(no subject)
Now you have burned your books, you'll go with nothing.
A heart.
The world is full of the grandeur,
and it is.
Perfection of tables: crooked grains;
and all this talk: this folly of tongues.
Too many stories: yes, and
high talk: the exact curve of the thing.
Sweetness and lies: the hook, grey deadly bait,
a wind and water to kill cedar, idle men, the innocent
not love, and hard eyes
over the cold,
not love (eyes, hands, hands, arm)
given, taken, to the marrow;
(the grand joke: le mot juste:
forget it; remember):
Walking is all: readiness:
you are watching;
I'll learn by going:
Sleave-silk flies; the kindly ones.
John Thompson, Ghazal XXXVII
Went to the CBC studios downtown after work today to attend an open mic event for Canada Reads. I got up to the mic near the end, stammered and babbled nervously (all these years of performing, and I still get freaked out by a microphone) about two books that I felt deserved everybody's attention. I don't need to tell you what they are: you know me well enough by now to at least make an honest guess. While a lot about the CBC building has changed in recent years, Studio 1 where tonight's taping took place has not; it's almost exactly the same as it was when I last recorded there about 10 years ago. It will air on CBC Radio on Saturday, March 6.
Afterwards I went to Robson Square to take in the ongoing Olympic atmosphere. Canada soundly defeated Russia in men's hockey today, and you could feel the air crackling with the excitement of untold thousands of people gathered in the streets downtown. I'm not sure if I want to be downtown on Sunday: this euphoria is beginning to feel as though it could turn into something nasty, something that will be unleashed on the city.
A heart.
The world is full of the grandeur,
and it is.
Perfection of tables: crooked grains;
and all this talk: this folly of tongues.
Too many stories: yes, and
high talk: the exact curve of the thing.
Sweetness and lies: the hook, grey deadly bait,
a wind and water to kill cedar, idle men, the innocent
not love, and hard eyes
over the cold,
not love (eyes, hands, hands, arm)
given, taken, to the marrow;
(the grand joke: le mot juste:
forget it; remember):
Walking is all: readiness:
you are watching;
I'll learn by going:
Sleave-silk flies; the kindly ones.
John Thompson, Ghazal XXXVII
Went to the CBC studios downtown after work today to attend an open mic event for Canada Reads. I got up to the mic near the end, stammered and babbled nervously (all these years of performing, and I still get freaked out by a microphone) about two books that I felt deserved everybody's attention. I don't need to tell you what they are: you know me well enough by now to at least make an honest guess. While a lot about the CBC building has changed in recent years, Studio 1 where tonight's taping took place has not; it's almost exactly the same as it was when I last recorded there about 10 years ago. It will air on CBC Radio on Saturday, March 6.
Afterwards I went to Robson Square to take in the ongoing Olympic atmosphere. Canada soundly defeated Russia in men's hockey today, and you could feel the air crackling with the excitement of untold thousands of people gathered in the streets downtown. I'm not sure if I want to be downtown on Sunday: this euphoria is beginning to feel as though it could turn into something nasty, something that will be unleashed on the city.