Pirates are plying the peanut butter sea of my mind.
I am concentrating on yoga and meditation lately. And I had a long massage this morning. Why do most people not understand that studying buddhism is not the same as becoming a buddhist? I suppose that posing such a question is a poor example of tonglen, and so I will let it go. But don't ask me again! :-)
Went to the library today, as if the tower of book by my bed (and in the closet, and on the bookcase downstairs) weren't sufficiently decadent. But I found Martin Sloane — yay! — and Angle of Repose — lots of long O's in tonight's blog — and am already devouring them. On the pick list for next week are Jane Urquhart, Roddy Doyle, and Bill Bryson, but if you have a recommendation please let me know. In the meantime I have lots to keep me busy. I could get used to summers like this, although I believe the bank is hoping that I won't.
We showed the yard to some neighbours yesterday, and the lovely Mrs couldn't get over two features: the size and the vegetables. The Mr neighbour was apparently more taken with all the blooming things, especially the mass of the 'Adelaide Hoodless' roses (which are truly impressive right now, with literally hundreds of blooms on them). I was only slightly taken aback by the assumption that I was the "foreman" on the front-yard renovation project. :-( Perhaps planting trees in a skirt isn't such a good idea.
Oh, but I picked the first Evans cherries of the season today — still a bit tart! The raspberries are almost finished, which timing I find strange. There are more than a hundred flowers or young fruits on the strawberries and we've been harvesting a small bowl a day since the beginning of July. Of course the blueberries and saskatoon didn't flower this year, but I am hopeful for next summer. I am also still lobbying for a Nanking cherry to complement the raspberry patch and lead into the fruit trees. Maybe next year?
Something beautiful to do is to sit on the deck and enjoy the flowers. The scent of the sweetpeas is strong in the late afternoon, and after supper the perfume of the evening-scented stock starts to rise. It's quite intoxicating actually — perhaps that explains a few things!
Anyway, it's late. The i-Tunes (like i-ching, but different) says: "When the silence starts to haunt you, just scream: let the voices out ..." My mother's holistic chart says that pain in the shoulders signals sadness and repressed fear. Arrgh, where's my irony shovel?
(with slight bow and modest praying hands)
laVermeer, the marxist buddhist wanna-be-hippie-chick
Monday, July 28, 2003
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
24601!
Life is good. The sun is warm. Small fruit are in season.
Have you heard about produce co-ops? Such an anti-millennium concept, communalism. But it's intriguing. Of course, I have trouble keeping up with my own garden; I don't need to pay someone for the trouble of delivering compost-to-be to my door each week.
I enjoy reading other blogs. The other day I stumbled across an interesting one (while looking for the lyrics to the Nina Hagen song "Smack Jack," incidentally), called cowpunkmom. It was a series of recollections from someone who sounds to be about my age. Unfortunately, it hasn't been updated since May, so perhaps she's done remembering. Too bad. I also enjoy one written by a woman named Hillary from California. She's into cats, poetry, and crafting. Yes I know that sounds rather dull, but she's an appealing writer. And on and on.
Sometimes I think we write only to remind ourselves that we have voices. (Other than the ones in our heads, of course.)
Today I like: Dim sum. Gaudeamus igitur iuvenes dum sumus. Pretending I'm 37. Things that bump and snuffle.
Today I dislike Evasion! Confusion! Repression! Fitting-room mirrors. Inglewood Second Cup on weekend nights. Long-distance plans.
Now reading: Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner. Firewing by Kenneth Oppel. Start Where You Are by Pema Chodron. Lots of textbooks for potential adoption.
Enough enough enough. Something inspiring though tardy.
Bread and Roses (c. 1910)
As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: "Bread and roses! Bread and roses!"
As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!
As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for roses, too!
As we come marching, marching, we bring the greater days.
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler -- ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses! Bread and roses!
Revolutionarily,
Leslie
PS: Happy birthday, Dad! (not that he's reading) on July 25.
Life is good. The sun is warm. Small fruit are in season.
Have you heard about produce co-ops? Such an anti-millennium concept, communalism. But it's intriguing. Of course, I have trouble keeping up with my own garden; I don't need to pay someone for the trouble of delivering compost-to-be to my door each week.
I enjoy reading other blogs. The other day I stumbled across an interesting one (while looking for the lyrics to the Nina Hagen song "Smack Jack," incidentally), called cowpunkmom. It was a series of recollections from someone who sounds to be about my age. Unfortunately, it hasn't been updated since May, so perhaps she's done remembering. Too bad. I also enjoy one written by a woman named Hillary from California. She's into cats, poetry, and crafting. Yes I know that sounds rather dull, but she's an appealing writer. And on and on.
Sometimes I think we write only to remind ourselves that we have voices. (Other than the ones in our heads, of course.)
Today I like: Dim sum. Gaudeamus igitur iuvenes dum sumus. Pretending I'm 37. Things that bump and snuffle.
Today I dislike Evasion! Confusion! Repression! Fitting-room mirrors. Inglewood Second Cup on weekend nights. Long-distance plans.
Now reading: Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner. Firewing by Kenneth Oppel. Start Where You Are by Pema Chodron. Lots of textbooks for potential adoption.
Enough enough enough. Something inspiring though tardy.
Bread and Roses (c. 1910)
As we come marching, marching in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: "Bread and roses! Bread and roses!"
As we come marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses!
As we come marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient cry for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for -- but we fight for roses, too!
As we come marching, marching, we bring the greater days.
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler -- ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses! Bread and roses!
Revolutionarily,
Leslie
PS: Happy birthday, Dad! (not that he's reading) on July 25.
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
Harrumph! One day the eagle has to land...
The recent depiction of your earnest scribe as a tight-fisted, taste-impaired despot is little short of slander! Not to mention that I'm not the smith living in the 32-percent tax bracket. No, me, I'm an honest jones. Who happens to own quite a few CDs. All perfectly tasty. Except for Mitsou.
Too hot to be profound. Maybe I'll go for a swim in the cool stream of consciousness. Watch out for the po-mo falls. And the dread master narrative. Don't feed the grizzlies. Or the buffalo.
... blue isn't red, everybody knows this ...
Finished Oryx and Crake. Have given up on The Polished Hoe. Will try again in the fall. Now reading The Sight — YA told from the point of view of Transylvanian wolves.
I need a life of noodle stories. Giggling madly. Indulging indulgently. Dreaming wakefully. Sigh and sigh again.
Gotta work now. More nattering later. Oh yes, and do remind me to write about the irony shovel.
The recent depiction of your earnest scribe as a tight-fisted, taste-impaired despot is little short of slander! Not to mention that I'm not the smith living in the 32-percent tax bracket. No, me, I'm an honest jones. Who happens to own quite a few CDs. All perfectly tasty. Except for Mitsou.
