're in the landing, the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, the hall . . . they're EVERYWHERE! Why God? WHY?!
So, we're killing them off one by one and hoping to get the house back sometime before the snow flies. I k know I'm not supposed to kill anything with eyes, but a person can't be expected to live in a nest of spiders, one or two is fine, but not the whole extended family. I shudder to think about how many of these buggers are being murdered in the basement every night when Dad is playing darts.
Maybe it's this invasion that has me so freaked out I scared myself last night when I was trying to fall asleep and had to turn on the light. I was lying in bed, trying to drift off into happy dreamland, when all of a sudden I started thinking about this movie I had seen. I don't know what it's called, but maybe you've seen it. It's a horror film based on a true story about a woman in the U.S. who keeps getting attacked and raped/ beat around by a demon spirit.
I saw it a long time ago, and have no idea what made me think about it. So, I'm lying there in the dark trying not to think about this movie that is supposedly based on true events because what if I somehow summon the thing here if I think about it too much. So, I'm trying to think about other more pleasant things and then I see the girl from The Ring climbing out of the well . . . Did you see The Ring? Man! Now, that's a scary movie! That's when I had to turn on the light and read a little bit longer to clear my head of terrible thoughts.
Good Lord! Why am I telling you all this and thinking about that crap again tonight?! I need to go play a video game or read a funny story or something before I turn out the light.
Mood: Creeped Out!
Drinking: Diet Pepsi
Listening To: Nothing :-( I don't have enough RAM to blog, listen to music, get email and download tunes
Hair: . . . Ummm, I'd rather not say
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Freddy Play by Play
My overnight excursion to Fredericton was fabulous and now I'm really looking forward to going back this week. The bus got in on time but Mary was not waiting to pick me up. I found out later that she went to pick me up on Wednesday, but even if I had arrived on Wednesday she would have missed me because she went an hour too late, lol. So, I grabbed a cab and headed off to the hotel on my own. Since it was rush hour traffic was hell and it took about 25 minutes to get up over the hill. I was freaked out, thought for sure the cab would cost 20 bucks. But I soon discovered that cabs are super cheap in Fredericton. It only cost $5 for that ride.
The lobby of the hotel was really nice with a fireplace and sofas and an area with tables set up so you could sit and have coffee (24 hr complimentary coffee service -- two thumbs up for that!) or enjoy the continental breakfast in the morning.
I forgot to bring Mom's credit card I used to reserve the room so I had to leave a $100 security deposit at the front desk just in case I trashed the room or took off with the TV or something. That left me a little concerned about whether I had brought enough cash or not. They put me in a room on the ground floor with an exit to the outside (motel style) as well as an inside entrance/exit.
I wasn't really comfortable there . . . you know, girl traveling alone, ground floor . . . I don't know, I didn't like it much. So, when my door wouldn't catch to close I seized the opportunity to get a different room upstairs and requested an upstairs room for this week also.
By the time I got settled there wasn't any time left to eat or anything so I just changed my clothes, freshened up and grabbed a cab to the university. My driver had no idea where the building I wanted was located so that was a bit of a challenge and took a little longer than I expected but still I arrived in one piece (only $4!).
I found Mary freaking out in the auditorium. Apparently, anything that could go wrong, had gone wrong. But things were basically under control by the time I arrived. I got to sit in the front row reserved seating and all I had to do was run around like mad and find a table, carry it downstairs, and endure the snotty ladies from the CBC who were quite put-out that we hadn't arranged water for them. HELLO! You're journalists (debatable), not celebrities! If I did voice work all the time I think I'd have water with me. Anyway, they rubbed me the wrong way with all their juvenile eye rolling and snickering.
Ann-Marie's people sent the standard famous person list of demands which Mary was going a bit nuts trying to fulfill. But Ann-Marie herself was very personable and not at all diva-esque.
Beth Powning read first from her novel The Hatbox Letters. I was blown away by the beauty of the sound of the book. WOW! The story really hadn't interested me much when I read the synopsis, but after hearing Beth's reading I knew I had to buy this book.
Ann-Marie went second. Of course, I had already read The Way the Crow Flies and had all the books in a bag under my seat to get signed after. Ann-Marie started as an actress and this was obvious from her reading. DOUBLE WOW!! This was the best reading I've ever been to, not that I've been to many, but still. It was as if she were acting out all the characters. She had all the voices down, from the little girl to the father, the psychiatrist to Bugs Bunny. I was particularly impressed with her use of silence. At one point she stared off into the distance as if the character were pondering and she held that silence for a good 20-25 seconds. That's tough to do. It's tough to take your time when you're reading or doing any sort of public speaking and just let the silence speak for itself.
After the readings the floor opened for questions. This was an insightful part of the evening for me. The audience was mostly university students from the drama or English departments, so they had lots of great questions. The girl from the CBC did not! You could totally tell that she hadn't read any of their books or maybe ANY book in a really long time. She asked them where they got their inspiration for Christ's sake. That's like asking the parents of the murdered child how they feel or leading with "It's every parents worst nightmare." How does the woman keep her job? To top things off she sat in the chair designated for Beth Powning and spoke at length with her own response to one of the questions the students asked the authors. What's up with that?
But enough hating on the CBC chick and her publicist or agent or whoever that was with her.
One thing I found particularly interesting was the authors discussion of writers block. Ann-Marie said she saw it more as a void than a block, which I totally agreed with. The standard response about writers block is usually to get away from it, take a break, go back at it later. But she wanted to stress something else as well -- first, you must suffer. That really struck me. She stressed that you had to suffer through the agony of the void in order to get through it and not to be so quick to take a break. Only after you've suffered and still you have the void, then you should take a break and get some distance. I thought that was pretty interesting. I think I'm often too quick to give up.
Another thing that came out of the Q & A was a comment from one of the students. The reading Ann-Marie gave was identical to one she gave there earlier this year or last fall and this student had attended that reading as well. She said she hadn't read the book before the first reading and found herself laughing as many in the audience had laughed at this reading. But since the first reading she read the book and this time she found the reading more somber and sad now that she knew the context. I had the opposite happen to me. I read the book before the reading . . . but I missed a lot of the humour in my reading, I was overwhelmed by the sadness and seriousness of the story. But I laughed when she read and I knew the context. I thought that was an interesting contrast, that I found the humour in her oral reading and the university student found the sorrow.
After the reading I bought Beth's book and got all my books signed. I told Ann-Marie that I worked a Sunday matinee at the Annex theatre back in 1988 and had been a fan of her work ever since. She was thrilled and flattered and very gracious. She's much smaller in real life than what I expected. On Life & Times she looks taller, more substantial. She's really a wisp of a woman.
After the readings Mary drove me back to the hotel. She thanked me for coming and helping her out and for all the press releases I've written. She said she's been getting lots of compliments about the press releases since I started writing them, which was nice to hear. It was about 10:30 when I went into the lobby. I got a cup of coffee to take up to my room and signed out a dvd to watch in case I couldn't find anything on television -- Calendar Girls (not as good as I had hoped).
