In nine days I'll have a new apartment all to myself, somewhere I can go and sit on the floor and get away from the babbling construction workers that repel up and down the side of the building, passing my window with their hammering and sawing, starting at 8 o'clock sharp every morning. Nine days. I'm going to get a new bed, one that I can actually sit up in. One that's more comfortable, with an actual mattress that I don't have to fold and turn into a couch. New pillows. Glorious. I haven't slept regularly in an actual bed for almost a year. The insanity must stop.
My schedule over the next little while is going to be intense. Let me try and work it out here.
Saturday, July 26th: Rent a car and go to Trolley's wedding
Sunday, July 27th: Trip to Gatineau Park
Monday, July 28th: Pick up keys for new apartment, drop off first month's rent
Tuesday, July 29th: Trip to London
Sunday, August 2nd: Return to Ottawa
Monday, August 3rd - Friday, August 8th: Pack for the move
Saturday, August 9th: Trip to Peterborough
Friday, August 15th: Radiohead show in Toronto
Sunday, August 17th: Return to Peterborough
Monday, August 18th: Come back to Ottawa and perform the move
Saturday, August 23rd: Connolley's bachelor party
Wednesday, August 27th: See Wicked at the NAC
And then there's another wedding in early September. And then I go back to work. Of course, a lot of this is hinging on what days in particular my mother has off for holidays, and when my dad will be able to help me out with moving. I'd better get on the horn with the folks tonight.
Yesterday I spent a couple of hours reading Paul Quarrington's Galveston before grabbing pizza with Andrea. Last night I caught Steve's solo project turned band Mud Lake perform at the Bytown Tavern. I was really impressed with the way he was able to put together the outfit in such a short period of time. Sounded good. I bowed out after the second act, Citizen Folk, and headed home.
I'm not feeling very well this morning. The construction, of course, is an added bonus.
Showing posts with label paul quarrington. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paul quarrington. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Last night a zombie menstruated on me, but I'll get to that in a bit.
Joe's group met for the final time yesterday. We went over the final revisions and exercises. There was a kid in the group named Dan who has cerebral palsy and who received some bad news during the class about his friend, who apparently had a serious accident on a construction site. It prompted some discussion about how great Dan is to be doing what he's doing in the condition that he's in. The guy is really decent, a big fan of music, and he writes columns for a local Toronto indie mag called Tambourine (including a rather scathing one about Econoline Crush reforming. Yikes.). My group was solid on the whole. Nice people. And it's been a pleasure to talk with some older people this past week. I don't have a lot of them in my life and their advice has been well taken. I told this woman Sharon yesterday that I worry sometimes about the way I keep starting things over, and she told me to look at it as a continuation instead of a series of brand new decisions. That sounds simple, but it's a pretty damn good point.
I was awarded a photo of Joe and I for my service as an assistant. It looks really nice and I'm going to hang it up in the new place as a reminder of what I've learned and felt this past week. I also found the bravery to make the rounds and had all of my books signed. The authors, of course, were all gracious and encouraging, especially Wayson, who asked me how long I'd been a writer and wrote me some words of encouragement in my copy of All That Matters: "To David, whose words will matter. Love has no rules. Write on!" Very nice. Back at the office I helped out with some agenda packaging and Antanas Sileika, author and artistic director of the Humber writers program, lent me a copy of an expensive book about writing that he swears by and told me I could hang on to it for a couple of months. It's been a solid week and I think I've formed some relationships that will be very beneficial to me as both a writer and a person.
