…Yes. It’s true. I handed in the thesis. I’m feeling lightheaded. It wasn’t quite complete–there are five more pages of introduction to pen away, then revise, but as I’m fond of saying, how hard can it be?
That said, I’m preparing for Mayday. You’ll find all the info you need on the site, including what I hope to do, though I haven’t quite got my head wrapped around where to start my project. I’m sure something will hit me soon. Maybe snow in the eye.
And, to add to the dirt I am shovelling at you, I thought I would give you taste of the summer Sage Hill Anniversary (come to my salon tomorrow and you’ll find out more, or less about the experience), but I thought I would share some Richard Ford stories with you. Pare them down into one post. Make you want to join us in our celebrations by enticing you with Ford. Did I mention Richard Ford is coming to town? That’s realism.
..in the skies, out the window, and more precisely, more Grey Gardens. I posted about the original documentary a few years ago and I understand it is an upcoming HBO movie. I’m of mixed feelings about seeing it (if I ever do get to). There was something so compelling about the original mother and daughter duo, that I don’t think I want to see actors playing their roles, however good the acting. I realise most art is like that, and that I usually don’t tire of reading interesting renditions of previously written material, and in fact, for the Mayday project, I’m thinking of reworking something old into something new. Maybe I’ll suck it up and watch the movie if I get the chance, but then again, I’m prone to stubborness, so maybe I won’t.
On another note, two bags of books from the book sale later, I’m wondering about the realities of getting books signed. I’ve just purchased, very cheaply, many poetry books penned to the same person, G. B. and not only am I left wondering what happend to G. B. that he’s given up his collection (there were more than a few decent poetry books (all Saskatchewan authors, and more than one book by the same author)) but who he was and why/how did he collect these books. Would he be pleased I’ve recovered these? Or did he simply cull his collection–out with the old, in with the new? What good is being a collector, having the books signed to yourself, if they only get tossed in a bin at a second hand sale later down the reading road? I’d like to think I’m doing some service recovering some of these, but what will I do with all these books, and the ones that I collect, signed to me, that are worth nothing to the people I leave behind?
…is in the basement, the roast is in the oven, the fan is on, the intro is almost three pages long, the thesis is almost done, the colony applications are flying in, the snow has nearly melted, the birds have all returned, the garden is muddy, the mall is still only a block away, and the used books are adorning the shelves, all ready to grace the eager hands of those, like me, that want to take them home from the great annual Regina Symphony Book Sale, which starts tomorrow. Woot!! (Where will I put more books??)
… “Polis is this?” Sometimes I get frustrated at the clicking of time, my disregard to the details, and oh, say for instance the opportunity to watch tv (gasp!) on the night there might actually be something worth watching, such as a film about Charles Olson, because, well, who really has time to read the tv listings, or other such drivel. So tonight I found out that last night I missed the Olson special on PBS and after a brief moment of fluid cursing, I decided to look up the PBS stations, on the internet, because that’s where I was, and found that it would be on again on April 24, but I’m often impatient, and know that something will rear it’s monstrous head that will keep me from watching tv on that date. But then again, sometimes, if I sit back, relax and let whatever floats about the universe to settle, I’ll find things just where they should be. Like tonight. Polis is This: Charles Olson and the Persistence of Place.