I got back in my room just in time to catch the tail end of Canadian Idol and ordered pizza from Pizza Delight which came around 11 . . . pretty late to be eating supper, but I was starved! I tossed and turned all night and then got up at 8 and went down for breakfast.
The breakfast actually really impressed me. There was a lot more variety than what I thought there would be -- various kinds of muffins, bagels and pastries, homemade bread for toast, English muffins, four different kinds of cold cereal, one hot cereal, coffee, various kinds of tea, orange juice, apple juice, milk -- there was lots to pick from and a good crowd chowing down. I had a bagel with cream cheese and coffee and then went back up to my room to shower and get ready to go home.
I checked out an hour before the bus was scheduled to leave. I thought that would be plenty of time because it was mid-morning so the cab ride shouldn't have taken that long. My driver decided to take the scenic route or something and the cab ride went on forever!! But I wasn't worried because I had given myself lots of time . . . or so I thought. I was horrified to finally reach the station and realise that every kid in the university was lined up for bus tickets home for the weekend. The line-up was all the way out on the sidewalk!! I don't know why I didn't buy a return ticket to begin with . . . I just got in line and hoped for the best, started strategizing what I would do if i missed the bus, did I have enough cash to get a room and try again on Saturday and so on. Luckily, the line up moved pretty quickly and I got out of there in lots of time to catch my bus.
The ride home was uneventful and I got picked up by Jen and the kids without a hitch. Sherry couldn't pick me up because Paulina was sick . . . wouldn't you know it, now I'm feeling sick too. Sore throat, pain around my eyes, achy body, BLECH! Just in time for my big trip to Freddy this week, when everyone will be there, when all the events are happening. Hopefully I'll recover in time.
So, I had a great time and the reading was everything I expected and more.
Mood: sluggish
Drinking: Cabernet Sauvignon (California)
Listening To: Virgin Radio Classic Rock live from the UK (Paul McCartney & Wings)
Hair: Dirty, with a capital D
The lobby of the hotel was really nice with a fireplace and sofas and an area with tables set up so you could sit and have coffee (24 hr complimentary coffee service -- two thumbs up for that!) or enjoy the continental breakfast in the morning.
I forgot to bring Mom's credit card I used to reserve the room so I had to leave a $100 security deposit at the front desk just in case I trashed the room or took off with the TV or something. That left me a little concerned about whether I had brought enough cash or not. They put me in a room on the ground floor with an exit to the outside (motel style) as well as an inside entrance/exit.
I wasn't really comfortable there . . . you know, girl traveling alone, ground floor . . . I don't know, I didn't like it much. So, when my door wouldn't catch to close I seized the opportunity to get a different room upstairs and requested an upstairs room for this week also.
By the time I got settled there wasn't any time left to eat or anything so I just changed my clothes, freshened up and grabbed a cab to the university. My driver had no idea where the building I wanted was located so that was a bit of a challenge and took a little longer than I expected but still I arrived in one piece (only $4!).
I found Mary freaking out in the auditorium. Apparently, anything that could go wrong, had gone wrong. But things were basically under control by the time I arrived. I got to sit in the front row reserved seating and all I had to do was run around like mad and find a table, carry it downstairs, and endure the snotty ladies from the CBC who were quite put-out that we hadn't arranged water for them. HELLO! You're journalists (debatable), not celebrities! If I did voice work all the time I think I'd have water with me. Anyway, they rubbed me the wrong way with all their juvenile eye rolling and snickering.
Ann-Marie's people sent the standard famous person list of demands which Mary was going a bit nuts trying to fulfill. But Ann-Marie herself was very personable and not at all diva-esque.
Beth Powning read first from her novel The Hatbox Letters. I was blown away by the beauty of the sound of the book. WOW! The story really hadn't interested me much when I read the synopsis, but after hearing Beth's reading I knew I had to buy this book.
Ann-Marie went second. Of course, I had already read The Way the Crow Flies and had all the books in a bag under my seat to get signed after. Ann-Marie started as an actress and this was obvious from her reading. DOUBLE WOW!! This was the best reading I've ever been to, not that I've been to many, but still. It was as if she were acting out all the characters. She had all the voices down, from the little girl to the father, the psychiatrist to Bugs Bunny. I was particularly impressed with her use of silence. At one point she stared off into the distance as if the character were pondering and she held that silence for a good 20-25 seconds. That's tough to do. It's tough to take your time when you're reading or doing any sort of public speaking and just let the silence speak for itself.
After the readings the floor opened for questions. This was an insightful part of the evening for me. The audience was mostly university students from the drama or English departments, so they had lots of great questions. The girl from the CBC did not! You could totally tell that she hadn't read any of their books or maybe ANY book in a really long time. She asked them where they got their inspiration for Christ's sake. That's like asking the parents of the murdered child how they feel or leading with "It's every parents worst nightmare." How does the woman keep her job? To top things off she sat in the chair designated for Beth Powning and spoke at length with her own response to one of the questions the students asked the authors. What's up with that?
But enough hating on the CBC chick and her publicist or agent or whoever that was with her.
One thing I found particularly interesting was the authors discussion of writers block. Ann-Marie said she saw it more as a void than a block, which I totally agreed with. The standard response about writers block is usually to get away from it, take a break, go back at it later. But she wanted to stress something else as well -- first, you must suffer. That really struck me. She stressed that you had to suffer through the agony of the void in order to get through it and not to be so quick to take a break. Only after you've suffered and still you have the void, then you should take a break and get some distance. I thought that was pretty interesting. I think I'm often too quick to give up.
Another thing that came out of the Q & A was a comment from one of the students. The reading Ann-Marie gave was identical to one she gave there earlier this year or last fall and this student had attended that reading as well. She said she hadn't read the book before the first reading and found herself laughing as many in the audience had laughed at this reading. But since the first reading she read the book and this time she found the reading more somber and sad now that she knew the context. I had the opposite happen to me. I read the book before the reading . . . but I missed a lot of the humour in my reading, I was overwhelmed by the sadness and seriousness of the story. But I laughed when she read and I knew the context. I thought that was an interesting contrast, that I found the humour in her oral reading and the university student found the sorrow.
After the reading I bought Beth's book and got all my books signed. I told Ann-Marie that I worked a Sunday matinee at the Annex theatre back in 1988 and had been a fan of her work ever since. She was thrilled and flattered and very gracious. She's much smaller in real life than what I expected. On Life & Times she looks taller, more substantial. She's really a wisp of a woman.
After the readings Mary drove me back to the hotel. She thanked me for coming and helping her out and for all the press releases I've written. She said she's been getting lots of compliments about the press releases since I started writing them, which was nice to hear. It was about 10:30 when I went into the lobby. I got a cup of coffee to take up to my room and signed out a dvd to watch in case I couldn't find anything on television -- Calendar Girls (not as good as I had hoped).
