Neuro New Year
Good news, Radio 4 history of the brain radio series: 10 programmes. Nice one! More please! Until then listen here
Collage
We did some photography this weekend, along with help from our friend Katrina. I liked how in this photo my head almost seems collaged into the picture. The light in that corner of the studio was quite something. This shot was taken unbeknownst to me. (photo credit: Jeremy Isao Speier)
Mary Rafferty
Very sad news today about Mary Rafferty’s death. A huge loss to truth and journalism and determination.
And made all the sadder by the recent death of Caroline Walsh. (RIP)
Q&Q Spring Preview 2012
Quill and Quire included my novel Malarky in their Spring Preview 2012 article today :
Biblioasis is comparing Irish-Canadian writer Anakana Schofield’s debut novel, Malarky ($19.95 pa., April), to Brecht’s Mother Courage and Beckett’s Endgame. When Philomena discovers her son canoodling with another man and is informed of her husband’s (possibly invented) indiscretions, she embarks on a journey of discovery that involves grief, resilience, and something like madness.
Malarky will be published in March, the publication date has been brought forward a tad.
I am also looking forward to Anne Fleming’s short fiction collection, Marie-Claire Blais novel (Mai at the Predator’s Ball), Teresa McWhirter’s stories and Tim Bowling’s unscrupulous salmon canners practices and numerous others books this year.
The clock on my computer stopped working today at precisely 3.38pm. Since that minute it has been 3.38pm each time I looked at it.
It sometimes catches my eye as I have fed hundreds of pages into my scanner.
Left hand picks up page on left hand side of the table and swings it across. My right hand lifts the scanner lid and left removes one sheet and drops the next one in. Perhaps the right hand too is involved with the placement.
On and on this movement — 169 of them thus far — has marked and kept it’s own time.
I am listening to a Michel Foucault lecture (in English) as I undertake this task. His accent is remarkably clear and punctuated. It reminds me a bit of a melodious lawnmower. I have been listening more to his sounds and navigation of sound that I am not sure I have much clue what he’s talking about and will have to listen to it over again. (P176 has just arrived in the scanner )
The weather is also locked into a repetitive event. It rains! and rains! Tho’ right now (P179) it is not raining and there is no wind at all. The trees are absolutely still.
Malarky! Most Anticipated!
Thank you to Canadian Bookshelf who have selected my novel Malarky (due out in March) as one of the most anticipated titles of the season.
Up the Islensku cardigan
Magnificent Icelandic cardigan patterns here.
You might need to spake Icelandic knitting terms to fathom them.
Enter the boot
The most incredible set of boots have entered my life.
They arrived today in a box from England and were purchased by a dear friend here as a surprise.
They are the Mick Jagger/Marc Bolan of short women’s boots. Seriously rock star boots.
I may have to build a shrine for them to live in when they are not on my feet.
This is the only time in my life that a pair of boots have rung my doorbell.
Grey & greyer
The rain how she has tumbled latter days.
Yesterday we went for an urban rain wander and long boarding mission.
The light was incredible in its own way. Like a set of steamed up fog lamps. I loved the mixture of grey and greyer by the water. I was startled there was no wind whatsoever. Usually it’s the bass to the rain’s treble.
People out in the rain intentionally also seem to be possessed of more humour and repartee.
*
If you’re rightly sleeping I can report a barrage of sirens over the past quarter of an hour and surprsingly no current rainfall. This should be noted in the provincial records as a fifteen minute pause in the drip. I am certain it will recommence any second. The trees are glistening still from the days of deluge.
Happy New Year to all.
I am in a snowy spot where it is -3 and am anthropologically taking in and processing ski-culture. This non-skier has her head down working, but my eyes are bright at the sight of these lovely trees with their snowy sleeves all the way down their bodies.
I am not au fait with the traffic rules between pedestrians and skiers on the hill (or the brief path they share). The snowboards growl out a warning as they arrive, but they seem to land on their arses more frequently than their poled companions.
The weather gets top billing in ski-land. This is pleasing.
I hope 2012 will be full of Malarky.