Let's have a little chat

The latest

...additions to my reading list arrived in the mail.


As I've mentioned before, I'm a big fan of Guy Gavriel Kay, so buying Ysabel was a given. I wasn't so sure about buying the Dawkins book. I'd heard good things about it, but the review at Amazon put me off. I finally decided to order it after a chat over at Salt and Ice.

The books are now on a shelf in my newly painted, newly reorganized office. Well, there's one wall left to paint, but that has to wait until the weekend after next. Anyhow, because of the changes, the lighting was no longer adequate for evening reading, so I went to Flin Flon to buy the perfect lamp. Alas, no such lamp presented itself. I then looked through the Sears catalogues. I searched through Home Depot and Staples. Still nothing. Convinced that the lamp of my dreams did not exist, I toddled off to the studio to work on a watercolour. An hour or so into painting, I touched the paper with a brush that was overloaded with water. In a mad scramble for paper towel, I noticed a lamp. A lonely little lamp that hasn't been used in years. A lamp that I'd forgotten about. The lamp of my dreams was in the studio all this time, right in front of my nose.

If daydreaming

...is the default state of the brain, it's no surprise that my mind always wanders off. Today, as I was standing on a ladder washing walls, I began to daydream about rocks. In a comment on a recent post Rhett said "I'm glad your painting has improved and that you aren't sitting around like a rock." Of course I began to think about all the rocks sitting around here, some of which are pictured below, and wondered which rock I sit like. I can't decide.

I do know that my favourite poem in which rock sits is Shakespeare's Sonnet 55.

Not marble nor the gilded monuments
Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room,
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.

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Today a request

...to borrow my copy of Joy Kogawa's Obasan showed up in my inbox. I was taking a short break from painting at the time, so I grabbed the book off the shelf and rattled off a quick reply saying yes. However, I neglected to look inside the book before I replied to see what state I'd left it in. Luckily I was in my blue phase when I read it. Key passages are highlighted in a screaming peacock blue, but the majority of arrows, brackets and underlines are just pencilled in. I hope it won't be too distracting. Joy Kogawa will be one of the presenters at Talking Fresh 5 in Regina in March.

Things went well in the studio today. H was right. The painting wasn't as hopeless as I'd thought. I suspect my sweet tooth was behind all the trouble I was having with it yesterday.

After I was done painting, I came into my office and hauled all the books out of the bookcases. They're currently piled knee-deep in the living room. Then H hauled out the bookcases to ready the walls for a fresh coat of paint.

Seven literary salons

...will be held in Regina between January 13 and February 19 and it sounds like there are more in the works for 2008. That's fantastic.

Sometimes a painting

...comes easily, other times not. I started a new work today and it's already driving me bananas. At 2 p.m. I plunked the brush down mid-stroke and went to The Orange Toad for coffee. When things go well in the studio, I indulge in celebratory food. When things don't go well, I indulge in consoling food. So I ordered a raspberry pear muffin. It was almost as big as my head! Ok. Maybe that's exaggerating a bit, but it was huge. And delicious. I was smiling in no time. I still have to head back to the studio to clean up. H was in there a little while ago and said he thinks the painting is off to a good start. I hope he's right.

For those

...who, like me, follow a number of science blogs, there is now the science blogging anthology aptly titled The Open Laboratory: The Best Writing on Science Blogs 2006. It was put together in only three weeks. Wow.

The raven returned to its post

...

It's Saturday

...but not just any Saturday. It's Hockey Day in Canada! I'm sure you're all in your pjs, cuddled up on the couch, sipping tea. This afternoon, as I was sitting there under my blanket, watching the Senators bash Montreal (8-3. Yikes! Souray scored a beauty though. I'm a big fan of Souray), I thought of the muse bash we'd talked about last year. March isn't far off.

After that blow-out, we cracked open Tracy's famous salsa. Can you see the smoke? I'm on fire! I've been burning for over an hour now. It's absolutely delicious. H is hogging the salsa though. He hasn't stopped eating.

