Boredom might be the key phrase for yesterday (sorry this has nothing to do with the election). First I blanked my brain through a particularly unstimulating Bronte sister lecture involving literary and non-literary research methods–sounds like fun, eh?–and, in particular, a lengthy discussion on the conception-to-publication-of “The Prisoner–A Fragment“. (This makes me curious as to the reception of poetry from our generation, say 150-200 years from now. What will be remembered, written about it, who will be included/excluded, what kind of poetry will endure?)

From there I was happy go to film class and I moved on to the wildly stimulating(tongue in cheek) movie L’Avventura. Not that it was a bad film, it is part of the modernist film movement arising in the 50-60’s, and even though some of it was engaging, much of it was slow and pointless (or seemingly so). The film plays with the audience through the narrative, incorporates a more artistic cinematography, and uses the camera differently to include the audience as a part of the film. In particular, the camera initally appeared to be excluding the audience from seeing the characters faces; however, this gave me the impression I was in the film, standing right behind the characters, even to the point where a few times I wanted to physically move the character out of the way so I could see what was happening. Mainly it was full of noise and movement: cars, trains, boats, helicopters, people moving in and out of vehicles, restless people moving mechanically about their lives. The constant movement was a reflection of culture, the desire for something more, the desire to keep ourselves amused. Paradox in a boring film about boredom.

Ok. I know–not a very good likeness, but I had some time on my hands and I thought it might be fun to recreate me through a computer drawing. I might try a few more as this was my first real try, but I’m definitely sending one of these in as my portrait.

…to do when I have a moment is to draw a picture of myself on pause. (That way I am eternally paused in this particular pause because I doubt this state will last much longer). And if I draw one of me, everyone should try to draw themselves–paused or not paused. (Or if you’re B’s cat–draw paws).

While I did get the digital camera I wanted for Christmas, I didn’t get Candace Savage’s Crows (just in case anyone reading this might still want to buy me something. Or not). My adopted state of pause has given me another reason to pause recently as I’ve managed to spy some of the creatures in the city. ( And as odd as this might sound, I say “spy” loosely as crows seem to like to make themselves known to me; they seem to always let me know when they are around, but not in an odd way, just a crow way). I know that most of our crows–we don’t have ravens in this part of the province– retire to more southerly climes for the winter (of course, they are smart birds); however, I’ve seen more of them than I suspected was possible this winter. (If I can, I will try to get a photo of one). There are always rumours of the odd crow sticking around for winter, but I don’t recall seeing as many as I have this winter. I’ve always assumed the snow makes food harder to come by. I’m not sure whether our mild winter has let them to take up a more permanent place in the city, or whether they simply like giving me reason to pause, again and again.

My yard–on pause.

…about much today; spent the day in some dystopic fog. On the plus side, no cars dying on any major streets, no nails–finger or toe– flying off to seek their own unwarped vision, nothing at all really happening, but then maybe the fog is the nothing happening. I watched a movie tonight: Nothing. I tried get another from the library, but am unable, even after I was able to pay my hefty fine today. (I have the natural ability to always be late returning books to the RPL). The movie is not available for request. So, I went in search for something external (somehow that seems like a contradiction) on the net to validate my paused state. Art installations sometimes give me reason to pause. Is it possible to pause an already paused state?

Perhaps there is something contagious or even mythic in boredom, or maybe life is meant to be like this: simply satirical.

Seriously. Strange shit is happening to my body this winter. What does this mean? Do you know how many home remedies I know to cure (and I use that word loosely) eczema? Or dry, brittle nails? But how about toenails that suddenly go missing in the bath? Or what does that say about the water? I decided I needed to write something for it/about it and quickly too, before anything else falls off. (Sorry, it’s still rather–raw).

Annals of the body’s slow decay

1. My skin alters mistakenly
some caged thing tears–
raw hands peel me
in unprocessed patches.

2. Some older bird is dying to rise.

3.

4. Each handful of surface
textures, empty spaces
plumbed between the index
forefinger, little finger, muddled
patterns as someone else’s blue.

5. My feet fail to notice me.

6. Tonight, Mars is falling
redness, inhabits a side
my foot, the left
little toe, and another
small circling planet
marks the right foot.

7.

8.

9. A toenail, the smallest
wing hunches in preparation
soft pulses in sheep’s wool.
The long feathered wait
breathes its own
uncertain moment.

10. The setting is the mind
the right frame–
support that slips in flight
slides from the hold
of the toe, maliciously free.

If you squint closely you can make out me on the right in the top picture. These two pictures are the view from inside the quinzee.

…of Brenda Schmidt’s post I’m feeling nostalgic and saddened to know that this year at colony there may be no opportunity to build a quinzee. Every year Dave Carpenter oversees the building of one by those colonists who wish to partake–and usually everyone does their bit, ferreting snow like lost weasels, but I don’t think Dave is joining us this year at the colony. Last year I remember the weather was unseasonably warm, but that didn’t stop us from building a big pile of snow. I shovelled one afternoon, fighting an ice-cube of creative energy, and fighting with the orange tabby cat who kept throwing herself in the snow at my feet. The cat, if I remember correctly, or at least what my memory of the event allows me to remember, I shovelled up with the snow before tossing it onto the ever increasing pile. The cat seemed to like it. I don’t have any pictures of the outside on disc or on the computer, but I have these few from the inside. I must make one confession though, I’m the claustro-ferret, so actually going into the abyss was liberating, until everyone else wanted in–then I left.

And for the record–or for anyone reading this within the next 24 hours or so–I never saw the word of the day (it says hermitage) until after I posted–this is an after post-edit-post. (Do-do-do-do-do-do-do (that’s the theme music from some old show that gives you goosebumps, or at least it’s supposed to)).

…while working might not be a good thing, but then again maybe it is. I like video formatting, but ultimately, I only listen. Here is Li-Young Lee at Berkeley’s lunch series. “All speech”, he says, “is done with the dying breath.”