Showing posts with label Word On The Street. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Word On The Street. Show all posts

Monday, September 23, 2013

Words Fallsy Downsies in 1982

Word On The Street was FANTASTIC!  What a gorgeous day I had wandering around the Halifax waterfront, mingling with gentle souls, drinking coffee, fondling and buying books, enjoying everything literary.  I also took in two dazzling author readings by Halifax’s Stephanie Domet and the infallible Jian Ghomeshi .


Stephanie Domet engaged us with an animated reading from her impressive and forthcoming novel “Fallsy Downsies”.  I am currently reading her first novel entitled “Homing” and I am deeply in love with her writing style and her storytelling skills.  She has a fresh, vibrant voice and I admire her passion for her craft.  I’ve been reading her work for years, when she wrote for The Coast and am enjoying her creative writing.  It is evident from her characters, her story structure and themes that she pays careful attention and applies a great deal of love to the pressure of her pen.  She will be launching “Fallsy Downsies” on October 23rd at 6:30pm at The Carleton, I look forward to buying a copy and having the chance to say hello.


Stephanie also had the pleasure of introducing Jian Ghomeshi who was this year’s headliner in the CBC More Than Words tent, set to read from his chart topping, recently released in trade paperback, creative non-fiction effort called “1982”.  I finished reading it on Friday so I would be primed for this engagement and it made his reading that much more compelling.

“1982” is a heartfelt account of an Iranian-Canadian teen, obsessed with Bowie, in love with an older girl, a music obsessed New Waver coming of age in the 1980s.  The universal themes of the book are noted as the triumphs of outsiders and a love for music.  What kid didn’t feel like they totally didn’t fit in in high school?  What kid didn’t fall in love with someone they thought was cool and perhaps out of their league?   I identified with some of the emotions and insecurities he shared but most of all I shared his passion for music.  In the book he talks about how when he was a kid, to go and buy music was such a labor of love.  These days, when you like a song, you can click a button and it is yours.  In the 80s, it was literally a pilgrimage.  He describes the long journeys to acquire a record and that story choked me up because I saw myself in it, climbing on a bus in Eastern Passage to make my way to Barrington Street to Sam The Record Man.  Entering the store was just like heaven, multiple floors worth.  If you wanted music then, you had no choice but to travel for it.  And believe me; you had to love what you were in pursuit for to make that trip.  Just like Jian and his pal, I would buy my record, get back on the bus, devour the liner notes and memorize every last inch of the artwork before I even got back to my stereo to listen.  When he talked about this portion of the book yesterday, I filled up again, with nostalgia, with gratitude that I was fortunate enough to live at a time when music was exciting and sacred and sad for the kids that came up after me who will never understand the impending joy of such a jaunt.


Jian Ghomeshi is described as polite and inclusive as an interviewer but the same can be said for his presenting style.  He spoke to an ardent audience yesterday, enjoying a harmonious exchange inspiring a great deal of laughter, introspection and an all-around feel-good atmosphere.  Jian is dedicated to his work, a proud Canadian and a humanist through and through.  He is also six times more beautiful in person than he is on TV.  He lifted hearts yesterday, tickled funny bones and made everyone’s day he came in contact with.  Not a bad day’s work, eh?  I absentmindedly left my copy of the book on my nightstand so I had him sign the back cover of my writing book instead, the book I bought for myself at the Leonard Cohen show.  I apologized for forgetting but thought since it was the year of encountering all of my favorite Canadians, it seemed fitting to have him sign something Cohen.  I also expressed to him the same as I did here, about how that passage of his book moved me to tears thinking about my former self.  It seemed to touch him but I am sure he hears that often and it must feel good to know he has put something into the world that isn’t only universal but emotionally monumental to like-minded people like me.

(You can see the top of my head!)

It was a perfect day.  I hated for it to end but the feeling of contentment and peace lingers. 

On the writing front, I’m knee deep into ‘Too Much To Contain’.  I took myself out for a bit of an artist date on Saturday and worked out some details and wrote them out later that night in my writing room complete with the music that I need to fuel the difficult range of emotions required.  That is still proving to be a challenge for me.  My heart tends to be too big and soft to conjure acts of violence on the page.  I am trying.
                             
I am back to the grind today, working for the man.  The weekend already feels like it is a million miles away but my heart is still full.  I love that feeling.

