A splendidly anxious day at the Rare Books archive today.

I am thinking of doing one of those naming gestures people do on park benches on a generic chair in that room, I have such moments in there. That being the little plaque rather than pencil engraving.

V. curious to see the stopover during the 1980’s in the labour history archives … and a fairly blank street since.

Increasingly I wonder what literary criticism will evolve into. It seems the longer form essay has some oxygen left in it, but the shorter form review, customarily found, though in a much decreased quantity and breadth in newspapers, seems out of puff. Several I have read lately where so deeply uninspired it seems the requirement that a piece of criticism be an engaging piece of writing in its own right (aside from that which it refers to) has gone out the window.

If the writers of reviews are stumbling in the quest to arrive on the page effectively, it made me question how might more immediacy and pulse be possible? The idea that came to me was that of a multi media format. The writer could engage multiple digital platforms. An interloping style review that discusses the work, but draws in other reference points, immediate, vivid and visible to the reader. Something has to evolve, no? Inter relation? Inter essays? A review that becomes more like a tube map to other essays on ideas or what-have-you?

No bingo II & III

All day I have been trying to find out some information about leads and projectors and many, many hours later I am none the wiser. It could require three possible leads. Hmm this is the plug n play age, but it’s not. We’re also swimming in information until you’re looking for something and suddenly search terms are crucial.

We also have instant communication, that’s not so instant.

I am trying to recall how we found out things before we had all this. I guess we phoned somebody up. Or there was only one kind of plug to worry about.

On Saturday I was at the library and desperate for the title of a journal. Google via the librarian produced no useful information and we were flummoxed. Finally I had to search my old sent email box and eh voila there it was.  I had written to someone asking about the journal and they had not replied!

Well whatever Roberto Luongo may be experiencing I sincerely regret the double shot of wheat grass an hour ago.

Presently I am thinking thoughts about Roger Federer.

Had a lovely chat with an Ethiopian woman walking up the hill (from the unfortunate wheat grass infusion) she told me all would be well because she’d prayed for Luongo. She declared to the traffic that he wasn’t support by his players during that other match. As she left she repeated I prayed for him. V moving. Never mind the goals, he’s a lucky man to have this woman’s prayers and sympathy.

If that wheat grass keeps me from the tumbling mats tonight I shall lose all faith in the power of greens. Gurgle, gurgle, you need the stomach of a bovine to digest it.

Today some funny things:

A handle fell off my cup.

I had to bandage my arm. (unrelated)

I walked along the street carrying an open box of salt and the Prime Minister’s radio address from January 5th, 1935. (Would that be Bennett?).

I salted the garden to repel the ballooning & polyamorous community of slugs and forgot I had not watered it.

I read part of a book about neuroscience and the brain and found it boring. This is a first. I never find the brain boring.

Today was the first time I looked forward to a day where I do not have to think about 1935. I’ve decided next Tuesday I will absolutely not think about 1935.

Tensing with G.

To read Gertrude Stein only for tense is a funny thing to do, for you see what’s in her, on her and at her. Go and do it. And now. And then.

To have read Gertrude Stein only for tense was a funny thing to do, for I see what’s in her, on her, at her. Gone and have done it. And now. And then.

To read Gertrude Stein only for tense was a funny thing to do for I saw what’s in her, on her and was at her. And is beyond. And was beyond in the beyond. And would be and could be and can be.

Rereading the Riot Act II Performance Art Cabaret June 15, 2011 @ Waldorf Hotel

Rereading the Riot Act II Performance Art Cabaret

I had never previously been alerted to the high population of canoes that inhabit Vancouver and the narrow spots they’re housed in, to note them you need to be walking an alley route.

Tonight on the way home from a lovely dinner (arugula salad from their garden yum, yum, chicken biryani, yumnation) with friends, we enjoyed a cosy walk, mainly through the alleys since one of us was on a skateboard. I was salivating over the odd poly-veggie-house and (gasp) glass greenhouses. The vegetable gardens are firmly installed! At one point my son asked me to tell him a story, it reminded me of the many years where, carless, we walked and walked and walked sometimes 30 blocks(!) and I would tell him stories to keep him moving. Recently we began walking again, it’s a grand way to enjoy a pause and process the old thoughts and tell jokes together and examine the world. Tho’ I must admit I also love to sit in a stationary car when it’s raining and exchange funny stories.

A wonderful gloomy light has just rolled in on us. (around 9.31am) turning the world into a bit of a mixing bowl. The comfort of winter in June! I put on my rust coloured shawl (indoors) to celebrate it.  I love the diversity in the light lately, this is one advantage of our up and down weather pattern.

What’s a sealed bid? Isn’t that an unfortunate turn of phrase given the goods?

More than 25 years have passed since casket grave space was available from Mountain View Cemetery. A process within provincial legislation has enabled the cemetery to acquire a limited number of casket graves for resale. These graves are vacant and available for immediate use. This is a unique and limited opportunity to secure a place in Vancouver’s only cemetery