DOWN MEXICO WAY

§

The joy of blogging for pleasure is just that. I don’t have to do it if I don’t want to. Or don’t have time to. I know, I know, I could take the time, but I sometimes I’m simply not in the mood to babble on to a largely unknown audience about who-knows-what. As mentioned in my previous post, there was a little computer problem that had to be dealt with, and once that was sorted (thank you, Apple, for the hidden extended warranty that got me a new motherboard, by the way) Christmas was almost upon me and I was late starting a book project and then it was time to do all the last minute things that needed to be done so Ted and I could go away for a couple of months. 

Which is why this is coming to you from Mexico. You know, that Spanish-speaking country south of the United Snakes that is getting all the bad press these days thanks to tourists getting beaten up or murdered. I’m not trying to belittle the people who have suffered attacks of late, but come on people, bad things happen at home, too. Here, we’ve taken local buses, shopped for fruit and veggies at the bodegas, eaten fabulous food at several Mom and Pop curb-side restaurants and we’re starting to understand things like how much the bill is even before the ever-helpful proprietors write down numbers for us. Last year we spent two weeks here and this year the number of tourists whose presence helps to oil the local economy is noticeably down. But we’re here and we’re loving it. 

Down by the crocodiles that live in the mangrove Pedro serves fish tacos and seafood soup from a truck. His fish tacos are 15 pesos—just over a dollar. The drinks come fast and the food arrives, as he puts it, “in a Mexican minute”. It’s a minute worth waiting for. 

Frigate birds and brown pelicans put on a daily show of diving for fish, often quite close to you if you happen to be swimming. 

The water is warm which helps keep the sting rays away. Apparently they like cooler water. We’ve been instructed in the art of the “sting ray shuffle” which will hopefully roust any away from you as you’re walking into the ocean. They like to burrow themselves into the sand and if you step on one, look out! 

Some of you will remember Perogy Cat from previous trip photos. Here, he’s cozying up to a couple of old gringos on the beach.

There appears to be a thriving business in nail decorating here. 

Meanwhile back home, it’s good to know The Harper Un-Government (T.H.U.G.) is busy cleaning up the country. We shall have prisons, pandas and pipe lines. For our sins.

At the end of the day, there are sunsets that set fire to the sky, the sea and the sand.

And now for some poetry news — this is Purple Mountain Poems, remember! My poem, Cake,  in an anthology of love poems that’s being released this week, called The Wild Weathers (Leaf Press is the publisher). And I’m the featured poet in the next issue of The New Orphic Review, which is due out in the next couple of months. Six poems and an essay I wrote about my poetics! 

This link to the Elephant Mountain Review just went live, and I have two poems there.  

Hope you’re all enjoying winter as much as we are. And pushing send!

§

A POST FOR ALL THE DANIELS

§

My old laptop fell ill last week and is currently on life support. Just waiting to see if it's brain dead or if modern medicine in the form of the very able guys over at Digerati Computing in Nelson can revive it enough to at least scoop what's on the hard drive. I'm backed up to about 3 months ago, but as I knew I was getting a new computer around now I decided not to confuse myself by connecting the old one to the new back-up disk. Figured I'd just move everything from the old to the new and then hook up the new one. I really ought to know better by now! Anyway, all I stand to lose is the most recent photos, many of which are already loaded to sites here and there, and about 10K words from when I started NaNoWriMo at the beginning of November, but then fizzled as I was away for ten days and writing just wasn't in the cards. I really liked about 500 of those 10K words, and happily I have them on paper!

Today is World AIDS Day. Time to reflect on all that has happened in the world of medicine since this mean disease raised its ugly head in the late 70s/early 80s.

I was in Toronto last month. Stayed with my friend Alan in what's known as the Gay Village. What a fabulous part of town! The night I arrived we went out for dinner at a lovely little Thai restaurant and then walked around. It was unseasonably warm. I saw the plaques with all the names of those who have died at the AIDS Memorial in Cawthra Park. Found my late friend Daniel's name there.

This post is for all the Daniels.

Here's a poem I wrote that was published in 1999 in Room of One's Own (now known as Room Magazine).

THE QUILT

       Daniel arrives at the airport

       wearing a floor length gown

       it’s Halloween   

       first time we’ve met

       I’ve heard so much about him

a Christmas card arrives from Don

scared, might have AIDS

waiting for results

I remember his orange Mustang

how we rode,  top down

through the Gatineau Hills

radio blasting

wind in our hair

another letter comes

he’s all right

Christmas is safe

each year, from now on

when cards begin

to drift in with the snow

I look for his

      and Daniel,  sweet Daniel

      delights in my infant son

      laughs with him  

      loves him

      hugs him and holds him

      until he falls asleep

      in Daniel’s arms

I come across a red and white ceramic ashtray

a gift from Mark the night

he and his lover threw a party

we danced and sang

I saw forever in their eyes

but that was years and years ago

my ashtray has a chip on one side

Mark went home to Newfoundland

weighed ninety pounds when he died

   