I got back in my room just in time to catch the tail end of Canadian Idol and ordered pizza from Pizza Delight which came around 11 . . . pretty late to be eating supper, but I was starved! I tossed and turned all night and then got up at 8 and went down for breakfast.
The breakfast actually really impressed me. There was a lot more variety than what I thought there would be -- various kinds of muffins, bagels and pastries, homemade bread for toast, English muffins, four different kinds of cold cereal, one hot cereal, coffee, various kinds of tea, orange juice, apple juice, milk -- there was lots to pick from and a good crowd chowing down. I had a bagel with cream cheese and coffee and then went back up to my room to shower and get ready to go home.
I checked out an hour before the bus was scheduled to leave. I thought that would be plenty of time because it was mid-morning so the cab ride shouldn't have taken that long. My driver decided to take the scenic route or something and the cab ride went on forever!! But I wasn't worried because I had given myself lots of time . . . or so I thought. I was horrified to finally reach the station and realise that every kid in the university was lined up for bus tickets home for the weekend. The line-up was all the way out on the sidewalk!! I don't know why I didn't buy a return ticket to begin with . . . I just got in line and hoped for the best, started strategizing what I would do if i missed the bus, did I have enough cash to get a room and try again on Saturday and so on. Luckily, the line up moved pretty quickly and I got out of there in lots of time to catch my bus.
The ride home was uneventful and I got picked up by Jen and the kids without a hitch. Sherry couldn't pick me up because Paulina was sick . . . wouldn't you know it, now I'm feeling sick too. Sore throat, pain around my eyes, achy body, BLECH! Just in time for my big trip to Freddy this week, when everyone will be there, when all the events are happening. Hopefully I'll recover in time.
So, I had a great time and the reading was everything I expected and more.
Mood: sluggish
Drinking: Cabernet Sauvignon (California)
Listening To: Virgin Radio Classic Rock live from the UK (Paul McCartney & Wings)
Hair: Dirty, with a capital D
Thursday, September 16, 2004
From the Road . . .
As I stare out the bus window, it occurs to me how simply I could just disappear. What if I got on another bus in Fredericton headed to Montreal or Maine? Nobody would notice me missing until tomorrow. What would they think when I didn't get off the bus? Would they immediately start to worry? Or would they laugh and think I had missed the bus home? Or would they get angry at my stupidity? When would they start looking for me? How easy would I be to find?
Bus tickets are uniform items, no names, no identification. The girls at the Irving in Blackville would surely remember me purchasing a ticket if for no other reason than there were only two of us. But in Fredericton they must see lots of faces, many people passing through, I'm sure I would blend in.
I'm a pretty inconspicuous wallflower these days. I've fallen off the radar screen. I remember being younger and strangers speaking to me in the street, following me, chasing me even -- there was something about me I guess. I was very approachable and non-threatening. I drew the crazies. Not so much anymore. In a way I miss all the attention . . . but mostly I'm happy not to have to deal with all those people anymore. People don't notice me much now. I'm older of course and heavier, but I'm also more . . . I don't know, cynical? I've become my mother. I'm too old and thick through the middle to be of interest to men or women as either a possible conquest or a potential threat. I've become a kind of sexless blob. (Ironic this should come as I close in on my sexual peak ;-) But I don't mind. I can get on another bus, board a train, catch a flight to destination unknown, slip away in the night unnoticed and unmissed.
This is what I think about on the bus ride to Fredericton. Outside my window I see --
. . . a field with one, two, three, four deer, possibly more. But I've gone past.
. . . a lifesized carving of a moose wears a hunters orange vest so he won't get shot at during the hunting season.
. . . a flock of at least a dozen ducks float by a pillar on an old stone train bridge.
. . . every house in this small town has a wreath of dried flowers hanging in the window of the front door.
. . . a small rack of antlers left outside on an old washing machine. Exposed to the elements, enduring all types of weather, the antlers have aged to a dirty grey. Why keep them at all if they're not a valued prize to be mounted in the living room? I wonder if the family at least ate the meat or if the deer died for no good reason at all.
We stop at a gas station but this is no Mainway. This place is like J.D.'s bastard son -- flaking paint, walls browning with dirt, grimy windows -- the station is like an aging relative, abandoned in this decrepit town, left to rot.
I've forgotten how high up you are in an SMT bus. I can see things from here that I can't from car level. A road winds through a forest gully and into a tiny bridge. Hills roll off into the distance. This province is nothing but woods.
Suddenly I noticed I'm sitting at the Emergency Exit -- Pull up bar. Push out window. I repeat this silent mantra and worry. Can I do it? I don't want this responsibility and glance around nervously to see the faces of those I must save.
I wonder about the houses outside the window. Beautiful new homes on perfectly landscaped lots with lovely gardens and trees. These people care about their homes. This is obvious. Yet, right in the middle of them an old abandoned house falls into the ground surrounded by weeds. Why? Who owns this monstrosity? And why have they not torn it down?
Mood: Contemplative
Drinking: Water
Listening To: The sigh of air conditioning, the drone of road sounds and the tinny beat of faraway music playing on another passenger's stereo headphones
Hair: Fly-Away
Bus tickets are uniform items, no names, no identification. The girls at the Irving in Blackville would surely remember me purchasing a ticket if for no other reason than there were only two of us. But in Fredericton they must see lots of faces, many people passing through, I'm sure I would blend in.
I'm a pretty inconspicuous wallflower these days. I've fallen off the radar screen. I remember being younger and strangers speaking to me in the street, following me, chasing me even -- there was something about me I guess. I was very approachable and non-threatening. I drew the crazies. Not so much anymore. In a way I miss all the attention . . . but mostly I'm happy not to have to deal with all those people anymore. People don't notice me much now. I'm older of course and heavier, but I'm also more . . . I don't know, cynical? I've become my mother. I'm too old and thick through the middle to be of interest to men or women as either a possible conquest or a potential threat. I've become a kind of sexless blob. (Ironic this should come as I close in on my sexual peak ;-) But I don't mind. I can get on another bus, board a train, catch a flight to destination unknown, slip away in the night unnoticed and unmissed.
This is what I think about on the bus ride to Fredericton. Outside my window I see --
. . . a field with one, two, three, four deer, possibly more. But I've gone past.
. . . a lifesized carving of a moose wears a hunters orange vest so he won't get shot at during the hunting season.
. . . a flock of at least a dozen ducks float by a pillar on an old stone train bridge.
. . . every house in this small town has a wreath of dried flowers hanging in the window of the front door.
. . . a small rack of antlers left outside on an old washing machine. Exposed to the elements, enduring all types of weather, the antlers have aged to a dirty grey. Why keep them at all if they're not a valued prize to be mounted in the living room? I wonder if the family at least ate the meat or if the deer died for no good reason at all.
We stop at a gas station but this is no Mainway. This place is like J.D.'s bastard son -- flaking paint, walls browning with dirt, grimy windows -- the station is like an aging relative, abandoned in this decrepit town, left to rot.