Needless to say, Hockey Day in Canada calls for superdelicious food. For lunch we finished off H's fabulous Orzo with Calamari, a dish reserved for special occasions. For supper H made a glorious thin crust pizza with garlic, feta, olives and tomatoes. I'm stuffed.

We have two games yet to watch. Toronto vs. Vancouver. I'll be cheering for the Leafs as always. Unfortunately some of my favourite players are out with injuries, Darcy Tucker being one. His approach to hockey is much like my approach to writing poems. After that, we'll watch the Oilers take on the Flames. I like both teams, but have a soft spot for the Oilers, Ryan Smyth embodying my approach to poetry as well. However, as I've said before, it's the play of Mikka Kiprusoff, the goalie for the Flames, that represents perfectly the kind of writer I want to be. Just watch him. You'll see.

I apologize

...for the poor quality of this image. The picture was taken at an angle through triple pane glass. It's the best I could do. Anyhow, this is what's unfolding outside my office window this morning. This raven has been going on and on for an hour now. It's cutting into my ability to think. I can't concentrate on what I'm reading. I can't write. Worse yet, another raven has been hanging around. They seem to be very interested in this particular tree. Since ravens begin breeding and egg-laying in a month, I suspect they plan to build a nest here. Indeed, it would be a great place for a nest, but it would be detrimental to my work. I know what hungry little ravens sound like. I'd definitely have to set up an office elsewhere.

There's a blizzard

...happening south of here. Stay inside and stay warm, people!

Here it's grey. Windy. The birds look cold. I've been reading and taking notes. Later today I will take down the poems that now cover the wall in front of me to make room for whatever comes. Having the poems tacked up on the wall has been working well for me. Just seeing that I've been productive, that something is actually happening, is exciting.

By the way, I have more books on order. The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins and Ysabel by Guy Gavriel Kay. Not being a fan of hardcovers, I usually wait for the paperback, but I made a couple of exceptions here. Recent comments on other blogs have left me curious about the Dawkins book and I've been looking forward to Kay's new one for quite some time. I hope the books will be riveting enough to make up for the clumsy, heavy covers, not to mention the sound of the cat's head when she bunts the book. Only well-structured, well-written books can stand up to a furry, purring wrecking ball.

My book order

...finally arrived! Well, part of it anyhow.


I've read Tim Lilburn's Tourist to Ecstasy before, but I didn't have it in my collection. I do now.

Robert Bringhurst's Nine Visits to the Mythworld was described in a recent conversation as an important book. I look forward to reading it. Amazon wasn't able to obtain a copy of Bringhurst's new book, The Tree of Meaning: Thirteen Talks, which I had ordered as well. I've since learned from McNally Robinson that the book has gone into another printing, so I will get a copy eventually. I hear the book is very good.

Rachel Lebowitz's Hannus came as a pleasant surprise. I like to read books by both members of a poet couple and compare them, looking for similarities in style, influences, etc. It's a hobby of mine. My shelves contain books by Don McKay and Jan Zwicky, Lorna Crozier and Patrick Lane, David Seymour and Karen Solie, and now Rachel Lebowitz and Zachariah Wells, each couple's books shelved together, side by side. So I bought Lebowitz's book without really knowing what it's about. When I took the book out of the box, I read the back cover. This bit caught my attention:

Hannus is a creative biography of Ida Hannus, a Finnish-Canadian suffragist and socialist living in Vancouver and in the BC Finnish commune Sointula through the turn of the century to the Cold War. Approached from different angles, employing a collage of techniques, Hannus is a constantly shifting -- and consistently engaging -- narrative that raises questions about the reliability of history and biography.

Engaging, indeed. I grew up in the Finnish community of Rock Point. Needless to say, curiosity kicked right in and I started flipping through the book. Hannus contains lots of photos and newspaper clippings. I've been examining the faces in the photos, looking for any that might resemble my relatives or neighbours.

In other news, I finished writing my face-off poem. I've been reading The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins, a truly entertaining book. And I got a ukulele for Christmas. The cat hates the ukulele. Absolutely hates it.