     Daniel looks at me

     over my baby’s head

     says he’s an old soul

     he will teach you

Blayne lies, tubes everywhere

in a Shaughnessy Hospital bed

wearing her latex armor

a nurse comes in to change the bag

that collects his urine

she does not pull the curtain

as if his privacy no longer matters

it does to me so I look away

busy myself with his plants

the only signs of life left in the room

after she leaves I talk about mutual friends

take his hand, say goodbye

know I really mean it

     Daniel sits beside my son

     they’re deep in concentration

     Daniel is drawing on command

    Make a horse! Make it run!

     says my son

     and Daniel draws

these latter day lepers

fill bed after bed after bed

in this place where I wait

to see Daniel

when I’m told he’s asleep

I write him a note

say I’m sorry to miss you

a strange thing to say

when the person I’ve missed

is dying by inches

and I’m going home 

on the plane the next day   

     Daniel arrives at the end of his life

     wearing a hospice gown

     I think of him now as part of a quilt

     that stretches as far as I want to see

     shimmering with starlight

     glistening with tears

     it is pieced together with love

§

ANNE DEGRACE BOOK LAUNCH & LATEST YMIR WRITERS' RETREAT

§
There wasn't a seat in the house last month when Nelson author Anne DeGrace launched her fourth book, a novel comprised of linked stories, Flying With Amelia. You can hear her read an excerpt from it over at Vimeo.

Anne used to be the rep for the Federation of BC Writers, South East Region. She got the Ymir retreats started and even though she couldn't join us for the most recent one, that's where I was last weekend. Once again fifteen of us took over the Ymir Palace Hotel in Ymir, BC. (Near Castlegar. Near Nelson.) We feasted, we wrote, we drank a little wine, we laughed. Good weekend.

 I'm about to head off again, Toronto this time. As a result, this post is going to be heavy on photos and light on words. 

The food was wonderful.

This time the Friday night dinner was catered by hotel owners, Ross and Belinda. Delicious carrot-ginger soup to start, then ratatouille and roast potatoes. 

Saturday night everyone read something after dinner. Here's Mary and Randi in listening mode.

Natasha 

Cynthia

Patricia, our regional representative for the Federation of BC Writers. She did an amazing job organizing this weekend.

Wei Yin

Arlene

Mary

Madeleine 

Dorothy

Patricia and me

Doreen

Randi

Madeleine

Sue

Shirley

Monica

Heather offered two short exercises to shake us loose each morning

The smiles tell the story. Great weekend!

§

FALLING INTO FALL AND OTHER POETIC PURSUITS

§


I've not posted anything lately. Too busy with yard work and similar endeavors. But I see people are still surfing in here so it's more than time for an update. 


Ah, fall. Season of taking stock. I was away, on Vancouver Island mostly, for a couple of weeks and since I got back there has been no end of things to do. It all began last week on an October-warm day when I decided I should prepare the basement room for wintering over my geraniums. Went down to clear of the table where some of them will sit and noticed there was a new thick layer of dust over everything. The room in question used to be Ted's turning shop. He built a proper one seven years ago and at some point this summer he finally removed some lumber that was still in a rack suspended from the basement ceiling. This unleashed a fury of the aforementioned dust, so instead of dealing with the geraniums I found myself vacuuming. The next day I attacked four boxes labeled "Sort Me" — full discloser here, I have a nasty habit of cleaning my workroom and at the very end, when it's all done except for a variety of paper vomit all over my desk, I sweep said paper into a box and, well, you get the picture. Such treasures I found! Like the last page of a four page poem I revised for a reading in February 2010, then promptly lost the revision. I knew it wasn't gone. It was "somewhere". It may be time to hunker down with an episode or two of Hoarders again. It's all a matter of degree, and that show keeps me honest. 


So here's a recap of my time away. First up was Nanaimo and WordStorm. Cindy and Peter hosted us lovingly, as you can see by this beautiful beverage complete with chocolate that we had after dinner the night we arrived.

WordStorm's new venue is the Rendezvous Restaurant. It has good food and a great performance space. Here's Cindy Shantz, one of the organizers.

Winona Baker at the open mic part of the evening. I've been reading her book, Flesh in the Inkwell: poems from a writer's life. Knew some of her work in haiku, but these are longer poems, and such stories she tells. I'm still haunted by one about her mother who threw herself on the ground over and over when she discovered she was pregnant again. 

Ursula Vaira read from her new book, And See What Happens, which contains three long poems that explore the ramifications of putting oneself in challenging situations; in Ursula's case, a thousand-mile paddle from Hazelton to Victoria and a kayak trip around the treacherous northern tip of Vancouver Island. 

Lisa Shatzky read from her new book, Do Not Call Me By My Name, an often harrowing telling of some of the stories gleaned from her work around as a trauma therapist with people who have suffered directly or indirectly because of residential schools.  

The end of her poem, The Elders, says it all.