Too hot to be profound. Maybe I'll go for a swim in the cool stream of consciousness. Watch out for the po-mo falls. And the dread master narrative. Don't feed the grizzlies. Or the buffalo.
... blue isn't red, everybody knows this ...
Finished Oryx and Crake. Have given up on The Polished Hoe. Will try again in the fall. Now reading The Sight — YA told from the point of view of Transylvanian wolves.
I need a life of noodle stories. Giggling madly. Indulging indulgently. Dreaming wakefully. Sigh and sigh again.
Gotta work now. More nattering later. Oh yes, and do remind me to write about the irony shovel.
Monday, July 14, 2003
At last...
I know that we've all been waiting breathlessly for my thoughts and so...
Hmmm, doo-dee-doo, cogito err... sum, zoom...zoom zoom, whoo hoo... doo-dee-doo. Ta-da!
Well.. I gotta haircut, no new job, Bill bought a new Volvo (drool), Jim denies ever having sped down Groat Road (as if!). Zak's back (see Vermeer, L. 14/07/03 http://moreblaze.blogspot.com) I'll have to post some pictures of my yard soon... maybe I'll take the camera home this evening. Other than that nothing phenomenal is happening. Leslie is still not relaxing enough and I am still relaxing too much...
Oh ya, I discovered something. Though L and I share many similar music tastes and often praise the talents of many of the same artists (although admittedly she ranges farther from the mainstream than I do and she has this idiosyncratic quirk that makes her think that pianos make better primary instuments than guitars... I mean really!), I recently learned that she has no sense at all of what defines the good songs on a cd. I mean who would have thought that "See Forever Eyes" was worth rippin' and then leave out "Vladivostock" and "Take Me to the Kaptain"!
The story begins as I was making my playlist for the ipod (as some unknown evil-dooer had corrupted it with all sorts ofunworthy material) from the main library of ripped music and consistently - album after album - Leslie (she who is "in charge" of ripping cds) had managed (contrived?) not to rip the only good songs on them.
To truly understand how big a crime this is you have to understand that we have been chucking perfectly good software like crazy fools just to make room for more mp3's. Space is at a premium and every song must be made to count! So as I sat and tried to make the best playlist possible, my jaw kept dropping lower and lower. As each artist's album came up and lo I would discover barely a good track had been made available. At first I declared censorship! But it was soon obvious that her taste was actually impaired and that even she knew it. Not only were the good songs missing, but consistently, the weaker, less-worthy tracks had been meticulously added to the main library. Leslie's awareness of her own flaws was obvious as shame had driven her to deliberately set itunes to either sort by artist or song title, thereby hiding the fact that the albums had been horrifically vivisected with only the entrails left to besmirch the harddrive.
But alas even as I discover the shocking truth, there is still a conumdrum. As previously blogged, there is scant space available for the true worthy tracks and the only sensible solution (eliminating the chaff in order to store the wheat) fills me with such dread at the predictable reaction from the musical 'Big Brother', who iron-fistedly controls the access to all sources of music in the household, that I am forced to contemplate purchasing more harddrive space at great expense and personal danger, and to begin secretly adding the correct tracks to the play list. If only I can perform this action stealthily enough, then perhaps not only will taste and justice prevail, but there remains a faint hope to convert the 'uneducated ears of L' to a more soothiing and sensible aesthetic.
But alas, the danger inherent in this vision of the future is foreshadowed in Leslie's oft-quoted verse "The dream never dies, just the dreamer..." Ah, to sleep, perchance to dream... if you hear from me no more, know the truth... and now, farewell!
B
P.S. Has it ever occured to you, that in an electronic age the postscript is unnecessary and overly sefl-indulgent. Without the permanence of a pen there is no need for the afterthought... (I think?)
P.P.S. The trick is always (as previously noted) to sort the wheat from the chaff. After all there is often a grain of truth. Weeding it out can be onerous but such work can often blossom into new fields of endeavor and... aaargh, enough with the horticultural metaph....
I know that we've all been waiting breathlessly for my thoughts and so...
Hmmm, doo-dee-doo, cogito err... sum, zoom...zoom zoom, whoo hoo... doo-dee-doo. Ta-da!
Well.. I gotta haircut, no new job, Bill bought a new Volvo (drool), Jim denies ever having sped down Groat Road (as if!). Zak's back (see Vermeer, L. 14/07/03 http://moreblaze.blogspot.com) I'll have to post some pictures of my yard soon... maybe I'll take the camera home this evening. Other than that nothing phenomenal is happening. Leslie is still not relaxing enough and I am still relaxing too much...
Oh ya, I discovered something. Though L and I share many similar music tastes and often praise the talents of many of the same artists (although admittedly she ranges farther from the mainstream than I do and she has this idiosyncratic quirk that makes her think that pianos make better primary instuments than guitars... I mean really!), I recently learned that she has no sense at all of what defines the good songs on a cd. I mean who would have thought that "See Forever Eyes" was worth rippin' and then leave out "Vladivostock" and "Take Me to the Kaptain"!
The story begins as I was making my playlist for the ipod (as some unknown evil-dooer had corrupted it with all sorts ofunworthy material) from the main library of ripped music and consistently - album after album - Leslie (she who is "in charge" of ripping cds) had managed (contrived?) not to rip the only good songs on them.
To truly understand how big a crime this is you have to understand that we have been chucking perfectly good software like crazy fools just to make room for more mp3's. Space is at a premium and every song must be made to count! So as I sat and tried to make the best playlist possible, my jaw kept dropping lower and lower. As each artist's album came up and lo I would discover barely a good track had been made available. At first I declared censorship! But it was soon obvious that her taste was actually impaired and that even she knew it. Not only were the good songs missing, but consistently, the weaker, less-worthy tracks had been meticulously added to the main library. Leslie's awareness of her own flaws was obvious as shame had driven her to deliberately set itunes to either sort by artist or song title, thereby hiding the fact that the albums had been horrifically vivisected with only the entrails left to besmirch the harddrive.
But alas even as I discover the shocking truth, there is still a conumdrum. As previously blogged, there is scant space available for the true worthy tracks and the only sensible solution (eliminating the chaff in order to store the wheat) fills me with such dread at the predictable reaction from the musical 'Big Brother', who iron-fistedly controls the access to all sources of music in the household, that I am forced to contemplate purchasing more harddrive space at great expense and personal danger, and to begin secretly adding the correct tracks to the play list. If only I can perform this action stealthily enough, then perhaps not only will taste and justice prevail, but there remains a faint hope to convert the 'uneducated ears of L' to a more soothiing and sensible aesthetic.