Okay. Menstruating zombies. Kim and I met Matt after work and we went for burritos at Burrito Boyz, a tiny, cramped order-and-go place near Peter and Richmond. It felt nice standing in that restaurant, I Mother Earth and Our Lady Peace playing on the sound system, where all I had was time and the impression that a new memory was forming. We scarfed down our burritos and then changed clothes in a Tim Hortons. For over a week Matt had been hinting at some Friday night activity that I needed old pants for. It turned out that he had purchased tickets to Evil Dead: The Musical, right in the "splatter zone," aka the second of three rows towards the front of the stage that are bathed in fake blood over the course of the production. He picked up cheap, white undershirts for us to wear. The production was a RIOT, especially since we were both so familiar with the films. The second act started up without any real kind of mess, but sure enough things turned into an all-out gore fest once Ash started slaughtering Candarian demons. One of the demons started bleeding out of her vagina in a picture perfect arc onto the crowd, and it hit me for a good five seconds. Blood rained out of the ceiling, it was spit in people's faces and squeezed out of beating hearts and shot out of pulsating neck wounds. Kim took some pictures afterwards and I'll try and get one or two up. We took transit home and I looked like I had a pretty bad head wound with trickles of blood running down my face. It was messy and awesome and must be experienced.
After we got back to the apartment we sat on the balcony and had a couple of beers before bed. I finally have a day off. I'm going to get some writing and reading done and hopefully take a nostalgic stroll up Keele Street.
Joe's group met for the final time yesterday. We went over the final revisions and exercises. There was a kid in the group named Dan who has cerebral palsy and who received some bad news during the class about his friend, who apparently had a serious accident on a construction site. It prompted some discussion about how great Dan is to be doing what he's doing in the condition that he's in. The guy is really decent, a big fan of music, and he writes columns for a local Toronto indie mag called Tambourine (including a rather scathing one about Econoline Crush reforming. Yikes.). My group was solid on the whole. Nice people. And it's been a pleasure to talk with some older people this past week. I don't have a lot of them in my life and their advice has been well taken. I told this woman Sharon yesterday that I worry sometimes about the way I keep starting things over, and she told me to look at it as a continuation instead of a series of brand new decisions. That sounds simple, but it's a pretty damn good point.
I was awarded a photo of Joe and I for my service as an assistant. It looks really nice and I'm going to hang it up in the new place as a reminder of what I've learned and felt this past week. I also found the bravery to make the rounds and had all of my books signed. The authors, of course, were all gracious and encouraging, especially Wayson, who asked me how long I'd been a writer and wrote me some words of encouragement in my copy of All That Matters: "To David, whose words will matter. Love has no rules. Write on!" Very nice. Back at the office I helped out with some agenda packaging and Antanas Sileika, author and artistic director of the Humber writers program, lent me a copy of an expensive book about writing that he swears by and told me I could hang on to it for a couple of months. It's been a solid week and I think I've formed some relationships that will be very beneficial to me as both a writer and a person.
Okay. Menstruating zombies. Kim and I met Matt after work and we went for burritos at Burrito Boyz, a tiny, cramped order-and-go place near Peter and Richmond. It felt nice standing in that restaurant, I Mother Earth and Our Lady Peace playing on the sound system, where all I had was time and the impression that a new memory was forming. We scarfed down our burritos and then changed clothes in a Tim Hortons. For over a week Matt had been hinting at some Friday night activity that I needed old pants for. It turned out that he had purchased tickets to Evil Dead: The Musical, right in the "splatter zone," aka the second of three rows towards the front of the stage that are bathed in fake blood over the course of the production. He picked up cheap, white undershirts for us to wear. The production was a RIOT, especially since we were both so familiar with the films. The second act started up without any real kind of mess, but sure enough things turned into an all-out gore fest once Ash started slaughtering Candarian demons. One of the demons started bleeding out of her vagina in a picture perfect arc onto the crowd, and it hit me for a good five seconds. Blood rained out of the ceiling, it was spit in people's faces and squeezed out of beating hearts and shot out of pulsating neck wounds. Kim took some pictures afterwards and I'll try and get one or two up. We took transit home and I looked like I had a pretty bad head wound with trickles of blood running down my face. It was messy and awesome and must be experienced.
After we got back to the apartment we sat on the balcony and had a couple of beers before bed. I finally have a day off. I'm going to get some writing and reading done and hopefully take a nostalgic stroll up Keele Street.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
David,
You are a very accomplished writer, and these linked stories, especially the first one, are dazzling. They are sensitive, often lyrical (but never overly), and together they begin to paint a portrait of a wonderful, magnetic woman. Sometimes I think you forget your place, especially in the third installment here (because the boy, albeit an old soul, speaks a language unsuited to him). But you have a great book going here. We'll talk. Bravo.