When you take away 

a people's children, 

the elders lose their stories. 

With this collection of poems some of the stories are coming back.

 I read some poems, too.

 So did David Fraser.

 Next up was Victoria where I got to meet Lyra, a lovely new member of the family. 

 Then it was off to Val's for our annual Georgette's reunion of some poets who met and bonded at the Victoria School of Writing in 2005. This year we started with some genuine excitement — Kim Clark got to open a box containing her first book, a collection of stories called Attemptations. It's a brave and funny read that's not probably not like anything you've read before. 

Lenora came up from California so as not to miss out on the fun. And what a great weekend it was. We read and critiqued each other's work in the mornings and wrote new stuff in the afternoons (thanks to George's gentle prompting). Evenings were devoted to eating (everyone swooned over Jean's spinach and pear soup) and drinking wine. Some things never change. 

 Here's most of us (next time we'll coordinate the group picture before anyone leaves).

And that's it for this time. I'll be posting about Anne DeGrace's book launch next, soon as I upload the pictures from my camera. 
§

I'M READING IN NANAIMO AND FILMS ABOUT KIDS

§


A heads-up for next Monday, September 26, if you're in or around Nanaimo, BC. I'm reading at WordStorm with David Fraser, Ursula Vaira and Lisa Shatzky. Starts at 6:30 PM and it's a good idea to get there early. It happens at Diners Rendezvous, 489 Wallace Street. Love to see you there.


What a couple of weeks it's been. I had a interesting cyber-chat with an old friend who professed not to be into poetry all that much. Sent him a couple of mine as examples of what we were talking about and just found out today that one of them, Cake, is to be included in Leaf Press' forthcoming anthology of love poems. Nice way to start the day. 


And another of my poems, Stones for a Fire Pit, was featured on Your Daily Poem at the beginning of the month. 


Last weekend I attended a screening of two documentaries by local film makers, Katherine Pettit and Amy Bohigian. 

Katherine's is a delightful animated short film presented from the point of view of her toddler. Dancing with the Moon deals with Katherine's difficulties getting pregnant after being diagnosed with PCOS (Poly Cyctic Ovary Syndrome). In the course of seeking answers to why she was having difficulty conceiving after having had a miscarriage, she was offered a fertility drug. Instead she opted for a more natural approach which included paying strict attention to her diet and Lunaception, based on the theory that women's bodies respond to light and dark and if we weren't constantly surrounded by artificial light we'd menstruate at the time of the new moon and ovulate when the moon is full. I'd say Lunaception is working well for Ms. Pettit as in addition to the presence of her delightful small daughter she is very obviously pregnant again! I particularly liked the way she dealt with miscarriage in the film, suggesting that sometimes the children we conceive and lose are just not ready to join our family yet. Miscarriage is something that is so common to so many women. I had one once, and it was devastating. I remember my conflicted emotions as if it was yesterday (and as you can tell from my profile picture, this happened a very long time ago). Global music man, Adham Shaikh, did the music for the film. 


These days it seems the news includes at least one dysfunctional family story every time I turn it on. It was so refreshing to watch Conceiving Family which tells the story of Amy, her partner Jane Byers, and four other same-sex couples and their experiences on the road to adopting a child. Jane, who co-wrote the film, is in my poetry group in Nelson and you should see her light up when she talks about her kids. Yes, kids, plural. Jane and Amy ended up adopting twins! 


The audience at the Capitol Theatre was very kid-friendly — and that in itself was refreshing as earlier in the day I'd heard a story on CBC about a couple who think there should be a four-block child-free zone around their condo in the area where they live. They went on about the stressful jobs they have and how upsetting it is to come home after a hard day's slogging in the graphic design mines, or wherever it is they work, and seeing yards with plastic toys and overturned bicycles in them. I'm not kidding. Makes you wonder how they ever got through childhood without thoroughly offending themselves... but I digress. (Note: Apparently I didn't digress enough; one of my faithful readers —thanks, Jim — tells me there's a new show, This is That, that does stories like this with a straight face. That'll teach me to turn on the radio mid-program!) Anyway, back to the Capitol and Amy's film, the room was filled with many parents (some same-sex couples, some not) who had adopted kids from various countries. It looked like the United Nations in there! The story unfolded with all the couples' experiences en route to becoming parents woven into a whole cloth of story. If only, I thought, leaving the theatre when it was over, if only all kids were as wanted as the ones we saw in the film, to say nothing of the ones who were running around in the theatre. Music for this one was by Ben Euerby. He's in a couple of bands with my son, Jesse, who played some guitar for Conceiving Family. If you get the chance, see this film. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll scratch your head at the incomprehensible obstacles same-sex couples can face simply because they want to raise a child. I think it will be interesting to assess, in a couple of decades or so, how well the children raised by same-sex couples are faring in this adventure we call life. I'm betting they'll be doing just fine.

Jane and Amy at the Castlegar Festival, Summer 2011

§