But alas, the danger inherent in this vision of the future is foreshadowed in Leslie's oft-quoted verse "The dream never dies, just the dreamer..." Ah, to sleep, perchance to dream... if you hear from me no more, know the truth... and now, farewell!
B
P.S. Has it ever occured to you, that in an electronic age the postscript is unnecessary and overly sefl-indulgent. Without the permanence of a pen there is no need for the afterthought... (I think?)
P.P.S. The trick is always (as previously noted) to sort the wheat from the chaff. After all there is often a grain of truth. Weeding it out can be onerous but such work can often blossom into new fields of endeavor and... aaargh, enough with the horticultural metaph....
Sunday, July 13, 2003
WELCOME HOME, ZAK!!!
Zak is home tonight after more than a week on the wild Sunshine Coast. He seems about a foot taller and broader than when he left, but that's probably just a mom talking. I missed him very much.
What did we do while he was gone? Had semi-hols. AM = work; PM = play. Kinda fun to do things that way, methinks me. We went to the downtown library one day. I took out a huge stack of 70s CDs and found a Happy Rhodes disc. Amazing. Went to see lots of art — even went to the Art Walk on Whyte Avenue. Had dinner with friends. Braved the new IKEA as well as lots of other shops, but didn't buy. Worked in the garden. Sat on the deck. Read books.
I dream of blackberries. And raspberries.
Still working a little. I have a small bit of work from the College, so that's reassuring. Got the key to my office. Dance of joy! I should probably take more time off but there's that pesky mortgage to consider. Oh, did I mention I got the official notice about my degree? I will be invited to convocation in November. But I'm not going until I get my Elmer.
Now reading: Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood. The Polished Hoe — yes, still. Sigh. Various small magazines in preparation for my courses in the fall.
Today I like: Morning. Roses. Alcohol too much.
Today I dislike: Too much alcohol. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
After 11. Must sleep. Cheers!
Zak is home tonight after more than a week on the wild Sunshine Coast. He seems about a foot taller and broader than when he left, but that's probably just a mom talking. I missed him very much.
What did we do while he was gone? Had semi-hols. AM = work; PM = play. Kinda fun to do things that way, methinks me. We went to the downtown library one day. I took out a huge stack of 70s CDs and found a Happy Rhodes disc. Amazing. Went to see lots of art — even went to the Art Walk on Whyte Avenue. Had dinner with friends. Braved the new IKEA as well as lots of other shops, but didn't buy. Worked in the garden. Sat on the deck. Read books.
I dream of blackberries. And raspberries.
Still working a little. I have a small bit of work from the College, so that's reassuring. Got the key to my office. Dance of joy! I should probably take more time off but there's that pesky mortgage to consider. Oh, did I mention I got the official notice about my degree? I will be invited to convocation in November. But I'm not going until I get my Elmer.
Now reading: Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood. The Polished Hoe — yes, still. Sigh. Various small magazines in preparation for my courses in the fall.
Today I like: Morning. Roses. Alcohol too much.
Today I dislike: Too much alcohol. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
After 11. Must sleep. Cheers!
Sunday, July 06, 2003
Thursday, July 03, 2003
Thursday. Feeling happy I'm a Canadian. Lots happening. Went to the Centre for the Arts today and saw my new office. My very own office! It has six tiny glass-brick windows. Yay! My boss asked me to evaluate a portfolio, which wasn't bad but wasn't great either. Felt I was getting dragged into someone else's argument. Very odd. Slept and slept. Stupid body.
... hyperactive when I'm small, hyperactive now I'm tall, hyperactive as the day is long ...
Buddhist lesson to work on ... "Our neurosis and our wisdom are made out of the same material. If you throw out your neurosis, you also throw out your wisdom. Someone who is very angry also has a lot of energy; that energy is what's so juicy about him or her. That's the reason people love that person. The idea isn't to try to get rid of your anger, but to make friends with it, to see it clearly with precision and honesty, and also to see it with gentleness. ... The gentleness involves not repressing the anger but also not acting it out. It is something much softer and more openhearted than any of that. It involves learning how, once you have fully acknowledged the feeling of anger and the knowledge of who you are and what you do, to let it go." — Pema Chodron
Do you remember "Empty Garden", Elton John's song about John Lennon? I heard it today for the first time in years. It reminded me of the summer I was nineteen. Hmph.
Who remembers these singles? (I do! I do!)
• What Have I Done to Deserve This? - Pet Shop Boys with Dusty Springfield
• Brand New Lover - Dead or Alive
• Letting Go - Straight Lines
• Tiny Thing (Things Aren't Funny) - Jensen Interceptor
• All Touch - Rough Trade
• Twist in My Sobriety - Tanita Tikaram
• Straight from the Heart - Rosetta Stone
• Real Contender - The Wildroot Orchestra
• The Lover in Me - Sheena Easton
• The Love of a Woman - Klaatu
• Affair of the Heart - Rick Springfield
• Lead a Double Life - Loverboy --> plus Queen of the Broken Hearts by Loverboy!
• One Night in Bangkok - Murray Head
• Ball of Confusion - Love and Rockets
Just digging through the 45s ... you remember what those were, right? Ah, another lovely trip down amnesia lane ... Now if only I could find another person on the planet who remembers Larry Evoy's single "Goodbye" and anything by the Cooper Brothers ... Oh the contest we could have!
iTunes reminds me "you're the blood of me". Let me never live in silence. Falling through the stars. Want to talk all night. A purple ring of fierce love. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life. " ... " she says. She hopes he doesn't hear "save me." She means "reality." Means "sometimes difficult." Means "listen." Listening and listening and listening until the sounds dissolve into air and meaninglessness again.
Nicole and Dave are both on their way, Nicole to Newfoundland and Dave to New York. Zak is on his way to Sechelt. And I, and I ...
... you know I won't hold you back now ...
Drat! My computer's speakers would seem to be dying rapidly. Prob'ly too dusty. I really should clean this place once in a while. But now it's late and there are books calling my name. Their voices are so lovely and melodic: they've come to take me home.
with love from the obscure fearless girl...
goodnight
... hyperactive when I'm small, hyperactive now I'm tall, hyperactive as the day is long ...
Buddhist lesson to work on ... "Our neurosis and our wisdom are made out of the same material. If you throw out your neurosis, you also throw out your wisdom. Someone who is very angry also has a lot of energy; that energy is what's so juicy about him or her. That's the reason people love that person. The idea isn't to try to get rid of your anger, but to make friends with it, to see it clearly with precision and honesty, and also to see it with gentleness. ... The gentleness involves not repressing the anger but also not acting it out. It is something much softer and more openhearted than any of that. It involves learning how, once you have fully acknowledged the feeling of anger and the knowledge of who you are and what you do, to let it go." — Pema Chodron
Do you remember "Empty Garden", Elton John's song about John Lennon? I heard it today for the first time in years. It reminded me of the summer I was nineteen. Hmph.