I've forgotten how high up you are in an SMT bus. I can see things from here that I can't from car level. A road winds through a forest gully and into a tiny bridge. Hills roll off into the distance. This province is nothing but woods.
Suddenly I noticed I'm sitting at the Emergency Exit -- Pull up bar. Push out window. I repeat this silent mantra and worry. Can I do it? I don't want this responsibility and glance around nervously to see the faces of those I must save.
I wonder about the houses outside the window. Beautiful new homes on perfectly landscaped lots with lovely gardens and trees. These people care about their homes. This is obvious. Yet, right in the middle of them an old abandoned house falls into the ground surrounded by weeds. Why? Who owns this monstrosity? And why have they not torn it down?
Mood: Contemplative
Drinking: Water
Listening To: The sigh of air conditioning, the drone of road sounds and the tinny beat of faraway music playing on another passenger's stereo headphones
Hair: Fly-Away
And I'm Off!
Well, today's the day. Gotta pack! I'm leaving for Fredericton at 3 this afternoon, get there a little before 5pm. Mary might be there to pick me up. Busy evening planned and I'll be back here by early tomorrow afternoon. Such a flying trip! I'll probably end up buying Beth Powning's book. She's reading with Ann-Marie MacDonald. I think I've got everything Ann-Marie might be selling, so I'll just get them signed (NOTE TO SELF - Remember to pack your books to get signed)Beth Powning is an artist as well as writer. She takes some pretty amazing photographs. I saw some of her work at a gallery in Sackville earlier this summer. I think she lives in Shediac. Anyway, her novel called The Hat Boxes sounds pretty interesting and once I've heard her read from it I'm sure I'll have a hard time NOT buying the book.
I watched Canadian Idol last night even though I'm still devastated by the loss of my boy Jacob. I even voted a few times (maybe 20) for Theresa. There's no way in hell that Kalan won't win this thing, he doesn't need my vote to secure that position. I've always really liked Theresa anyway and I think it would be cool if we had an Idol that was a little more smoky around the edges. I'm probably going to miss the results show but Mom's going to tape it I think.
I also watched a little bit of a new CTV show that came on after. I think it's called Rising Star or something like that, basically about a 15 year old girl dealing with the instant fame of winning one of those talent contests like Idol. It wasn't bad, I suppose. But geared toward a much younger audience. Maybe it'll be the next Degrassi.
I see there's some new stories up on the Bread 'n Molasses website. And now I'm off to have pancakes. I'm on this pancake kick again (NEVER a good thing, loads of carbs in those suckers!) I've been experimenting with making them from scratch without a mix. Yesterday I made some using whole wheat flour with a touch of cinnamon and they were really good . . . so yeah, I'm going back for more. I mightn't get to eat much today with being in transit and having so much stuff to do. There probably won't be any refreshments at the reading . . . I'm not sure if there's a restaurant in my hotel. It could be breakfast tomorrow before I see any more food. So, I'm going to enjoy my pancake creations for the time being and hope they keep me from starving later.
Mood: Upbeat
Drinking: Tea
Listening To: Sk8er Boie, Avril Lavigne
Hair: Can't believe I never had time to dye it!!
I watched Canadian Idol last night even though I'm still devastated by the loss of my boy Jacob. I even voted a few times (maybe 20) for Theresa. There's no way in hell that Kalan won't win this thing, he doesn't need my vote to secure that position. I've always really liked Theresa anyway and I think it would be cool if we had an Idol that was a little more smoky around the edges. I'm probably going to miss the results show but Mom's going to tape it I think.
I also watched a little bit of a new CTV show that came on after. I think it's called Rising Star or something like that, basically about a 15 year old girl dealing with the instant fame of winning one of those talent contests like Idol. It wasn't bad, I suppose. But geared toward a much younger audience. Maybe it'll be the next Degrassi.
I see there's some new stories up on the Bread 'n Molasses website. And now I'm off to have pancakes. I'm on this pancake kick again (NEVER a good thing, loads of carbs in those suckers!) I've been experimenting with making them from scratch without a mix. Yesterday I made some using whole wheat flour with a touch of cinnamon and they were really good . . . so yeah, I'm going back for more. I mightn't get to eat much today with being in transit and having so much stuff to do. There probably won't be any refreshments at the reading . . . I'm not sure if there's a restaurant in my hotel. It could be breakfast tomorrow before I see any more food. So, I'm going to enjoy my pancake creations for the time being and hope they keep me from starving later.
Mood: Upbeat
Drinking: Tea
Listening To: Sk8er Boie, Avril Lavigne
Hair: Can't believe I never had time to dye it!!
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Sign of the Times
Outside this morning with Nick I noticed some huge toadstools. And I mean HUGE!! Like I expected Papa Smurf to run out from the garden and shake a big stick at me.
I can't ever remember seeing this many mushrooms and things growing around the dooryard. It's just the last couple of years that I've started noticing this, but this year has been by far the worse. They're popping up everywhere! All over the lawns, in the bushes, the ditches, even on the gravel of the driveway where you wouldn't expect anything to sprout.
I think this is a sign of the times, the effect of all our soggy weather. I mean how many really hot and sunny nice days have we had this year? I think I remember two . . . maybe three. The effects of this destroying the environment thing should soon be obvious to everyone shouldn't it? All the knuckleheads running the countries around the world can't ignore all the changing weather patterns much longer can they? Alberta had snow this past week . . . SNOW! Think about it.
Mood: Puzzled
Drinking: bottom of the barrel boiled to death orange pekoe tea with milk
Listening To: the steady hum of machinery outside my window
Hair: Hopeless!!
I can't ever remember seeing this many mushrooms and things growing around the dooryard. It's just the last couple of years that I've started noticing this, but this year has been by far the worse. They're popping up everywhere! All over the lawns, in the bushes, the ditches, even on the gravel of the driveway where you wouldn't expect anything to sprout.
I think this is a sign of the times, the effect of all our soggy weather. I mean how many really hot and sunny nice days have we had this year? I think I remember two . . . maybe three. The effects of this destroying the environment thing should soon be obvious to everyone shouldn't it? All the knuckleheads running the countries around the world can't ignore all the changing weather patterns much longer can they? Alberta had snow this past week . . . SNOW! Think about it.
Mood: Puzzled
Drinking: bottom of the barrel boiled to death orange pekoe tea with milk
Listening To: the steady hum of machinery outside my window
Hair: Hopeless!!
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
A World of Dreams
Overslept. The alarm did not go off and I can't figure out why . . . everything seems right with the clock. Oh well, so I got an extra 3 hours of sleep, yay! I must've needed it.
In case I've never mentioned it, I have a very active dream life -- if I'm asleep, I'm dreaming. I dream in colour (shocked to learn most people don't, actually) and my dreams are like movies or plays. I'm in them of course, but I'm also off to the side watching them happen, maybe even making changes to the way things unfold, rewriting the script sometimes, definitely directing the production.
