Tuesday, April 15th, 2014

I thought I was in the clear when Sunday turned out to be 26° C (80° F). Alas, this morning I woke up to a pronounced layer of snow all over everything. This has been, by far, the worst winter in years. I need to move somewhere warmer.

Not much has been brewing since I published “Dusk,” which I found to be entertaining. I’ve been reading Ezra Pound’s “Homage to Sextus Propertius” and “Hugh Selwyn Mauberly.” Apparently, the two are meant to be fitted side-by-side and is done so in Diptych Rome-London. These poems are a bit much for the casual reader, as “Homage” includes a lot of lesser known historical figures such as Sextus Propertius and “Mauberly” uses a ton of imagery. That’s not surprising, as Pound was the developer of Imagism.

There is a very moving section, as noted in the introduction of the book, where Pound strikes hard at the cost of world war.

There died a myriad,

And of the best, among them,

For an old bitch gone in the teeth,

For a botched civilization…

– (“E. P. Ode Pour L’Election de Son Sepulchre, V”, 1-4)

This really puzzles me, as he aided and abetted the Axis powers in the Second World War. One would think he’d remember what it felt like to go through it the first time. Even though I’ve gone through the poems once, I’ll have to read them a few more times to really “get it.” As of right now, I only consider this an “experience” of Pound.

 

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Tuesday, January 7th, 2014

What does one do when Canada camps out on your front stoop?

A) Shovel the stoop in hopes a snow caterpillar (i.e. drift) arrives.

B) Perform a nude interpretive dance of “O, Canada”.

C) Throw boiling hot water into the wind with the intent of having your flesh seared.

D) Play chicken with the plow truck.

E) Wet the street down to make an impromptu ice rink… for cars.

The answer is F) you stay inside and make sure the pipes don’t burst.

The Fields are no stranger to winter weather. There have been multiple times where temperatures have reached -23.3° C (-10° F) or less in my lifetime. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. This is where someone chimes in “well, here’s it’s (lesser temperature) every winter!” We all know that person.

You know what? Good for you! Do you want a cookie? If I’m grumbling about -24° C weather (with a hearty -38° C wind chill), I’m not all that interested in your location right now. I’m more interested in busting up that snow drift at the end of my driveway, courtesy of the street department, to get to my mailbox. Better yet, I’m trying to think of places that I could do a nude interpretive dance of “O, Canada” without receiving a blue ribbon in frostbite or hypothermia. As I type, I hear another plow truck. The shovel just hit something very crunchy. I think he might have broken up more of my curb. 😐

All of this can be used for good though. If I ever get out of here, which could simply mean my house right now, I know that relocating further North is out of the question. I’m through with Winter. I can’t be shut up more than 24 hours in my house or I start to feel all weird. It’s that kind of weird you get when you buy a completely inappropriate gift for someone and no one else finds the humour in it. I should be doing something right now. Adventure! At the very least, things at the office. OK, so maybe it’s just things at the office but still. There’s a potential for adventure. I’ll leave my office door open for that.

Maybe I could be a beach bum in some Caribbean island, and spend the rest of my days scaring children and making people give me pocket change by following them around talking gibberish? I’d make a little hut out of corrugated metal and share it with a coconut named Nigel, who would always correct me by saying “‘Sir’ Nigel, if you please.” I’d also scavenge a small radio that would play hokey lite rock where I would sing out of key to Jimmy Buffet and Christoper Cross. Yeah, that’s the life right there.

Saturday, January 4th, 2014

The snow… it laughs at me, and not in a playful “Frosty the Snowman” sort of way either. Yesterday was rather windy, and I came home to waist-high drifts against the garage. As much at the Zephyrus mounds looked aesthetically pleasing, it was not conducive to fitting the car into the bay. Parking the vehicle in a low spot, I spent a little over an hour and a half scraping tarmacadam. Amid huffs of cursing and puffs of making oaths, I’ve resolved to start saving money for a snow blower. There’s simply to much to shovel by hand, and it might jeopardize my health some day.

I haven’t much time to do anything other than work and sleep. This is slightly tragic as there was a story idea that I wanted to write about, but it was forgotten in the haze of taking calls and compiling numbers. Getting distracted seems to be the mind killer these days.

This isn’t the time to be exasperated though, as I have a whole year to develop something wonderful. Not to be too proud, but I’m finishing my year-end materials quicker than usual this year. Once the last of the governmental demands are fulfilled, I should get out somewhere. It can’t be expensive, but there has to be something interesting around to visit. It couldn’t hurt the creative process either.

Sometimes, events unblock memories that I’ve put away for a long time. This makes me debate whether I should make a post about the first (and only) time I went to a strip club. It left such an impression on me, that I never did go back.