Who remembers these singles? (I do! I do!)
• What Have I Done to Deserve This? - Pet Shop Boys with Dusty Springfield
• Brand New Lover - Dead or Alive
• Letting Go - Straight Lines
• Tiny Thing (Things Aren't Funny) - Jensen Interceptor
• All Touch - Rough Trade
• Twist in My Sobriety - Tanita Tikaram
• Straight from the Heart - Rosetta Stone
• Real Contender - The Wildroot Orchestra
• The Lover in Me - Sheena Easton
• The Love of a Woman - Klaatu
• Affair of the Heart - Rick Springfield
• Lead a Double Life - Loverboy --> plus Queen of the Broken Hearts by Loverboy!
• One Night in Bangkok - Murray Head
• Ball of Confusion - Love and Rockets
Just digging through the 45s ... you remember what those were, right? Ah, another lovely trip down amnesia lane ... Now if only I could find another person on the planet who remembers Larry Evoy's single "Goodbye" and anything by the Cooper Brothers ... Oh the contest we could have!
iTunes reminds me "you're the blood of me". Let me never live in silence. Falling through the stars. Want to talk all night. A purple ring of fierce love. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called life. " ... " she says. She hopes he doesn't hear "save me." She means "reality." Means "sometimes difficult." Means "listen." Listening and listening and listening until the sounds dissolve into air and meaninglessness again.
Nicole and Dave are both on their way, Nicole to Newfoundland and Dave to New York. Zak is on his way to Sechelt. And I, and I ...
... you know I won't hold you back now ...
Drat! My computer's speakers would seem to be dying rapidly. Prob'ly too dusty. I really should clean this place once in a while. But now it's late and there are books calling my name. Their voices are so lovely and melodic: they've come to take me home.
with love from the obscure fearless girl...
goodnight
Saturday, June 28, 2003
Blogging in the dark, waiting for the stupefying effect of another glass of Zin to kick in. Had a long long nap and now can't sleep. Lying in the summer-dark entirely lost. Such a terrifying feeling to wake up and not know where you are. Dislocated in time. Then as I was trying to fall back to sleep it happened again. It could be June, or September, or Christmas. I have talked about the garden in my mind that blooms while I edit. Perhaps there is another garden that blooms while I sleep? Watching the night struggling to arrive in the west-north: no stars out this evening.
Wherever will I use my metaphor about the elastic waist of time? It was spontaneous but pleasing.
Now reading: Clara Callan. Am adoring it. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. So far very good. The Polished Hoe. Still struggling.
Today I like: Walking with my boys. A picture of tea and crumpets. (What IS a crumpet, anyway?) Picture of a brave girl. Dickensfield chocolate donuts.
Today I dislike: Misperception. Space between. Too much disorder.
... standing in zoo station, face pressed up against the glass ...
the wind, the rain
the magpie standing sentry
green tender not placid
active not passive
the span of a hand
across a universe
Wine insufficient. Time for the food channel... - L
PS: Hi Pat!
Wherever will I use my metaphor about the elastic waist of time? It was spontaneous but pleasing.
Now reading: Clara Callan. Am adoring it. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. So far very good. The Polished Hoe. Still struggling.
Today I like: Walking with my boys. A picture of tea and crumpets. (What IS a crumpet, anyway?) Picture of a brave girl. Dickensfield chocolate donuts.
Today I dislike: Misperception. Space between. Too much disorder.
... standing in zoo station, face pressed up against the glass ...
the wind, the rain
the magpie standing sentry
green tender not placid
active not passive
the span of a hand
across a universe
Wine insufficient. Time for the food channel... - L
PS: Hi Pat!
Tuesday, June 24, 2003
The only living blogger in Edmonton, apparently. Hmph. No one feeds my addictions anymore. Finished with school almost: one set of exams to mark and grades to submit, then I'm done. My paycheque definitely says I'm done. Must find something else to do. My parents, my aunt and uncle, my grandmother, and some of my cousins are planning to come to the house for Canada Day. Must cook. Must clean. Must drink lots and lots and lots so I don't remember the carnage. No no no, I don't mean that. I think my new degree is perfect for one as self-centred as myself: MEd. Just think: I've been MEd. Oh dear — like I needed the encouragement. Cirque du Soleil was phenomenal. Worth the money and the rain. And the way you make the buffalo roam. Zak's off to PJ next week, finished school on Friday. Those were the days, my friend — we thought they'd never end. Oh but a pirate came and that changed everything, changed, changed utterly. A terrible beauty and all that. There's a lot of things if I could I'd re-arrange. Well, must dash. And I'm appositive we have nothing in comma. Hmm, I think that needs work. One of my students wrote a sexual grammar poem. It was very very good but I forgot to copy it down. The worst thing about getting older is ... something ... I knew what I was going to write a moment ago ...
Eeeks!
Eeeks!
Thursday, June 19, 2003
Finished! Well, almost finished. Just final edits to go. I hand it in tomorrow around 10. I'm happy — and now I have a few weeks to proofread thoroughly before binding.
Ottawa was SO beautiful. Saw the Parliament buildings and the National Arts Centre. Walked around a lot listening to both of Canada's official languages, sometimes within the same utterance. So cool. I was proud to be a Canadian. And we were indeed made co-chairs of Active Voice, the national newsletter. Yay!
Now reading:The Polished Hoe by Austin Clarke and The Wisdom of No Escape by Pema Chodron.
Favourite headline this week: School board rejects books with gay parents for bad grammar (from the CBC.ca news). Now that's an advocacy group! What's next, step-sisters for random punctuation?
As promised, the "thesis" of my project (the introductory statement, etc.) follows. Enjoy!
Love to all,
Leslie
Formal education is perhaps society's most efficient and most effective ideological apparatus. One visible manifestation of the ideological relationship between state and school is curriculum; indeed, as Michael Apple (1990) observes, curriculum and ideology are vitally linked. In Canada curriculum is set by the provincial education authority; in Alberta this body is called Alberta Learning. Curriculum development is based on the premise that, within a grade or subject area, teachers must teach students something; curriculum is the document that outlines what that something will be and how student apprehension of that something will be evaluated. But curriculum is more than a large set of goals and objectives: it is a catechism of the knowledge that a particular society deems valuable and worthy of transmitting to future generations. And more: it represents the institutional architecture that determines whether a child succeeds or fails in the enterprise of schooling. Through the operation of the manifest curriculum — and through the subtler manoeuvres of the hidden curriculum — those who hold power work to conserve it and those who lack power struggle to gain it. Within this climate of overt and covert contestation, the ordinary work of the school proceeds.