97% of the time I know I'm dreaming and the other 3% I have the most horrifying nightmares anyone could ever have. The percentage of nightmares used to be much higher but I'm finding the older I get, the less nightmares I have. This is good, because I have had some pretty terrifying nightmares in my day.
I also have a bunch of dreams that I dream over and over again — recurring dreams. There are probably about a dozen of them and I'll dream them once every six months or so. Sometimes I just let them unfold like they always have before. Sometimes I tweak them to see what happens. They usually aren't scary, but as dreams go, I seem to have a lot of fun with the stable of recurring ones; they're dependable, like old friends. You might think all this is kind of weird, but I'm just pretty in touch with the world of my dreams. It's a big part of what makes me, me.
Anyway, about five years ago a kind of odd thing started happening with my dreams. About once a week at least one celebrity shows up in my dreams. I call it my "celebrity guest stars." Obviously, my subconscious didn't think I was an interesting enough character to carry off these dreams all on my own so we had to go Hollywood. Sometimes, it's pretty low budget stuff and David Soul pops in for a cameo. Other times it's a bigger deal like when the entire Bon Jovi band shows up, and bring Heather Locklear.
I don’t seem to have much control over who pops in, but it's always a nice surprise. One night last week I was roaring around the streets of Rome on the back of a motorcycle driven by Kiefer Sutherland (I suspect too many Ford commercials might be the culprit there). Anyway, last night's dream had a really interesting celebrity guest star duo — Jen & Ben! Yeah, Bennifer showed up in my dream, which is rather odd because not only are they no longer a couple but I'm not a fan of either, I'd trade them both in for a single Matt Damon appearance any day. But hey, I get what I get I guess, Matt is obviously too busy to drop by.
In the dream, Stacy and I were on a road trip vacation and we stopped in this little town (which looked A LOT like the Rapids). We got invited to this big Thanksgiving dinner or something with a family of Heatherington's (yeah, you're right, I know that family). Anyway, we're at this dinner (where there was not so much turkey by the way but a tonne of candy!) and enter Ben looking frazzled because he has just seen Jen and her new hubby checking into a cottage down the road. Of course, I console him, offer advice, etc. Yeah, he's not my favourite, but come on — he's Ben Affleck! Anyway, he's having none of my shenanigans (that's the kind of word Ben throws around — shenanigans ;-) and he goes out to spy on her.
Cut to the good part of the movie/ dream. Turns out Jen also saw Ben out of the corner of her eye and sneaked to find him. They reunite in the bushes surrounding the cottage, declare their undying love for one another and he brings her back to this big dinner where we've finished eating all the candy and have moved onto the entertainment portion of the evening — KARAOKE!! Oddly, she does not sing, he does, but still it's kind of sweet, in his "I'm doing Regis Philbin" kind of way. You can totally tell though that she's just out for a night of closure, she will not be leaving the hubby anytime soon, which makes me feel a little sad for Ben because he really seems to want her back. The dream ended with him singing (badly, I might add) "You're So Vain."
Do you think I'm celebrity obsessed?
My dreams are really weird sometimes . . . maybe I shouldn't write them down. Could this be the material my family uses one day to have me committed? Something to keep in mind.
Mood: sunny
Drinking: tea & water simultaneously
Listening To: Ah, la paterno mano -- Andrea Bocelli
Hair: tucked behind my right ear
In case I've never mentioned it, I have a very active dream life -- if I'm asleep, I'm dreaming. I dream in colour (shocked to learn most people don't, actually) and my dreams are like movies or plays. I'm in them of course, but I'm also off to the side watching them happen, maybe even making changes to the way things unfold, rewriting the script sometimes, definitely directing the production.
97% of the time I know I'm dreaming and the other 3% I have the most horrifying nightmares anyone could ever have. The percentage of nightmares used to be much higher but I'm finding the older I get, the less nightmares I have. This is good, because I have had some pretty terrifying nightmares in my day.
I also have a bunch of dreams that I dream over and over again — recurring dreams. There are probably about a dozen of them and I'll dream them once every six months or so. Sometimes I just let them unfold like they always have before. Sometimes I tweak them to see what happens. They usually aren't scary, but as dreams go, I seem to have a lot of fun with the stable of recurring ones; they're dependable, like old friends. You might think all this is kind of weird, but I'm just pretty in touch with the world of my dreams. It's a big part of what makes me, me.
Anyway, about five years ago a kind of odd thing started happening with my dreams. About once a week at least one celebrity shows up in my dreams. I call it my "celebrity guest stars." Obviously, my subconscious didn't think I was an interesting enough character to carry off these dreams all on my own so we had to go Hollywood. Sometimes, it's pretty low budget stuff and David Soul pops in for a cameo. Other times it's a bigger deal like when the entire Bon Jovi band shows up, and bring Heather Locklear.
I don’t seem to have much control over who pops in, but it's always a nice surprise. One night last week I was roaring around the streets of Rome on the back of a motorcycle driven by Kiefer Sutherland (I suspect too many Ford commercials might be the culprit there). Anyway, last night's dream had a really interesting celebrity guest star duo — Jen & Ben! Yeah, Bennifer showed up in my dream, which is rather odd because not only are they no longer a couple but I'm not a fan of either, I'd trade them both in for a single Matt Damon appearance any day. But hey, I get what I get I guess, Matt is obviously too busy to drop by.
In the dream, Stacy and I were on a road trip vacation and we stopped in this little town (which looked A LOT like the Rapids). We got invited to this big Thanksgiving dinner or something with a family of Heatherington's (yeah, you're right, I know that family). Anyway, we're at this dinner (where there was not so much turkey by the way but a tonne of candy!) and enter Ben looking frazzled because he has just seen Jen and her new hubby checking into a cottage down the road. Of course, I console him, offer advice, etc. Yeah, he's not my favourite, but come on — he's Ben Affleck! Anyway, he's having none of my shenanigans (that's the kind of word Ben throws around — shenanigans ;-) and he goes out to spy on her.
Cut to the good part of the movie/ dream. Turns out Jen also saw Ben out of the corner of her eye and sneaked to find him. They reunite in the bushes surrounding the cottage, declare their undying love for one another and he brings her back to this big dinner where we've finished eating all the candy and have moved onto the entertainment portion of the evening — KARAOKE!! Oddly, she does not sing, he does, but still it's kind of sweet, in his "I'm doing Regis Philbin" kind of way. You can totally tell though that she's just out for a night of closure, she will not be leaving the hubby anytime soon, which makes me feel a little sad for Ben because he really seems to want her back. The dream ended with him singing (badly, I might add) "You're So Vain."
Do you think I'm celebrity obsessed?
My dreams are really weird sometimes . . . maybe I shouldn't write them down. Could this be the material my family uses one day to have me committed? Something to keep in mind.
