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I subscribed to Geist. They sent me this key chain.
Nice. I look forward to the magazine.
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We drive through Kamsack several times each year and when we do I often think of John Newlove. I picture his young self walking the streets. Today when I listened to Zach read Newlove's "No Pleasure," I immediately saw the houses and sidewalks on the two well treed streets that get us through town. That surprised me. The first line of the poem stuck with me all day. "There is no pleasure anywhere."
6 comments:
You get the feeling reading Newlove that he had a hard time finding pleasure anywhere. As for Kamsack, despite its rampant verdure, he "found it arid, as young men will."
Sheesh. Well, I'd like to think he would've found pleasure in a bowl of Rhona's smoked oyster pate.
I'm going to order a copy of his selected. While I've borrowed books by him from friends, I'm ashamed to say my own collection is lacking Newlove.
Yum. I remember the pate. Perhaps it can be Melancholy Bay Pate?
Will there be some pate at the muse party? That's only a month away! I can't wait. In the meantime, I'm in training. Must look good for the muse. Oh, and I've been lobbying Gerry for cupcakes for Talking Fresh. I mean, a spring conference really should have cupcakes.
He found pleasure, alright, Zach. Just only for a short while at a time.
Don't be ashamed, B. There's not a whole lot around these days.
Ya, I read some stories about Newlove in John Metcalf's An Aesthetic Underground. Heartbreaking, really.
You're right, G. But still I hate having obvious gaps in my collection.
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