At schools around the world every day, teachers teach and students learn. This ordinary teaching/learning exchange is inscribed by power relations: that is, what is taught and what is learned may not be the same content. Through the machinations of cultural hegemony, teachers enact the social reproductive work of the curriculum. Such a conservative gesture is clearly apparent in Alberta's revised curriculum for high school English, introduced in 2001 and being implemented in full in September 2003. Yet at the same time, there exists within this curriculum the potential to create a lexicon of opposition. In this paper I will explain how high school English has been yoked into the sorting and selecting functions of the institution through the shifting matrices of literacy and literature; further, I will interrogate the assumptions of Alberta's new English curriculum; and finally, I will propose a mechanism to subvert the ideological work of the new curriculum by exploiting the aporia it presents.
et voila... a master's degree is awarded!
Ottawa was SO beautiful. Saw the Parliament buildings and the National Arts Centre. Walked around a lot listening to both of Canada's official languages, sometimes within the same utterance. So cool. I was proud to be a Canadian. And we were indeed made co-chairs of Active Voice, the national newsletter. Yay!
Now reading:The Polished Hoe by Austin Clarke and The Wisdom of No Escape by Pema Chodron.
Favourite headline this week: School board rejects books with gay parents for bad grammar (from the CBC.ca news). Now that's an advocacy group! What's next, step-sisters for random punctuation?
As promised, the "thesis" of my project (the introductory statement, etc.) follows. Enjoy!
Love to all,
Leslie
Formal education is perhaps society's most efficient and most effective ideological apparatus. One visible manifestation of the ideological relationship between state and school is curriculum; indeed, as Michael Apple (1990) observes, curriculum and ideology are vitally linked. In Canada curriculum is set by the provincial education authority; in Alberta this body is called Alberta Learning. Curriculum development is based on the premise that, within a grade or subject area, teachers must teach students something; curriculum is the document that outlines what that something will be and how student apprehension of that something will be evaluated. But curriculum is more than a large set of goals and objectives: it is a catechism of the knowledge that a particular society deems valuable and worthy of transmitting to future generations. And more: it represents the institutional architecture that determines whether a child succeeds or fails in the enterprise of schooling. Through the operation of the manifest curriculum — and through the subtler manoeuvres of the hidden curriculum — those who hold power work to conserve it and those who lack power struggle to gain it. Within this climate of overt and covert contestation, the ordinary work of the school proceeds.
At schools around the world every day, teachers teach and students learn. This ordinary teaching/learning exchange is inscribed by power relations: that is, what is taught and what is learned may not be the same content. Through the machinations of cultural hegemony, teachers enact the social reproductive work of the curriculum. Such a conservative gesture is clearly apparent in Alberta's revised curriculum for high school English, introduced in 2001 and being implemented in full in September 2003. Yet at the same time, there exists within this curriculum the potential to create a lexicon of opposition. In this paper I will explain how high school English has been yoked into the sorting and selecting functions of the institution through the shifting matrices of literacy and literature; further, I will interrogate the assumptions of Alberta's new English curriculum; and finally, I will propose a mechanism to subvert the ideological work of the new curriculum by exploiting the aporia it presents.
et voila... a master's degree is awarded!
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Sunday, June 08, 2003
Write write write. Procrastinate procrastinate procrastinate. It's a blotto cycle but someone's gotta do it. Depending on the font and spacing, my paper is either 26 or 50 pages of paragraphs and notes. Well, that's certainly respectable. Of course, the proving draft is due in eight days and I'm going to Ottawa in five so the math's a little awkward, but I'm sure everything will turn out properly. And if not, then I've spent four years making great charitable contributions to the U of A's well-being. No no: when it's done I'm going to post the title and thesis on the blog so we can ALL share the excitement...
My father is working too much for a working man, never mind a semi-retired grandfather. And people say I have a work addiction! At least I can see where it (and my other nasty little vices) came from.
Today I like: Cranberry juice. The rhetorical schemes: I finally learned them! French Kiss (one of my favourite movies ever and yes I know romantic comedies are aesthetically unevolved, thank you). Sundae Smarties. A smile, always a smile. Exile. Unpredictable magpies. Sun rising through mist.
Today I dislike: Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Stupid Alberta Learning website. Dirty dishes. Piles of laundry. Procrastinating. Paranoia (it'll destroy ya!). Rampant consumerism (ho ho).
Welcome: grace. Patience: courage. Perseverance: serendipity. Beauty: knowing. So may it ever be.
Must fly — really!
laV (which the spelling checker on Word wants to correct to "lava" — hmm)
My father is working too much for a working man, never mind a semi-retired grandfather. And people say I have a work addiction! At least I can see where it (and my other nasty little vices) came from.
Today I like: Cranberry juice. The rhetorical schemes: I finally learned them! French Kiss (one of my favourite movies ever and yes I know romantic comedies are aesthetically unevolved, thank you). Sundae Smarties. A smile, always a smile. Exile. Unpredictable magpies. Sun rising through mist.
Today I dislike: Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Stupid Alberta Learning website. Dirty dishes. Piles of laundry. Procrastinating. Paranoia (it'll destroy ya!). Rampant consumerism (ho ho).
Welcome: grace. Patience: courage. Perseverance: serendipity. Beauty: knowing. So may it ever be.
Must fly — really!
laV (which the spelling checker on Word wants to correct to "lava" — hmm)
Sunday, June 01, 2003
Read books like candy. Delicious: let the words slip over your tongue, play with your tastes, nourish the hunger inside you. Who shall write elliptically? I.
Grey grey gloomy day. Where are the other bloggers? Carol visited last night. She filled my head with wonderings. We spent Friday night with Bill and Valerie. They are some of my favourite people ever. I really like — and respect — smart, strong people. Then there are all those I'm running from. Oh well.
Must plant. Must write. Must research. Must mark. Must think. Must stop thinking. Life of imperatives. Why do I need an audience?
... I don't know why sometimes I get frightened ...
Finished both Up the Down Staircase and Uncomfortably Numb. Consuming as avoidance. I need to realize the metaphor of climbing the walls. Teach and cheat are anagrams. As are meta, meat and team, tho' not as effective. I hear a voice calling from the underside of the equator. Seventeen days and counting: what will I become? Whatever will the universe make of us?
Binaries binaries everywhere, always a trap, a trick, a treachery. I am a child of computer logic: both/and, if/then. Why not ask for more? Something opened in my soul one day and the world could never be enough.
Why the tears then? I'll tell you why: It's all too beautiful, all too beautiful, all too beautiful...
See? See? Look now: do you see? Do you understand? Do you hear the sounds in the symbols? The you in me?
No shadows in the city.
Leslie
... blowing through the jasmine of my mind ...