Mood: sunny
Drinking: tea & water simultaneously
Listening To: Ah, la paterno mano -- Andrea Bocelli
Hair: tucked behind my right ear
Monday, September 13, 2004
Granted a Reprieve
I gave in and laid down late this afternoon; I wasn't getting any work done anyway. Slept until 9:30 pm. Normally, I'm not much for napping in the evening, screws up my system, makes it impossible to sleep later, but today this was just what I needed. Feeling a lot better now that my bones got some rest. I also slept with my neck brace on which helps a lot sometimes to take the kinks out. Ready to dance now, baby! Too bad my radio stream keeps cutting in and out, but coming in pretty good for dial up I guess.
So, I got an email this evening from Mary at the WFNB that I'm kind of jazzed about. She wanted to know if I could come a bit earlier for the Ann-Marie MacDonald reading in case she needs help setting anything up and so on. Of course, I jumped on that. Anything that puts me in tighter with the writer crew is way cool in my book. When my novel is done, success or failure could come down to who I know not how good or bad the thing is written . . . because I mean we pretty much know it's going to pure genius, right? ;-)
Hey! Stop laughing.
In the mail today I finally got the first issue of NB Ink that I did. The copy job was not the best, I gotta say. Super dark on some pages, light on others. I'll have to take a few minutes before I do the December one and see what I can do to make it turn out better when it's reproduced, which percentage greyscale shows up best and so on. Judy (WFNB pres) emailed me and said she thought it was great, so I guess that's something. It was actually a lot of fun to do and extra cash is always good.
In other news I've exchanged a couple of emails with a new guy these past couple of days . . . if I were a sk8er girl I'd say he's "hawt", lol. Yeah, he's a cutie from his pics anyway. 24 years old. (I don't know what is up with me and the 24 year old guys! Is it because I'm entering into my sexual peak years and guys that age are right there with me?)Dark features and hair, which is good because quite frankly I have to get over that whole blonde thing. He's an English major (Can we say WRITER?!!) at Mount A. (HELLO SACKVILLE!!) He sent me a smile on one of those dating sites and we've exchanged a couple of messages. It's kind of cool, he's taking the classes I want to take so I've been picking his brains. Definitely a sign, confirmation that Sackville is the place, if nothing else. Don't you think? Apparently if I want to get into this particular creative writing course I've got my eye on, I have to submit a portfolio in the spring for the fall term. Good to know.
Anyway, time to get some work done since I slept the evening away. I've got a lot on the go with this Alden Nowlan Lit festival, website changes and the like.
Mood: Soaring
Drinking: Diet Pepsi
Listening To: Virgin Classic Rock Radio - Live from the UK (Walk this way, Aerosmith)
Hair: surprisingly soft and fluffy for being so dirty
So, I got an email this evening from Mary at the WFNB that I'm kind of jazzed about. She wanted to know if I could come a bit earlier for the Ann-Marie MacDonald reading in case she needs help setting anything up and so on. Of course, I jumped on that. Anything that puts me in tighter with the writer crew is way cool in my book. When my novel is done, success or failure could come down to who I know not how good or bad the thing is written . . . because I mean we pretty much know it's going to pure genius, right? ;-)
Hey! Stop laughing.
In the mail today I finally got the first issue of NB Ink that I did. The copy job was not the best, I gotta say. Super dark on some pages, light on others. I'll have to take a few minutes before I do the December one and see what I can do to make it turn out better when it's reproduced, which percentage greyscale shows up best and so on. Judy (WFNB pres) emailed me and said she thought it was great, so I guess that's something. It was actually a lot of fun to do and extra cash is always good.
In other news I've exchanged a couple of emails with a new guy these past couple of days . . . if I were a sk8er girl I'd say he's "hawt", lol. Yeah, he's a cutie from his pics anyway. 24 years old. (I don't know what is up with me and the 24 year old guys! Is it because I'm entering into my sexual peak years and guys that age are right there with me?)Dark features and hair, which is good because quite frankly I have to get over that whole blonde thing. He's an English major (Can we say WRITER?!!) at Mount A. (HELLO SACKVILLE!!) He sent me a smile on one of those dating sites and we've exchanged a couple of messages. It's kind of cool, he's taking the classes I want to take so I've been picking his brains. Definitely a sign, confirmation that Sackville is the place, if nothing else. Don't you think? Apparently if I want to get into this particular creative writing course I've got my eye on, I have to submit a portfolio in the spring for the fall term. Good to know.
Anyway, time to get some work done since I slept the evening away. I've got a lot on the go with this Alden Nowlan Lit festival, website changes and the like.
Mood: Soaring
Drinking: Diet Pepsi
Listening To: Virgin Classic Rock Radio - Live from the UK (Walk this way, Aerosmith)
Hair: surprisingly soft and fluffy for being so dirty
Seasons Change
Not having a very good day. The seasons are changing, it's no longer summer and fall hasn't quite settled in either. This means I'm in agony with arthritis -- I am every time the seasons change. Such is the life of an old arthritic broad I guess ;-) I didn't sleep a wink last night. I went to bed and closed my eyes and rolled round and round all night trying to get comfortable until finally I just said to hell with it and got up at 5:30 am. There's just no comfort when I'm in this state. I knew it was coming but hoped it would hold off until after my Fredericton trip. There's no preventing it, all the supplements, exercise, etc. only help ease the pain somewhat, but they don't get rid of it completely. Seasons change and I go into a flare. That's just the way it is. Today, I've had my neck brace on all day, keeping myself wrapped up in sweaters and blankets to help keep dampness out of the joints. My fingers and wrists are particularly bad so I've been rubbing on the deep cold which of course always gets into my eyes and makes my eyes water. Great for my sinuses though, clearing them right out breathing in all this menthol. But I must look like a big blubbering mess. It's really exhausting after only 24 hours, hopefully it'll let up a little and let me sleep some tonight. I've got so much work to do and I don't want to be a zombie come Thursday when I finally get to meet Ann-Marie MacDonald. It's days like this that I really have to focus on the good days I've had this summer, remember them.
Mood: Achy breaky
Drinking: nothing. Got a dry mouth too.
Listening To: Teenage Wasteland, The Who
Hair: In my eyes
Mood: Achy breaky
Drinking: nothing. Got a dry mouth too.
Listening To: Teenage Wasteland, The Who
Hair: In my eyes
OMG!! What have I done?!
So, I finally bit the bullet and sent the link for my personal blog to some friends. Now of course I'm a little neurotic wondering exactly what I've written all these months and if any of it is going to come back to haunt me if my friends read it. . . I'm resisting the urge to delete all the posts except the most recent before anyone gets here. . . resisting . . . still resisting . . . THIS IS HARD!
Okay. I'm good. For now.
Welcome to my blog!
Mood: Freaked out
Drinking: Bordeaux
Listening To: Pride, U2
Hair: getting grey
Okay. I'm good. For now.
Welcome to my blog!