In propinquity,
Nic



Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Minority Myself


Minority Myself

a minority myself

I encountered
a poet
who mattered

with a body of
uncompromised
writing

images juxtaposed
lovely and risky
free of literary despair

a minority myself

I long to make

comparable
statements

be shackled by the
sheen of relevance

write words
                plentiful
                inimical
                astute
                sparse
                affecting
                earnest
to devastate
to altercate
to overwhelm
to equivocate
to enunciate
to augment

a minority myself

I swing for the fences
scrawling
what happens

with a temperate pen
with an authorial ego
with an anorexic heart

for me first
then for you

convinced I belong with
my contemporaries
and in your conscious

**

Day two where I should be fully focused on writing but I picked up a bit of a bug or something and ended up in bed at 8:30pm last night.  I have Zumba class tonight so I am making every effort to settle my stomach and drum up some energy.  I don't like to miss it, the session only started last week and I paid for it.  I am hoping after my soup and some something from a kettle I'll feel more like myself.  The goal is to make it through the work day and Zumba.  Fingers crossed.

Along with my story scribbles and looking forward to Word On the Street this coming weekend, I penned the above poem.  A wee Tuesday offering.  Is it Friday yet?

In propinquity,
Nic

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Where The Possibilities of Humiliation & Failure are Ample

Where The Possibilities of Humiliation & Failure are Ample

it is a dangerous arena, love
an unruly action, to love
a reverie to submit to, to be loved

you sing for them, your lovers
we read to them, our paramours
they trounce us, the Muses

in love’s amphitheater
a procession to up-end all illusions
pageantry of strange beauties

to prepare you for the firing squad
to show you how to dodge the bullets
to set you up to face heart starvation

it is a dangerous arena, love
it is a precarious quandary, love
it is unwarranted mischief, love

love

the place where the promise of
humiliation and failure are ample

exposed hearts be wary, take heed
eager accomplices, become ensnared

in the madness, to endure forever

**

Something more inspired by the one and only Leonard Cohen.  The title of this poem is a direct quote from the interview he did with Jian Ghomeshi.  I stumbled onto it after learning Ghomeshi will be a headliner for this year’s Word On The Street book and magazine fair, reading from his critically acclaimed book, 1982 (which I STILL need a copy of but will wait until August 6th for the trade paperback edition to come out).  Excited by the news and penciling the date in my calendar so I don’t miss it, I browsed Jian’s website and found the interview.  Mid-way through I started writing this little poem, another little writing exercise to help keep my head above water.  I’m slowly moving back into my prose.  I wrote a little more on ‘Large-Hearted’ yesterday.  I wasn’t feeling especially well in the afternoon and started to daydream about being home, curled up and resting when my lonely brain stumbled on a revelation for the story.  It came as a wee flash so I did the responsible thing; I opened up the document and started typing despite feeling light-headed and queasy.  I was still at my work desk so I was required to be lucid and awake, keeping busy was the best way to distract myself from the yuck.  I’m pretty sure that I have completed the framework of the story and found its ending but I now have the task of fleshing it out and editing before it can be shared.   Watch this space.  In the meantime, the poetry is free-flowing.  I’ve built up a bit of a reserve now.  Most of them still need a bit of work and will be blogged shortly.

I’m still not feeling one hundred percent myself today and it’s raining like a bitch outside, it’s been wet all week in fact and there’s no sign of sun until at least Sunday if we’re lucky.  This summer’s weather has been undesirable.  Between week long stretches of nothing but rain that morph into record-breaking heatwave-ish days, it’s been fairly uncomfortable.  When it rains, outdoor activities are limited and when it’s so hot and humid that you can’t breathe, outdoor activities are also limited.  I long for a nice stretch of warm, true summer weather, sunshine, a warm breeze and enjoying it, outdoors.  Is that too much to ask for?  If any of you have an in with Mother Nature, can you see what you can do about my request?  I’d be most grateful.

Perhaps I’ll peek more at ‘Large-Hearted’ after this blog is complete, since it’s fairly quiet on the work front.  You watch, I say that now but as soon as I turn to my pages, it’ll get bonkers busy.  Murphy’s Law.

Enjoy your day.  Pay a kindness forward.

In propinquity,
Nic