February 12, 2006
what I'm thinking and doing § what I'm listening to § what I'm reading
what I'm writing § retrospective: old journal
Friends have adventures, disasters, sadnesses, joys. I have cute new shoes.
Really, this has been my week. Lots of long conversations, one with a friend who got involved in a project with a movie producer, a guy whose name appears in an article on the net involved in some jewel scam mine scam, and an actress who clearly does most of her acting on the casting couch. After telling the complex story about how this came about, she asked what was new with me. Shoes.
Also, meetings. Two Clarion West meetings. One Saturday, one Sunday. Much good work but they ate my weekend. Though part of it involved dim sum with good company, so that was pleasant. And a good reading by Matt Ruff. So it wasn't all work. No, indeed.
Also I am learning eye weirdness. Because I am nearsighted and have been wearing contacts for distance vision for about 10 years, and since now am losing my reading-distance sight due to my advanced old age, I need some kind of bifocal experience. So when I went to my contacts doctor for an eye exam on Tuesday he suggested one option would be to only wear a contact in my dominant eye, and since I can read just fine with my contacts out, wear nothing in the other. He said it could take a couple of weeks to get used to. NO KIDDING.
We'll see if I can get this to work with me. I'm old and my brain is slow to adjust. The uncontact-dressed eye feels like it is working very hard. The world loos odd all the time.
The other options are to wear reading glasses over my contacts. Or change to bifocal glasses. Or spend a lot of time taking contacts out and putting them back in. Or glasses on and off. I'm better friends with my glasses than I was, but I still hate wearing them going up and down stairs.
So, I'm trying this experiment with one shoe off and one shoe on. Or rather contacts. And new shoes.
Chronicles of Sloth:
last week's thinking and doing § next week's thinking and doing
- Email inbox down to 302 messages (from 310 last week, from 380 when I started tracking this, but still way up from my 231 low in late November)
- New novel stands at 41,998 words
- Sent out two batches of poems; two more to go
- One more medical appointment for me to arrange (3 appointments attended, labwork done, 1 additional one next week)
- Clarion West applications up to date
- Artist Trust Grant Due February 24
- NEA Grant Due March 1
- Need to sort through poems to decide on final ones for upcoming possible CD (and need to finish recording
- Succubus booklet to design & lay out for the Feminist Caucus of the League of Canadian Poets
- Canadian (due April 30 but have to do before U.S.) and U.S. Taxes (due April 15)
- Ignored the 2 large stacks of CDs to ready for review
- CD pileup ignored this week (keep/toss/add to ectoguide)
- Tape collection diminished by 2 since last week
- 2.5 friend's novels still waiting to be read & critiqued + one story half critiqued
- Get framed picture of me & Jim & send to Jim's Dad
I don't recall what I listened to this week, except Broadcast's Tender Buttons remains the one CD in the changer in the car that I play over and over and never tire of.
last week's listening § next week's listening
Bailed on Anna Tambour's highly praised Spotted Lily. I just found the characters and their antics less than amusing.
last week's reading § next week's reading
Just the usual writing schedule: Thursday afternoon timed session and Saturday morning coffee shop with Karen, though I am also working on typo/phrasing corrections on Gypsy Davey thanks to co-worker Jan. I really have so many people to be grateful to for reading versions of this book it's almost a communal effort.
last week's writing § next week's writing
1629. July to November
November 3, 1991
The months whisk themselves away. I'm 33 and I lived in Scotland for a month with Christina. It's all a myth now, of course. I've been back at work two months now, back and wasting time with the bb [the bulletin board that I started participating in in 1991 at the same time as I started email] -- and drifting in a way, unfocused because of writing the grants [some applications, I presume], my application for the job at UVic and the syllabus to go with it [a teaching job, which obviously I didn't get], doing the book for Norm Johnston [book design of a history of the college], and the miscellaneous little things. It took me those two months to get out from under. But I'm out now, and need to stop hunkering down under its weight. It's not there -- done, gone. And I did write some poems in Scotland after all. At least I think so as I read them today. Not earth-shattering, but they're something. Something. Words on a page. A small song.
November already. Cold autumn, though summer held as long as it could, a long time. Leaves have turned, are turning. Outside our house ground covered with cedar twigs. Car full of them. Jim cut down the ragged rose today, the one that caught us getting in and of the driver's side of the car. Though it flowered, raggedly, this year.
last week's old journal § next week's old journal
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2031 people have wandered through this week with me