Joe Kertes
I had pieces of my novel given the once over yesterday and received some healthy feedback. Most importantly, perhaps, I received suggestions for a lot of reading material. In addition to picking up titles by various authors involved with the workshops, I placed an order at Amazon for a bunch of books that should arrive next week.
I made revisions last night to the entire thing and I think it sounds a lot better. I'm meeting with Joe today for a half hour. Yesterday I asked for advice about writing consistently, and he said to just do it, to carve out time during the day for writing, reading and living. I realized that I really have no excuse not to do this. Once I work into a routine, I'll get to the point where it feels natural, kind of like writing in this blog. Joe also mentioned that after awhile, your characters will begin to take on a life of their own, and it's as if they start talking to you and making demands on the kind of people they are and the decisions they'd make. It all sounds great.
I went on my own for lunch to do some editing because I knew I'd be working on revisions in the evening. Olive Senior, Bruce Jay Friedman and Paul Quarrington gave talks in the afternoon, the latter two about writing for television and film. I asked Paul about his thoughts on Bill C-10. I doubt there was a person sitting in the room who supported it, but it was nice to hear it reaffirmed that it's bullshit (removing tax credits for films that are deemed "inoffensive" by the Heritage Minister).
I'd really like to make the rounds for autographs, but I'm intimidated as all hell to do so, especially when I think about approaching guys like Bausch, who seems like a grizzly bear you don't want to provoke. It's actually just kind of nice to hang out with these people and view them in their natural social environment. Too many animal comparisons. Alistair MacLeod, the man, is giving a reading today. These next couple of days should be quick.
I feel a bit bad because Matt has been working an insane amount this week, and now it looks like he'll be working through the weekend. We won't get to spend much time together. More than anything I hate to see the guy wear himself out.
You are a very accomplished writer, and these linked stories, especially the first one, are dazzling. They are sensitive, often lyrical (but never overly), and together they begin to paint a portrait of a wonderful, magnetic woman. Sometimes I think you forget your place, especially in the third installment here (because the boy, albeit an old soul, speaks a language unsuited to him). But you have a great book going here. We'll talk. Bravo.
Joe Kertes
I had pieces of my novel given the once over yesterday and received some healthy feedback. Most importantly, perhaps, I received suggestions for a lot of reading material. In addition to picking up titles by various authors involved with the workshops, I placed an order at Amazon for a bunch of books that should arrive next week.
I made revisions last night to the entire thing and I think it sounds a lot better. I'm meeting with Joe today for a half hour. Yesterday I asked for advice about writing consistently, and he said to just do it, to carve out time during the day for writing, reading and living. I realized that I really have no excuse not to do this. Once I work into a routine, I'll get to the point where it feels natural, kind of like writing in this blog. Joe also mentioned that after awhile, your characters will begin to take on a life of their own, and it's as if they start talking to you and making demands on the kind of people they are and the decisions they'd make. It all sounds great.
I went on my own for lunch to do some editing because I knew I'd be working on revisions in the evening. Olive Senior, Bruce Jay Friedman and Paul Quarrington gave talks in the afternoon, the latter two about writing for television and film. I asked Paul about his thoughts on Bill C-10. I doubt there was a person sitting in the room who supported it, but it was nice to hear it reaffirmed that it's bullshit (removing tax credits for films that are deemed "inoffensive" by the Heritage Minister).
I'd really like to make the rounds for autographs, but I'm intimidated as all hell to do so, especially when I think about approaching guys like Bausch, who seems like a grizzly bear you don't want to provoke. It's actually just kind of nice to hang out with these people and view them in their natural social environment. Too many animal comparisons. Alistair MacLeod, the man, is giving a reading today. These next couple of days should be quick.
I feel a bit bad because Matt has been working an insane amount this week, and now it looks like he'll be working through the weekend. We won't get to spend much time together. More than anything I hate to see the guy wear himself out.
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