Grey grey gloomy day. Where are the other bloggers? Carol visited last night. She filled my head with wonderings. We spent Friday night with Bill and Valerie. They are some of my favourite people ever. I really like — and respect — smart, strong people. Then there are all those I'm running from. Oh well.
Must plant. Must write. Must research. Must mark. Must think. Must stop thinking. Life of imperatives. Why do I need an audience?
... I don't know why sometimes I get frightened ...
Finished both Up the Down Staircase and Uncomfortably Numb. Consuming as avoidance. I need to realize the metaphor of climbing the walls. Teach and cheat are anagrams. As are meta, meat and team, tho' not as effective. I hear a voice calling from the underside of the equator. Seventeen days and counting: what will I become? Whatever will the universe make of us?
Binaries binaries everywhere, always a trap, a trick, a treachery. I am a child of computer logic: both/and, if/then. Why not ask for more? Something opened in my soul one day and the world could never be enough.
Why the tears then? I'll tell you why: It's all too beautiful, all too beautiful, all too beautiful...
See? See? Look now: do you see? Do you understand? Do you hear the sounds in the symbols? The you in me?
No shadows in the city.
Leslie
... blowing through the jasmine of my mind ...
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
Grumble. Some days the universe owes us a refund.
On his blog today, Earl imagined what might have happened on our walk if I'd got caught dipping my head in the sprinkler the second time. Unfortunately, I don't know how to make web addresses appear invisibly with a neat here, so I'll do it this way: www.earljwoods.blogspot.com — be sure to check back regularly.
To wear long hair is to rebel.
Planted herbs tonight: dill (lots and lots), marjoram, flat-leaf parsley, salad burnet, mountain mint. Didn't plant my sorrel or lettuce — there's always tomorrow. We also put in broccoli-uckily and lots of tomatoes. Note to self: take up jogging this summer ...
Now reading (handy theft from ecto, but then me, I'm a thief): Up the Down Staircase by Bel Kaufman. Thing Feigned or Imagined by Fred Stenson. Fire Bringer by David Clement-Davies. Also innumerable bits of theory and opinion for my capping project ... tick tick tick tick tick... Looking forward to reading Uncomfortably Numb by Sharon English soon ... once I finish something else ...
Sorry I don't know how to make italics yet ... or underlines...
Today I like: All you zombies. My library card (but not the picture). The rice cooker. A sunny bench. Swimming.
Today I dislike: Harm. Blue roses: blah. :-( The clotted cream that is my brain.
Tomorrow is the PROW 200 midterm. Must proofread one more time ... Remember to dig in the garden: it makes your fingers remember they're alive.
Leslie
PS: Happy birthday, Dave! You're a wonderful 26-year-old! ;-)
On his blog today, Earl imagined what might have happened on our walk if I'd got caught dipping my head in the sprinkler the second time. Unfortunately, I don't know how to make web addresses appear invisibly with a neat here, so I'll do it this way: www.earljwoods.blogspot.com — be sure to check back regularly.
To wear long hair is to rebel.
Planted herbs tonight: dill (lots and lots), marjoram, flat-leaf parsley, salad burnet, mountain mint. Didn't plant my sorrel or lettuce — there's always tomorrow. We also put in broccoli-uckily and lots of tomatoes. Note to self: take up jogging this summer ...
Now reading (handy theft from ecto, but then me, I'm a thief): Up the Down Staircase by Bel Kaufman. Thing Feigned or Imagined by Fred Stenson. Fire Bringer by David Clement-Davies. Also innumerable bits of theory and opinion for my capping project ... tick tick tick tick tick... Looking forward to reading Uncomfortably Numb by Sharon English soon ... once I finish something else ...
Sorry I don't know how to make italics yet ... or underlines...
Today I like: All you zombies. My library card (but not the picture). The rice cooker. A sunny bench. Swimming.
Today I dislike: Harm. Blue roses: blah. :-( The clotted cream that is my brain.
Tomorrow is the PROW 200 midterm. Must proofread one more time ... Remember to dig in the garden: it makes your fingers remember they're alive.
Leslie
PS: Happy birthday, Dave! You're a wonderful 26-year-old! ;-)
Sunday, May 25, 2003
Happy day. I walked today -- yay! Got too much sun -- wah. Ever have that experience in which you know you're doing something for the last time but can't say so? You just know. Weird. That said, I was rather obnoxious about the event, I think. The ritual of the walk means something to me, and I had been looking forward to it for weeks. The fact that we CAN walk should be worth celebrating. Hmmph! I think of the reasons I began in the first place, and they're still relevant, of course; and my own possible future informs my actions as well. But regardless: the experience should be greater than we as individuals are.
I have been playing with the Apple Music Store this weekend. If you have a Mac, you should upgrade to 10.2 immediately and go play. It's REALLY fun! I can't wait for music to be licensed for Canada too. Of course, I'm going to have to get another job to afford everything I want to download. But the ethics of the solution please me. Convenient downloads -- but the artist still gets paid, and the publisher still gets a cut to support production, promotion, development, etc. And the sound quality on the samples is excellent -- WAY better than the 45s I used to buy. There are still many albums I'll want to buy complete, but the ability to buy specific tracks is very, very appealing. I hope the Music Store works!
I made blueberry cobbler -- with wild blueberries -- and cornmeal muffins for dinner. Bruce made shrimp skewers and spicy chicken. When we eat well, we really eat well. Perhaps I'll become a vegan for 33.5. Hah! There's a bouillabaisse I want to try before I take that step.
Tonight I like: Sunny days. The whirl (always always and always). Grace. The memory of my maternal grandmother making cucumbers and vinegar for dinner. Tea, for its paths.
Tonight I dislike: Complaisance. My poor spelling. The blades. Disbelief. Arching away. That I have forgotten all that I have forgotten.
Never sensible but relentlessly sensitive,
laV
because someone told me it's all happening at the zoo...
I have been playing with the Apple Music Store this weekend. If you have a Mac, you should upgrade to 10.2 immediately and go play. It's REALLY fun! I can't wait for music to be licensed for Canada too. Of course, I'm going to have to get another job to afford everything I want to download. But the ethics of the solution please me. Convenient downloads -- but the artist still gets paid, and the publisher still gets a cut to support production, promotion, development, etc. And the sound quality on the samples is excellent -- WAY better than the 45s I used to buy. There are still many albums I'll want to buy complete, but the ability to buy specific tracks is very, very appealing. I hope the Music Store works!
I made blueberry cobbler -- with wild blueberries -- and cornmeal muffins for dinner. Bruce made shrimp skewers and spicy chicken. When we eat well, we really eat well. Perhaps I'll become a vegan for 33.5. Hah! There's a bouillabaisse I want to try before I take that step.
Tonight I like: Sunny days. The whirl (always always and always). Grace. The memory of my maternal grandmother making cucumbers and vinegar for dinner. Tea, for its paths.
