…of classes today is solemnly being covered up, mounded into a huge hill of snow, and snow, and more snow. The sky is building a quinzee of the earth. I must run out and stake an opening, mark the spot where I’ll sit with a few other writers (at least those that know how to dig in and dig out) and talk about the whether of writing, the cold reality of it, all the while warming the core of our crusted conversations with the sound of it.

…is the good in a hangover? Yes, I understand the concept of payback, but in reality, I question why it needs to be so. I’m typing very quietly as I’ve a bit of a headache–although, I had one last night too, so it may not be as self-induced as I thought(or pathetically hope). The writing was on my arm this morning regardless–don’t ask.

I’m recovering from a night of frolicking after the Saskatchewan Book Awards Gala. I was pleased to see some of my favorite people win awards: Dan Tysdal, Michael Trussler, Gail Bowen (won reader’s choice), and Martine Noel-Maw. Congrats to all the winners. It was a great event, my sixth gala in a row. I’m getting to be a staple at the event.

…is the good in a hangover? Yes, I understand the concept of payback, but in reality, I question why it needs to be so. I’m typing very quietly as I’ve a bit of a headache–although, I had one last night too, so it may not be as self-induced as I thought(or pathetically hope). The writing was on my arm this morning regardless–don’t ask.

I’m recovering from a night of frolicking after the Saskatchewan Book Awards Gala. I was pleased to see some of my favorite people win awards: Dan Tysdal, Michael Trussler Gail Bowen (won reader’s choice), and Martine Noel-Maw. Congrats to all the winners. It was a great event, my sixth gala in a row. I’m getting to be a staple at the event.

…hair please step forward. Is it me? Or is it you? Look alikes are everywhere these days. Even in London, England. It’s not often I see someone with the same hair as me, the same shades, a similar curl. It makes me feel less lonely somehow. Thanks Annette for the photo.

…me out reading on AuthorsAloud. The coolest site ever!

…reading from my wonderful first book.

Thanks Trevor Cole for the great opportunity.

… I’ve been furiously writing essays–the hardest one on Hannah Arendt is to be last–I’ve also been furiously procrastinating. This morning, while procrastinating, I found a page of first lines from new novels.

So to amuse myself I dug up my recent acquisitions and here is a list of first lines:

“Here’s a memory.” How to be Alone by Jonathan Franzen. Essays. Harper Canada (2003).

“Powwow 1/2 mile.” Backwater Mystic Blues by Lloyd Ratzlaff. Thistledown Press (2006).

“In an upstairs room on Temperance Street, Amber dragged a box out of her closet and through her bedroom, bumped it over the edge of the carpet and pulled it across the kitchen tiles.” The Art of Salvage by Leona Theis. Coteau (2006).

“July 13, 1999” Between Mountains by Maggie Helwig. Knopf Canada (2004).

“Supposing truth to be a woman–what? is the suspicion not well founded that all philosophers, when they have been dogmatists, have had little understanding of women?” Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche Penguin (1973, 2003)

…is someone I’ve been thinking about far too much these days. I’ve been studying line by line, The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot and wondering about romantic love. I’ve thought of Ophelia the most, since a favorite teacher of mine once dubbed me with the nickname, and, of course, I could never quite figure out if it was the hair that made her do so, or if there something tragic about my personality.

Either way, I’ve been pondering the role of the tragic virgin, in lieu of a poem I’d written awhile ago, and wondering how the tragedy of Ophelia might otherwise be brought to life, not as the perceived victim, the romantic who throws away her life for her love, but as someone empowered. Thus, I’ve been drifting on the water, trying to bring meaning and life to the lifeless.

…arrived today–a wonderful journal that I will take with me to Vienna and surrounding area, a box of English Breakfast tea, from Harrod’s no less, and this wonderful postcard of Andrew Motion the poet laureate of England (it’s a picture of a carved lime portrait by Jilly Sutton).