Tuesday, October 03, 2006
I like to work
...in relative silence. Whenever the phone rings I jump out of my skin. And so it goes. The phone rang a little while ago. I jumped. The cat jumped. The word I was in the middle of writing and all the thoughts that were racing ahead were reduced to a syllable followed by a sudden black line. Argh. I picked up the phone. It was H, alerting me that Roy Miki was up next on Sounds Like Canada. I immediately perked up and clicked on CBC to listen. Miki just received the Thakore Visiting Scholar Award, which honours individuals who show a concern for truth, justice and non-violence in public life. During the interview he read a poem from his book Surrender, a book I have on my shelf. Better yet, he briefly talked about the many ways of entering a poetic space. Thankfully, I was listening.
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12 comments:
THere are interruptions and there are interventions, aren't there...
Some interruptions are definitely worth it.
One of the reasons I tend to send letters is exactly because you can read it in your own time ... no jarring at all - except for the occasional freaky cat picture. (Halloween is coming, you know!)
Ah, true. Nicely put, Ariel. When will you be making your way back?
You're right, Paula Jane, some interruptions are more than welcome.
Letters are lovely, though I never know what to expect when I open yours. Freaky cat, alligator, apocalyptic penguin. Actual jars...
Today I had no interruptions. And for some odd reason I wrote a poem titled "Hush."
Friday, but the trip will most likely have to be split over two days...
I miss letters. I used to be an ardent letter-writer but email slowly took over whatever energy I had for letter writing and eventually supplanted it.
Speaking of interventions, interruptions, and letters, tonight I was in the car chauffering children here and there, and I caught an interview with Nick Bantock as he jawed about Griffin and Sabine (which I was enthralled with for years). He talked about writing the books, the idea and such, and I think he was talking about a new book, but this was hard to discern over the chatter of children.
I was never much of a letter writer as I always struggled with the page and how to best fill it, often imagining what might become of it, what box it might land in. Sometimes I wondered whose eloquent letter would be tossed on top of mine. But I was and am a grateful receiver. I guess I'm the selfish side of letters. I hoard them. On the other hand, I am an avid emailer to say the least, my messages brief, fleeting. Flittery.
Friday is nearly here.
Nick Bantock? New to me. I just looked up Griffin & Sabine. I might have to check it out. You don't by any chance have a copy that I can borrow? Not that I haven't got enough of your books here already. :)
I had the first two, lent them out, and they never returned. Sorry. They don't seem to be easy to find in used book stores either, but maybe Abe?
Darn.
I see it's a big day for Abe.
I have copies of the Griffin and Sabine books I'd be happy to lend - I have to check the scheduling to see if I can make it to the AGM in Saskatoon.
I like letter-writing. It's a narcissistic activity in some ways. I get to ramble on about whatever I want, and the receiver has to listen (or I suppose they could choose not to read it, but that's like having an unopened present!). The reply is lovely if it comes, but usually I'm happy just to have felt I've said something, even if the person receiving doesn't actually hear the words for a while.
I gave a letter to the postman,
He put it his sack.
Bright in early next morning,
He brought my letter back.
She wrote upon it:
Return to sender, address unknown.
No such number, no such zone.
We had a quarrel, a lovers spat
I write Im sorry but my letter keeps coming back.
Wonderful! If you can't make it to the conference/AGM, there's always the colony...
I like rereading letters. Handwritten ones. That's something I don't often do with email. There's something about the handwriting itself that lends to the experience.
There was a young man named Rhett (Grrrrr...)
who claimed he had sent a letter
along with the candy
that was promised me,
but no. I should've known better.
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