Tonight I dislike: Complaisance. My poor spelling. The blades. Disbelief. Arching away. That I have forgotten all that I have forgotten.
Never sensible but relentlessly sensitive,
laV
because someone told me it's all happening at the zoo...
Thursday, May 22, 2003
Stray thoughts ... Am I the only one worried that toilet-bowl cleaner now comes in icy mint flavour?
On April 18, I missed my 33 and 1/3 birthday. Rats! It would have been a great night to have a vinyl party. And it was a Friday!
Today I like: Tulips. Green leaves. Resolve. Tradition. Freewriting. Nouns. Verbs. Adjectives. Adverbs.
Today I dislike: Deadlines. Pension fund administration. Baggy tights. The student who knows who she is. My foggy foggy thoughts.
Saga break...
... I see no harm or danger in escaping
If the method suits the style
We put the mind on idle
And let the others take it for awhile
When the pace is too fast
And I think I won't last
You know where I'll be found
I'll be standing here beside myself
Getting ready for the final round
No one can stop me now
Tonight I'm on the loose ...
Walking on Sunday. Must wake up early. Only 10 km ... awwwww.
Check out www.bbc.co.uk/arts/bigread/top100.shtml -- Britain's favourite books. How many of them have you read?
We built a pergola! Bruce won't let me paint it purple. Too bad: I think an alliterative structure would be a great addition to our yard.
Sillily,
L and gone
On April 18, I missed my 33 and 1/3 birthday. Rats! It would have been a great night to have a vinyl party. And it was a Friday!
Today I like: Tulips. Green leaves. Resolve. Tradition. Freewriting. Nouns. Verbs. Adjectives. Adverbs.
Today I dislike: Deadlines. Pension fund administration. Baggy tights. The student who knows who she is. My foggy foggy thoughts.
Saga break...
... I see no harm or danger in escaping
If the method suits the style
We put the mind on idle
And let the others take it for awhile
When the pace is too fast
And I think I won't last
You know where I'll be found
I'll be standing here beside myself
Getting ready for the final round
No one can stop me now
Tonight I'm on the loose ...
Walking on Sunday. Must wake up early. Only 10 km ... awwwww.
Check out www.bbc.co.uk/arts/bigread/top100.shtml -- Britain's favourite books. How many of them have you read?
We built a pergola! Bruce won't let me paint it purple. Too bad: I think an alliterative structure would be a great addition to our yard.
Sillily,
L and gone
Sunday, May 18, 2003
Hmm. Can't let Zak do all the blogging. Alors, c'est moi.
Can't wait to move to the JP campus: music library. It's been all eighties all the time in my head this week. Wow. Next week: back to the seventies. Whee!
Wrote a letter to my MLA about school funding and copied it to the Min'ster of Larnin' and His Highness Ralph. Now when they come for me perhaps someone will speak up on my behalf. No, I probably have to do a little more before that happens. Anyway. What a silly province to inhabit.
Next week is the MS walk. Must get my feet ready. Going to Beverly -- oh boy! On Friday I sold bonanzas etc. until 1:45. Oy vay. One more to go.
All the King's Men (Tom Cochrane)
Shut your eyes my darling there's nothing you can say
the man in the moon won't fall on you
he doesn't live there anyway
you don't have to be a soldier to fight in your private war
let the blood you might see rain down on me
you don't have to fight no more
there's nothing you can say
there's nothing you can send
there's nothing that can change the facts
not all the king's men
you'll ride upon the stallion
i'll ride upon your mare
we'll ride so far ride so hard
far away from here
when we look back upon them
it all will become so clear
the gates will open up for us
we won't have no more fears
there's nothing you can say
there's nothing you can send
there's nothing that can change the facts
not all the king's men
look away look away
you might be tired and troubled but not today
when they come down upon you
I won't let them get anything on you
and I'll be there for you, May
"Oh no they won't said I!"
look away look away
you might be tired and troubled but not today
when they come down upon you
I won't let them get anything on you
and we'll dance away all those fears and troubles
look away
we both were motherless children
they sent us separate ways
the family you'd seen beat down on you
mine it was okay
I've come to take you back, May
save you from this fate
they won't have any more chances
to treat you this way
there's nothing you can say
there's nothing you can send
there's nothing that can change all that
not all the king's men
look away look away
you might be tired and troubled but not today
when they come down upon you
I won't let them get anything on you
and we'll dream away all those fears and troubles
look away.
Hey you! Yes, you. You -- I'm talking to you!
Tonight I like: Amarige. The other side of the tracks. La belle et la bête. John Prine. A grey sweater. Wolves. Small spaces. Only always I.
Tonight I dislike: Coty, for discontinuing my favourite perfume. Cleaning house. Spam. Frost in May. The idea that corned beef comes in a can. Stop signs. The four o'clock news.
... as the wind caresses the sand...
Zowie! Zoiks! Leslie (which doesn't rhyme with essence)
Can't wait to move to the JP campus: music library. It's been all eighties all the time in my head this week. Wow. Next week: back to the seventies. Whee!
Wrote a letter to my MLA about school funding and copied it to the Min'ster of Larnin' and His Highness Ralph. Now when they come for me perhaps someone will speak up on my behalf. No, I probably have to do a little more before that happens. Anyway. What a silly province to inhabit.
Next week is the MS walk. Must get my feet ready. Going to Beverly -- oh boy! On Friday I sold bonanzas etc. until 1:45. Oy vay. One more to go.
All the King's Men (Tom Cochrane)
Shut your eyes my darling there's nothing you can say
the man in the moon won't fall on you
he doesn't live there anyway
you don't have to be a soldier to fight in your private war
let the blood you might see rain down on me
you don't have to fight no more
there's nothing you can say
there's nothing you can send
there's nothing that can change the facts
not all the king's men
you'll ride upon the stallion
i'll ride upon your mare
we'll ride so far ride so hard
far away from here
when we look back upon them
it all will become so clear
the gates will open up for us
we won't have no more fears
there's nothing you can say
there's nothing you can send
there's nothing that can change the facts
not all the king's men
look away look away
you might be tired and troubled but not today
when they come down upon you
I won't let them get anything on you
and I'll be there for you, May
"Oh no they won't said I!"
look away look away
you might be tired and troubled but not today
when they come down upon you
I won't let them get anything on you
and we'll dance away all those fears and troubles
look away
we both were motherless children
they sent us separate ways
the family you'd seen beat down on you
mine it was okay
I've come to take you back, May
save you from this fate
they won't have any more chances
to treat you this way
there's nothing you can say
there's nothing you can send
there's nothing that can change all that
not all the king's men
look away look away
you might be tired and troubled but not today
when they come down upon you
I won't let them get anything on you
and we'll dream away all those fears and troubles
look away.