Mood: Freaked out
Drinking: Bordeaux
Listening To: Pride, U2
Hair: getting grey
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Freddy Time
So, this week I'm heading out for a brief overnighter to Fredericton. It's the Alden Nowlan Literary Festival and Ann-Marie MacDonald is giving a reading on Thursday night. I'm a big fan of her work. I worked a matinee performance of Goodnight Desdemona, Good Morning Juliet at Nightwood Theatre back in the 80's. I sold t-shirts in the lobby at intermission and instead of being paid in cash I got a free t-shirt and to see the play. This was before it won all the awards and stuff. That's when I first started liking Ann-Marie MacDonald. I've followed her writing and acting career ever since. So, on Thursday afternoon I'm catching the bus to Freddyville, checking into a hotel for the night, grabbing some supper and going to a reading/signing at the university. Hopefully, I'll get to meet her and get my books signed and have a good time. I'm staying overnight, checking out early, getting back on the bus and I'll be home by early afternoon. It's a flying trip. But it'll be worth it I think. Next week I'm going for a longer excursion and participating in more of the Festival events. My friend, Elizabeth, is giving a reading and I'm taking a workshop. Stacy might take a mini-break and come with me to some of the events and visit with people in Fredericton. That'll be fun.
Mood: Full *burp*
Drinking: Cold Coffee with cream
Listening To: Virgin Radio UK (Special on The Clash)
Hair: loose & Golden Blonde
Mood: Full *burp*
Drinking: Cold Coffee with cream
Listening To: Virgin Radio UK (Special on The Clash)
Hair: loose & Golden Blonde
Date Night
Last night was Date Night! And no, that doesn't mean what you probably think it means. Date Night happens when my best friend and I get together and do something. Actually, it doesn't even have to be at night, sometimes we start in the morning and go the whole day. But yesterday was not one of those days. (Exhausting! Can't do those things too often.)
I met up with Stacy at her work around 4 pm. While she finished up I surfed the web on the high-speed connection getting the latest scoop on Jacob Hoggard from message boards. Anyone else devastated by his departure from Canadian Idol? Man!! I thought for sure it would be down to a showdown between him and Kalan. I thought Kalan would probably win in the end but that the voting would be pretty intense and close. I'll be keeping my eyes out for Jacob and his band Hedley. I think they'll go far. I downloaded a bunch of clips from the show and made a Jacob CD for Stacy that I gave her yesterday.
Anyway, we left around 5:30 and headed to Newcastle to pick up some oil for Stacy's boyfriend. I was expecting a couple of cases of litre containers, but of course it ended up being big ass drums. Stacy nearly threw out her back lifting them into the trunk. I probably should have helped, huh? ;-) Yeah, well anyway, then we went to one of our favourite shopping places --- The Liquor Store! Going to the liquor store for me and Stacy is almost as good as an office supplies or book store, we can go in and stay forever, looking at everything, deciding what to try. I'm on a big red wine kick lately. So, I'm always trying different blends from different countries. Stacy's on a margarita and fruity drink kick so she's always looking for new mixers and coolers to try. Last night we were in a hurry though, so I just grabbed a bottle of Bordeaux I knew I liked and she got some coolers and we were out of there without browsing too much.
Off to Jungle Jim's for supper. We're both on this Tex-Mex kick since we went to Moncton in the spring and had the best Tex-Mex food at Lone Star. So, we ordered the nachos with beef and margaritas. Very good! Jungle Jim's is the place to go on the river for tex-mex and margaritas. And we should know, because we've been EVERYWHERE in search of the best margarita. Saddlers has the best one, by the way, but no nachos on the menu. A bit too many jalepenos for my liking at Jungle Jim's, but hey that's easily fixed the next time I order.
After supper we went shopping in the mall, looking for a watch for Stacy. She's allergic to metals so she needs a watch made entirely of plastic or wrapped in fabric or something so no metal touches her skin. Needless to say this is challenging and she hasn't had a watch in awhile. We couldn't find any last night.
A Stacy/Kellie excursion would not be complete without buying something so we decided to head over to Rogers Video and see what dvds were on sale. JACKPOT! We hit the 2 for $15 sale! Yay! Stacy bought 4 newer releases while I caught up with some oldies but goodies. I got Four Weddings & A Funeral with Hugh Grant, Better Off Dead with John Cusack, Heathers (CLASSIC!!) with Winona Ryder and Christian Slater (the original trench coat boy!) and then I got an Italian film called Respiro that won a bunch of awards and looked interesting. I was pretty excited about finding Better Off Dead and Heathers. I'm a DVD junkie. I love the extra features! I rarely bought VHS tapes but with DVDs I buy them constantly. I think it's worse than books . . . and that's really saying something.
So after the shopping spree it was time to get to the point of our little outing and head to the movie theatre. We had some difficulty deciding between Wicker Park and Without a Paddle. Both had mixed reviews from reviewers and people we knew. But finally we went with Wicker Park because it started earlier and went into it with no expectations whatsoever. People said it was confusing, all the shifting from past to present. I don't know what that was all about, the shifts were really smooth and not at all confusing. I mean really they were quite linear and standard, nothing out of left field at all. Very weird that people would find it confusing. Pulp Fiction was 100 times more confusing because the order of the story wasn't chronological and I didn't find Pulp Fiction confusing at all. LOL Another comment people had made about the film was that it was stupid, one telephone call could have cleared up the whole mess. Watching it though, calls were made, other calls were attempted, it was quite logical why they never connected. Another comment I heard was that you didn't know what was going on until the end, edge of the seat sort of a good confusion. But I didn't find that either. There was no big reveal at the end. All in all, it was a pretty good movie, NOBODY does being in love like Josh Hartnett! I also heard he slept through the whole thing without any emotion, which I completely disagree with. I found his character to be very believable and expressive. And I'm not the biggest Josh Hartnett fan in the world or anything like that. If you were on the fence about going to see this, I say go for it. It was a good time.
I got home around 11:30, poured a glass of wine and popped in Heathers. I haven't seen it in awhile. Forgot how funny it was. Classic!
Mood: Lazy
Listening to: Jonny Lang, "Red Light"
Drinking: black coffee
Hair: strawberry blonde
I met up with Stacy at her work around 4 pm. While she finished up I surfed the web on the high-speed connection getting the latest scoop on Jacob Hoggard from message boards. Anyone else devastated by his departure from Canadian Idol? Man!! I thought for sure it would be down to a showdown between him and Kalan. I thought Kalan would probably win in the end but that the voting would be pretty intense and close. I'll be keeping my eyes out for Jacob and his band Hedley. I think they'll go far. I downloaded a bunch of clips from the show and made a Jacob CD for Stacy that I gave her yesterday.
