September 21, 2010
The 4 decade mystery of the act of swimming may come down to the legs. I thought it was all in the lungs, but there was much hiccuping on the legs in this evening’s lesson. I am beset with a deep desire not to get into the pool as soon as the lesson begins. I actively want to just run away. I’ve decided to do everything they tell me in this lesson in the hope that I never have to another set of lessons. Usually I have my own menu and refuse to do 40 per cent of the instruction.
Old me:
Get in the dive tank.
No thanks.
Get in the dive tank.
No thanks. You get in it. I’ll watch.
Get in the dive tank.
Thanks v much, but I am quite happy here on the stairs.
New me
I have not yet been requested to get in the dive tank.
Long may it stay that way.
If I am asked to get in, I’ll ask for a set of shoulders to stand on.
**
My son tonight remarked isn’t it strange these really sporty kids who end up with the least sporty parents?
I couldn’t quite fathom his drift til it was clear he was talking bout himself and moi!
Wha! Who! Wha! says I but I do gymnastics.
“its not a sport” he says firmly and uses badminton as an example of a much more demanding sport before a lunar landing on the word Hockey. Hockey he says triumphant. Case closed.
September 21, 2010
Saturday morning I had been up to the lads in the garage to talk car and had to head below the garage to wait out the time for lads to fix car with a stack of work.
This impending (or is it upon us) winter season will be a reclusive one by my note in the change of it. And by the matter of a great mountain of reading I must undertake.
I had heard Eileen Myles was reading along with Lisa Robertson at Emily Carr that day and had heard of Eileen through someone — who, who, who, who are you? — was it Lora? last year telling me to read her essays with Iceland in the title. I’d tried and failed to find them in the leabharlann and here would be a certain chance to get them. When I arrived there, there the essays were but beside them — a novel — and up from them an even more curious single copy of an earlier novel. I had to leave the essays behind and take on the two novels once I’d gandered them.
Lisa Robertson read from her new book of poetry with the words R’s Boat in the title. She’s much livelier and more engaging when she reads her poems than when talking on art and macademia. I spent some time last winter reading her books out in the library and for some reason I associate her work with mapping and walking and I may be wrong because I am forgetful these days. And the weather. And dress making! Because last year she did talk about sewing or cloth I thought or was that Maxine?
And then there was Eileen reading from the novel Inferno. Ritalin to our West Coast slumber ! But for me the physicalizing of the text into the voice and body and back. You can hear how it got on the page and she’s giving it right back at ya! This aint-no-abacus-bead-counting-calculation ! It’s auditory absoluting!
I suppose you could conclude I was at home in it. I’ve had enough of this restraint, and prose prune clipping, and middle management telling us what the reader can and cannot handle. We don’t live inside tupperware. I don’t want to read inside it.
Reading those Juan Butler books to which I must return — I had to wonder Christ how or when did everything get turned down?
100 years later, the episodic prompts questions on pacing and narrative? Er? While we are at it let us straighten every horse track into lines and grids.
September 20, 2010
CHAOS
I’m thrilled to be performing mischief with performance artist Lori Weidenhammer, this week, at Open Space in Victoria, as part of Chaos, along with four women performance artists from Belfast and Iraq.
This week I will be finding and uploading links to the artists work: Sinéad O’Donnell (Belfast) pictured, Sandra Johnston (Belfast), Pauline Cummins (Dublin), Poshya Kakl (Iraq). I will also be posting from Victoria as the performances and artist talks and events unroll.
To read more about Chaos click here
Thanks to Lori for inviting me to collaborate with her. Thanks also to Phoenix Gymnastics and Jeremy for video footage and Peter for photos.
September 20, 2010
When the night is short, the day is dittery dithery too.
There was a moment today in an alley, my attention diverted to a man toppling from a unicycle, when I nearly dipped into my own metal led calamity.
My eyes, later on, could not find the letter b (B) on my phone, which is coincidental because I was rereading a book with the word Be significantly in the title at 3am when by rights I should have been asleep.
When are we finally going to organize a charter/manifesto on insomnia?
I propose:
Article 1.
24 hour swimming pools open for those who cannot sleep.
Article 2.
A special hat with cushioned ears for no explainable purpose whatsoever.
Article 3.
Coming soon in the comments section.
September 19, 2010
Lines, lines, lines, lines.
A day of them.
***
Outside it rains. Does it ever rain inside you may ask. No. But it’s my ear whose talking to you.
My ear is no happier than the lungs with the swimming arrangement.
I have switched the class to Monday, given I slept through Thursday.
Wait now til we see will this satisfy the pair of them.