Hey you! Yes, you. You -- I'm talking to you!
Tonight I like: Amarige. The other side of the tracks. La belle et la bête. John Prine. A grey sweater. Wolves. Small spaces. Only always I.
Tonight I dislike: Coty, for discontinuing my favourite perfume. Cleaning house. Spam. Frost in May. The idea that corned beef comes in a can. Stop signs. The four o'clock news.
... as the wind caresses the sand...
Zowie! Zoiks! Leslie (which doesn't rhyme with essence)
Monday, May 05, 2003
Tonight is my last night of freedom until the end of June. I should be enjoying it inordinately but am not. Still too stressed from the last few weeks. Very very very tired. Could sleep through the whole day and not notice. In fact, tried that today. But guilt kept waking me up.
Everyone should get a blog. I regret that so many people write in their blogs with an awkwardly sly sense of performativity. We all recognize that these are sculpted thoughts. It should not be necessary, therefore, to point metadiscursively to the fact that the writing is a construction. BLAH BLAH BLAH!
I am thinking an awful lot about stealing my grandmother's ashes. Despite that I have deeply unresolved feelings about the woman, feelings that hover somewhere close to hatred, I still find quite upsetting the idea that her final wishes were not honoured. My family of course thinks I'm crazy and will not assist me. Which is fine. If I need help, I know where to find it. And the element of surprise may work to my advantage anyway. I'll be wearing the black pajamas.
... you know I've always been a dreamer, and it's so hard to change ...
Tonight I like: Tom Robbins. Snowflakes. Windows for being the twisted, insidious operating system it is. Michael des Barres and Pamela Knight singing 'Obsession'. A puppy falling all over himself. Violas. Pizza flyers because. Hush hush.
Tonight I dislike: Lyle Oberg (that verb perhaps insufficiently emphatic for my purposes). Pits in packaged dates. Laziness. The destructive force of group mentality. Conformity. My bangs. Washing dishes.
...early in the morning .. .late in the evening...
Resting in the nature of the essence: laVermeer
Everyone should get a blog. I regret that so many people write in their blogs with an awkwardly sly sense of performativity. We all recognize that these are sculpted thoughts. It should not be necessary, therefore, to point metadiscursively to the fact that the writing is a construction. BLAH BLAH BLAH!
I am thinking an awful lot about stealing my grandmother's ashes. Despite that I have deeply unresolved feelings about the woman, feelings that hover somewhere close to hatred, I still find quite upsetting the idea that her final wishes were not honoured. My family of course thinks I'm crazy and will not assist me. Which is fine. If I need help, I know where to find it. And the element of surprise may work to my advantage anyway. I'll be wearing the black pajamas.
... you know I've always been a dreamer, and it's so hard to change ...
Tonight I like: Tom Robbins. Snowflakes. Windows for being the twisted, insidious operating system it is. Michael des Barres and Pamela Knight singing 'Obsession'. A puppy falling all over himself. Violas. Pizza flyers because. Hush hush.
Tonight I dislike: Lyle Oberg (that verb perhaps insufficiently emphatic for my purposes). Pits in packaged dates. Laziness. The destructive force of group mentality. Conformity. My bangs. Washing dishes.
...early in the morning .. .late in the evening...
Resting in the nature of the essence: laVermeer
Sunday, May 04, 2003
Hmph!
Not too much to report, other than we've been spending money like most people drink coffee. Birthdays plus spring plus IKEA -- bad combination in one week. And now I'm practically unemployed! : ) But on the bright side we found perfect chairs for the dinner table, and with a lacey cloth the table looks SO elegant. We could fool a lot of people -- if that was the only part of the house they saw. I bought two new books: _Oryx and Crake_ by Margaret Atwood and _Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates_ by Tom Robbins. Yay! Finished _Summerland_ this morning -- wonderful. I should probably read the other YA books I bought before starting the new fave novels but ... So little time, so many books!
Right now I am baking date squares (or matrimonial cake, if you prefer). The house smells delicious. I am trying to get well centred before everything spins up again. The last two months were rather extraordinary. Probably next year won't be quite as demanding. Then again, maybe I should look at the tentative schedule before saying that.
Bingos to work and books to edit and papers to write and books to write and appointments to attend and gardening to accomplish. I wish the weather would warm up! I want to be much more diligent about eating vegetables this year -- especially salad. And fruit. Soon we'll plant blueberry shrubs. And maybe a new cherry shrub. And some more raspberries. Too bad blackberries won't survive the winter here. Maybe in the garage?
Maybe tomorrow I'll sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep. Just can't seem to catch up. Finally went to the new Save-On Foods -- definitely a let-down. So they're building one here, too. I hope it's like the one in the Highlands or else I won't bother darkening the doors. Looking at plant material at discount retailers always makes me snicker. Why bother? Meanwhile, the neighbours at #3 sold their house for approximately $279K. They think this bodes well for us -- ??? Oh well. Gather ye easter creme eggs while ye may.
xx les xx
PS: Happy 30th Birthday, Stephen!
Not too much to report, other than we've been spending money like most people drink coffee. Birthdays plus spring plus IKEA -- bad combination in one week. And now I'm practically unemployed! : ) But on the bright side we found perfect chairs for the dinner table, and with a lacey cloth the table looks SO elegant. We could fool a lot of people -- if that was the only part of the house they saw. I bought two new books: _Oryx and Crake_ by Margaret Atwood and _Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates_ by Tom Robbins. Yay! Finished _Summerland_ this morning -- wonderful. I should probably read the other YA books I bought before starting the new fave novels but ... So little time, so many books!
Right now I am baking date squares (or matrimonial cake, if you prefer). The house smells delicious. I am trying to get well centred before everything spins up again. The last two months were rather extraordinary. Probably next year won't be quite as demanding. Then again, maybe I should look at the tentative schedule before saying that.
Bingos to work and books to edit and papers to write and books to write and appointments to attend and gardening to accomplish. I wish the weather would warm up! I want to be much more diligent about eating vegetables this year -- especially salad. And fruit. Soon we'll plant blueberry shrubs. And maybe a new cherry shrub. And some more raspberries. Too bad blackberries won't survive the winter here. Maybe in the garage?
Maybe tomorrow I'll sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep. Just can't seem to catch up. Finally went to the new Save-On Foods -- definitely a let-down. So they're building one here, too. I hope it's like the one in the Highlands or else I won't bother darkening the doors. Looking at plant material at discount retailers always makes me snicker. Why bother? Meanwhile, the neighbours at #3 sold their house for approximately $279K. They think this bodes well for us -- ??? Oh well. Gather ye easter creme eggs while ye may.
xx les xx
PS: Happy 30th Birthday, Stephen!
Thursday, May 01, 2003
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