If you're in Vancouver tomorrow, hope to see you there.

Things I noticed this week:

There's a store across from my bus stop that sells tennis rackets and skis called "What's Your Racket and Ski". Maybe they figured one pun was enough...

A coffee mug I used at work had the motto for Calgary Independent Reporters Inc. on it: "Stepping into the Future... Today!" Awesome.

This is probably the kind of thing I shouldn't expend too much energy on, but it annoyed me, and I believe in getting things on the record:

This is a note sent out to the English Literature Students' Society email list about the reading I organized and hosted last Saturday:

Well, today was certainly an interesting day. I headed downtown earlier this evening with the intention of going to the Old School reading at the Truck Gallery. I got downtown to the gallery’s front steps, only to be confronted with a sign stating, quite clearly, that the reading was open to “members and invited guests” only. This caveat had not been mentioned in any of the advertising for this event, including the official mailing list, the readers’ promotions, and the University of Calgary English Department webpage. Not feeling inclined to try bluffing my way past the doorman (and probably woefully underdressed anyway in my khaki cargo pants and fleece sweatshirt), I decided to call it a loss and caught the next train home. Bugger all to show for my time. So let this be a lesson to all you event planners out there – if you’re going to make your do an exclusive party, be a nice chap and let people know ahead of time! My apologies to any of you who tried the same thing as I did, based on the fact that I listed this event in my last newsletter, and got the boot at the front door.

This is the email I sent in reply:

I'm sorry you had so much trouble getting to my reading last night, but I can't imagine that there was a sign like that outside the Truck Gallery. I certainly didn't see one. Maybe you were at one of the fancy restaurants on either side of it? Or the jazz club on the corner? The Truck is in the basement of a pretty old and run-down office building, and there is no way they have a dress code, doorman, or members only policy.

It bothers me that you have sent a notice to your entire mail list insinuating that I would be careless enough to invite the public to an exclusive event. I've been organizing events in Calgary for close to ten years, and my reputation in the writing community is very important to me. I'm sure your mail list is large enough to have some influence on people's opinions.

Obviously, the event was open to the public, or I wouldn't have advertised it all around town. I was hoping someone would post a correction of some kind to the email list, but so far no luck.

One of my new favorite bands, The Duke Spirit:

Petition against Bill c-484, Unborn Victims of Crime Act

There's a bill under consideration at Parliament right now that purports to protect pregnant women by making it an offence to cause injury to an unborn fetus, but which, quite obviously, will merely make it easier to impose restrictions on women's right to choose to abort their pregnancies.

The bill has passed second reading, so it's well on its way to becoming law. Canada has not had any legal restriction on abortion since 1988 (although procedural policies have certainly restricted many women's access to facilities where safe and timely abortions can be performed).

I was involved in a Students for Choice club in my last year of law school, and the vitriolic opposition to the concept of choice frankly shocked me. Just to be clear: I don't advocate abortion. I think having to choose whether or not to end your pregnancy must be the worst experience any human being could ever go through. But if the choice has to be made, the decision should rest solely within the power of the women who have to make it, not within the power of men in suits in Ottawa or anywhere else (well, unless they're the father... you know what I mean).

Anyway, sign the petition here. Read more about it here, here, here and here.

Know all men by these presents...

He cannot guarantee long time until the entire garage will fell off.

Words herein importing a number of gender shall be construed in grammatical conformance with the context of the party or parties in reference.

Is “tot lots”a term of art?

The road supposes to be fully completed...

Find the problem if there is one and fix it!! Lawyers fix problems.

The roof has no support at all, and was built with negligence.

Yes, gender difference does affect our use of language, and we constantly confront issues of difference, distance, and absence, when we write. That doesn't mean I can relegate women to what we "should" or "must" be doing. Orders suggest hierarchy and category. Categories and hierarchies suggest property. My voice formed from my life belongs to no one else. What I put into words is no longer my possession. Possibility has opened. The future will forget, erase, or recollect and deconstruct every poem. There is a mystic separation between poetic vision and ordinary living. The conditions for poetry rest outside each life at a miraculous reach indifferent to worldly chronology.

- Susan Howe, My Emily Dickinson, p. 13

Emily Dickinson's life was language and a lexicon her landscape.

- Susan Howe, My Emily Dickinson, p. 27

Apparently I started this blog over five years ago (April 10, 2003, but I hid the first year and half or so of posts). Back then very few poets had blogs. Then most poets had blogs. Now most poets have abandoned their blogs. And still I blog. And still, as far as I can tell, hardly anyone reads this. How charmingly futile.

I ordered a bunch of books about three weeks ago, then forgot what I'd ordered, but decided not to find out, so that I'd be surprised when they came. Today I was pleasantly surprised to receive The Book of Beginnings and Endings by Jenny Boully and My Emily Dickinson by Susan Howe. Nice work, self of three weeks ago.

Best parts of working in a law office:

1. Clients come in a lot, so there is always coffee.

2. Saying things like, "Did that fax come in for the Smith file?" or "I'm working on the Jones file right now." Who knew that could be so satisfying?

Searching for David Bowie videos on youtube led me to a cover of "Hurt" Bowie did with Nine Inch Nails, which reminded me of this video of Johnny Cash covering "Hurt," still affecting and disturbing and lovely.

This sentence is like a cul-de-sac, you can walk along it but you won't really get anywhere:

The knowledge of the innkeeper and his staff of the plaintiff’s somewhat limited capacity for consuming alcoholic stimulants without becoming befuddled and sometimes obstreperous, seized them with a duty to be careful not to serve him with repeated drinks after the effects of what he had already consumed should have been obvious.

Well, blog, I've enjoyed our time together, but I have to go be a lawyer now.

Maybe I can visit you on weekends...



UPDATE: I'm not actually miserable, just adjusting.

I'm not big on hippies, but I love this Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young song.

"almost cut my hair
it happened just the other day
it was gettin' kinda long
i coulda said it was in my way...

but i didn't and i
wonder why
feel like lettin' my
freak flag fly"

Today I'm trying to remember how to publicize a poetry reading. Remember way back in the day when it was all about making lame-ass posters and putting them up around the university or on 17th ave and expecting people to a) notice them and b) remember where to go when? I miss that in a way. Although it is definitely better to spread the word electronically and not have to leave my house or pyjamas.

I used to read the Poetry Foundation blog mainly for Christian Bok's posts, now I read it mainly for Linh Dinh's posts.

SPRING

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots,
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

- Edna St. Vincent Millay