Anyway, we left around 5:30 and headed to Newcastle to pick up some oil for Stacy's boyfriend. I was expecting a couple of cases of litre containers, but of course it ended up being big ass drums. Stacy nearly threw out her back lifting them into the trunk. I probably should have helped, huh? ;-) Yeah, well anyway, then we went to one of our favourite shopping places --- The Liquor Store! Going to the liquor store for me and Stacy is almost as good as an office supplies or book store, we can go in and stay forever, looking at everything, deciding what to try. I'm on a big red wine kick lately. So, I'm always trying different blends from different countries. Stacy's on a margarita and fruity drink kick so she's always looking for new mixers and coolers to try. Last night we were in a hurry though, so I just grabbed a bottle of Bordeaux I knew I liked and she got some coolers and we were out of there without browsing too much.
Off to Jungle Jim's for supper. We're both on this Tex-Mex kick since we went to Moncton in the spring and had the best Tex-Mex food at Lone Star. So, we ordered the nachos with beef and margaritas. Very good! Jungle Jim's is the place to go on the river for tex-mex and margaritas. And we should know, because we've been EVERYWHERE in search of the best margarita. Saddlers has the best one, by the way, but no nachos on the menu. A bit too many jalepenos for my liking at Jungle Jim's, but hey that's easily fixed the next time I order.
After supper we went shopping in the mall, looking for a watch for Stacy. She's allergic to metals so she needs a watch made entirely of plastic or wrapped in fabric or something so no metal touches her skin. Needless to say this is challenging and she hasn't had a watch in awhile. We couldn't find any last night.
A Stacy/Kellie excursion would not be complete without buying something so we decided to head over to Rogers Video and see what dvds were on sale. JACKPOT! We hit the 2 for $15 sale! Yay! Stacy bought 4 newer releases while I caught up with some oldies but goodies. I got Four Weddings & A Funeral with Hugh Grant, Better Off Dead with John Cusack, Heathers (CLASSIC!!) with Winona Ryder and Christian Slater (the original trench coat boy!) and then I got an Italian film called Respiro that won a bunch of awards and looked interesting. I was pretty excited about finding Better Off Dead and Heathers. I'm a DVD junkie. I love the extra features! I rarely bought VHS tapes but with DVDs I buy them constantly. I think it's worse than books . . . and that's really saying something.
So after the shopping spree it was time to get to the point of our little outing and head to the movie theatre. We had some difficulty deciding between Wicker Park and Without a Paddle. Both had mixed reviews from reviewers and people we knew. But finally we went with Wicker Park because it started earlier and went into it with no expectations whatsoever. People said it was confusing, all the shifting from past to present. I don't know what that was all about, the shifts were really smooth and not at all confusing. I mean really they were quite linear and standard, nothing out of left field at all. Very weird that people would find it confusing. Pulp Fiction was 100 times more confusing because the order of the story wasn't chronological and I didn't find Pulp Fiction confusing at all. LOL Another comment people had made about the film was that it was stupid, one telephone call could have cleared up the whole mess. Watching it though, calls were made, other calls were attempted, it was quite logical why they never connected. Another comment I heard was that you didn't know what was going on until the end, edge of the seat sort of a good confusion. But I didn't find that either. There was no big reveal at the end. All in all, it was a pretty good movie, NOBODY does being in love like Josh Hartnett! I also heard he slept through the whole thing without any emotion, which I completely disagree with. I found his character to be very believable and expressive. And I'm not the biggest Josh Hartnett fan in the world or anything like that. If you were on the fence about going to see this, I say go for it. It was a good time.
I got home around 11:30, poured a glass of wine and popped in Heathers. I haven't seen it in awhile. Forgot how funny it was. Classic!
Mood: Lazy
Listening to: Jonny Lang, "Red Light"
Drinking: black coffee
Hair: strawberry blonde
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
What to do when your "Get Up & Go" gets up and goes
God! What a weekend! Every Labour Day weekend for the last, oh . . . I don't know, probably 13 years, my ex-boyfriend's kids have come to stay at my mom's house for the weekend. Yeah, I know that's kind of weird, but what can you do? My mom loves those kids. So, this year the oldest girl turned 13 and we had a big get together for the weekend as usual. Things got underway Saturday evening when we had a pot luck supper. I stayed up until 3 am Friday night cooking . . . and drinking some wine (a whopping four glasses actually!) I made a few different dishes, bbq pork and stir fried rice medley, taco hamburger medley with nachos, guacamole, spicy beef and mexican rice, honey garlic chicken, and Italian chicken in marinara with pasta. Yeah, I do love to cook! And I even did dishes for this special occasion. One of my sisters' made sweet 'n sour meatballs, potatoe scallop and hamburger rolls. The other made a potatoe, chicken, broccolli and cheese casserole. Top the dinner off with rolls, butter, a nice bottle of Bordeaux, chocolate birthday cake and ice cream . . . and it was quite the feast. I think there are still some leftovers in the fridge, though my brother can have them, I'm still stuffed!
My sisters brought their kids and husbands and we played some birthday type games with prizes and later had a campfire outside and made smores (which I never had before, yummy!) Sunday morning everyone returned to my mom's house for a birthday brunch complete with pancakes, sausage, bacon, ham, hash browns, etc. I didn't enjoy brunch very much I admit. By the time all the children were fed everything was overcooked and dried out. There weren't enough pancakes. Mom's heart didn't seem into it. Brunch had been her idea but then that morning she didn't want to cook anything, no eggs, no toast, no muffins, no scones, nothing really brunch-like, just a breakfast with a lot of different types of burnt pork. I don't know what was up with that. But anyway, it's over finally and all the children have gone home, gone off to school actually, and my mother has gone back to work and finally I'm alone in the house and have a little peace and quiet. It's nice. So nice I gave myself a facial and dared to shave my legs. But I have to admit, all the weekend eating is still weighing me down a bit. Blech! It's back to lean meats, whole grains and veggies tomorrow.
Mood: Played Right the F' Out!
Listening to: Chariot, Gavin DeGraw
Drinking: Hardy's Cabernet Merlot (Australia)
Hair: greasy
My sisters brought their kids and husbands and we played some birthday type games with prizes and later had a campfire outside and made smores (which I never had before, yummy!) Sunday morning everyone returned to my mom's house for a birthday brunch complete with pancakes, sausage, bacon, ham, hash browns, etc. I didn't enjoy brunch very much I admit. By the time all the children were fed everything was overcooked and dried out. There weren't enough pancakes. Mom's heart didn't seem into it. Brunch had been her idea but then that morning she didn't want to cook anything, no eggs, no toast, no muffins, no scones, nothing really brunch-like, just a breakfast with a lot of different types of burnt pork. I don't know what was up with that. But anyway, it's over finally and all the children have gone home, gone off to school actually, and my mother has gone back to work and finally I'm alone in the house and have a little peace and quiet. It's nice. So nice I gave myself a facial and dared to shave my legs. But I have to admit, all the weekend eating is still weighing me down a bit. Blech! It's back to lean meats, whole grains and veggies tomorrow.
Mood: Played Right the F' Out!
Listening to: Chariot, Gavin DeGraw
Drinking: Hardy's Cabernet Merlot (Australia)
Hair: greasy
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