ONE

…of my last leisurely mornings has been exhausted by the incessant beep, beep, beep of large machines rolling up and down my back alley. The city has decided to resurface the lane, while one block over, they still have gravel. ??

And so, here I am lamenting the fact that I read too little of what I was hoping to read for my last four classes in the fall, but not worrying too much–I like a little bit of pressure, in fact, I think I work better with it. My random posting should smooth over and become steady as I avoid and procrastinate the last four classes–did I mention that I’m doing the last four classes? I’ve spent the summer in contemplation of what to do when I’m done the last four classes; I have two weeks in May well-plotted, but what to do after that? What to do, what to do? Another degree? Do I go away? Do I stay?

Time echoes in my house…beep, beep, beep.

Update:

Now the whole house is vibrating, a slight shimmy to the computer screen–is this a sign?

A Quote:

“The pleasure of the sentence is to a high degree cultural. The artifact created by rhetors, grammarians, linguists, teachers, writers, parents–this artifact is mimicked in a more or less ludic manner; we are playing with an exceptional object, whose paradox has been articulated by linguistics: immutably structured and yet infinitely renewable: something like chess.
Unless for some perverts the sentence is a body?” –Roland Barthes from The Pleasure of the Text

SILENCE

…is what I’m pondering, the physical way we attempt to snap the taut line of nothing with a voice, an email, anything to reverberate something that echoes our ear, our mind. According to Flora’s Lexicon (Thanks Ariel for the loan of the book), the white rose expresses the sentiment of silence:

“The god of silence was represented under the form of a young man, with one finger placed on his lips, and holding a white rose in the other hand. We are told that Love gave him the rose to secure his favour. The ancients sculptered a rose over the doors of their festive halls to interdict the guests from repeating anything that was spoken” (180).

THE 3RD ANNUAL GEIST LITERAL LITERARY POSTCARD STORY CONTEST

It has come to my attention that the guidelines for this contest haven’t been posted on the web page yet, so to help get the competition writing, here are the guidelines as copied from the magazine:

Send us a postcard along with a story that relates to the image. The relationship can be as tangential as you like, so long as there is some clear connection to the image or place. Maximum 500 words, fiction or non-fiction.

Type your literal postcard story on standard paper, in at least 11-point type, and attach the postcard with a paper clip (no staples, please). Judging is blind, so do not write your name on the story or the card. Include a cover letter with your name and the story title(s), as well as your address, phone number and email address. Send with a cheque for the entry fee to: Geist Postcard Contest, 200-341 Water St, Vancouver, BC V6B 1B8.

Postmarked no later than Dec. 1, 2006.

Entry fee: 20$ for the first entry (includes 1-yr subscription or subscription extension), 5$ for each additional entry.

Prizes:

1st-$250.00

2nd-$150.00

3rd–$100.00

The 3 winning entries will be published in Geist. Runners-up will receive swell gifts.

BECAUSE

…I can’t figure out how to post pictures here without an url address, the pictures of my great northern adventure have gone to the old blog. I suppose words will have to suffice for this part of the journey.

My trip to Neso Lake was wonderful and filled with relaxation. I was able to get some reading in during the long drive, although there was usually quite a bit of scenery to amuse me, and because of some crickets I was transporting for H’s spider (don’t ask–although may the spider rest in peace) I decided to read Kafka’s “Metamorphosis”.

Brenda and Harvey were wonderful as hosts/guides, and helped provide information on Flin Flon/Creighton. Brenda took me berry picking, and even gave her share of berries to me. Now that’s a real friend! Lucky, lucky me. We will have pie.

Bear stories also filled our ears, although no bears filled our eyes and our last night was somehow disturbed by phantom bears filtering in and out of our sleep; these bears managed to keep my eldest daughter and myself awake.

I think B and H are lucky to be living in such a spectacular location, the trees, the lakes, the birds, and the rock are very impressive. All in all, it was a great trip, and a good time.