December 15th, 2010

Reverb 14

What’s the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it? (Author: Victoria Klein)

Toronto transit.

So yesterday, I got as far as to decide what I wanted to write about, but then I had to leave and actually take transit. This is what happened:

My first bus is notoriously unreliable–sometimes you wait 20 minutes and then 3 of them show up. I’m sure you know; there are lines like this all over the city. Anyway, I only need to go 4 stops on that line, so when there is no bus in sight I walk, which I did last night. It was snowy and cold, but not as cold as in the morning, so I was more or less ok.

Then I got to my second bus line–this one normally totally reliable and frequent, which is a good thing because the distance I need to go on it is totally unwalkable. Except, last night it didn’t come for 25 minutes. By that point, I’d lost feeling in my nose and toes, and a little bit of faith in my sympathy for my fellow human beings. The two people behind me in the crowded bus shelter had the loudest voices and the most obnoxious relationship on earth–of course, the people behind me always do. But what *was* their relationship? Because it was too dark to read and my iPod wires tend to freeze in the cold, I had plenty of time to contemplate this. A couple? Maybe, they were around the same age, but I don’t think I’d order *my* partner to blow his nose (but maybe that’s just because he’s pretty well on top of things and doesn’t need my intervention). Brother and sister? They sure did bicker a lot; my favourite part was the screaming (but at least brief) argument over how much sugar was too much in the cup of coffee they were sharing (why? why?), which resulted in packets of sugar being thrown at my feet. Then, for a while, the male left the bus shelter and wandered around in the snow, which the female stood where she had been left and wailed, “Get back in the bus shelter, get back in the bus shelter!”

The man beside me attempted to say a couple things to me in a sympathetic tone of voice, but between the wind, the yelling behind us, and his thick accent, the only word I could make out was “fuck.” I smiled pacificistically at him.

By the time I wished I was dead, the bus came. Of course it was packed–by my count, at least 5 scheduled busses hadn’t arrived. I determinedly slithered my way to the back. Something makes Toronto passengers very reluctant to move back–when you ask them, they always say, “I don’t mind standing here, I’m getting off soon.” But *I* am going nearly to the end of the line, and I do mind. After only a few stops, I got a seat at the very back, by a window. I couldn’t look out, because it was coated in grime. I tried reading for a while, but something weird was going on–the bus was moving very slowly and jerkily, stopping and starting. Were we stuck in traffic? It was hard to concentrate. Finally I tipped my head against the window (toque providing some cushion) and fell asleep.

When I woke up, I had no idea how much time had passed, and because I couldn’t see out, I didn’t know where we were, either. I kind of panicked, unreasonably–there is no where that bus goes that I don’t know well or couldn’t deal with, but it was weird not to know where I was. I finally stood up in my seat, panicking the guy beside me with the giant grocery bag in his lap, and looked out the front window–we’d gone about six blocks. We were still stuck in some sort of mystery traffic-jam, the likes of which I have never seen in that part of the world before. I actually couldn’t even see traffic around us from where I sat, I just know that we were going 10km/h with frequent stops–for all I know, we were stuck in quicksand or molasses.

So we staggered along, I read a bit of the New Yorker, and the guy beside me ate two bags of salt’n'vinegar chips in rapid succession. When we finally got to my stop, I had been in transit for a grand total of 90 minutes, about twice as long as it usually takes. I got off with the same two people I’d been waiting with. I overheard them talking about which bus they would take next (those poor people–where were they going?) but then they walked right past the stop. I have absolutely no idea what was going on with those two.

And after all that…I STILL say I appreciate the TTC. For one thing, I still got to my appointment (only 3 minutes late) and there wasn’t any other way for carless me to do so–the TTC is not annoying enough to cancel out being able to go anywhere in the city for $3. And although if I win a car in Roll-Up-the-Rim or something, I would probably be pleased, I wouldn’t have really wanted to driving in all that…whatever was going on with traffic. Also, the people I was travelling with, the crazy ones? I’m *really* glad they weren’t in charge of 1000 pounds of hurtling steel and glass. On the bus, they could only damage eardrums.

Because I’m getting older, so are my friends, and I hear more transit-bashing than I used to. Common threads are: “There are too many weirdos on TTC” “I hate having to brush against strangers to get around them” “You could get bedbugs from sitting in a subway seat” “People always try to talk to me on transit” etc., etc. So much of the negativity I hear about transit basically boils down to: strangers are bad, being alone in one’s car is good. Which may well be true…for some people, people who lead lives with a lot of people in them already. For example, I drove when I worked at a fast-food joint, and was pretty happy to spend that time alone with the radio. But now I have in essence two jobs that both involve being all alone for hours at a time, and I crave strangers. I crave people, eavesdropped conversations, strange ideas–maybe not brushing up against people, certainly not bedbugs, and likely not an extend conversation on nose-blowing technique. But it’s what I’ve got, so I’ll take it and hope it gives me some insight into the world.

Maybe I’m just trying to make the best of the situation; after all, I really did sort of want to die during the above debacle. If I do win that roll-up-the-rim, I might never look back. But as long as things continue as they are, I don’t mind; I think the TTC makes my life more interesting. Also, if I drove, I couldn’t sleep on the way.

December 11th, 2010

Reverb 10

What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out? (Author: Susannah Conway) (www.reverb10.com)

I’m getting behind with these, so will just try to do one quickly before I run off to Christmas shop!

This is actually a really good question, but it’s tempting to be glib and say it was “admitting I couldn’t drive in a downpour in rural New Brunswick” or something like that. Not that it wasn’t a good decision, but…not the *wisest*…

I think the best decision I made this year wasn’t a conscious big one, but rather a series of little ones that led to me writing my book exactly how I wanted. There wasn’t a tonne of pressure on me to do any one thing, but I think we all have a critical reader living in our heads, saying, “No one cares about this stuff,” or “That’s dumb,” “Don’t be silly,” etc. I was, to a degree that surprises me, able to turn that off and write the book that *I* want to read.

The advantage of this is that I had a good time; writing is hard and sometimes stressful, but if you are writing the thing you love most, it’s a lot better. I liked doing the (small) bits of research I did, I was fascinated by the characters that I invited to live in my brain, I liked the whole process.

Do I want other people to be as enraptured by this world as I am? Of course I do, but that’s impossible; no reader could ever care as much about a book as a writer does. So, failing that, I get to write what I like. And that’s a great joy.

But I still hope other people read and “get” it.

PS–Um…that book that I’m talking about above, *The Big Dream*? It’s, uh, done now. In the main, I mean–there still might be edits, of course. But it’s a complete manuscript, a lurking scary thing on my hard drive. I just find that so weird…

December 5th, 2010

Reverb Day 5

The prompt: What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why? (Author: Alice Bradley) (Reverb10)

Ah…I don’t know? No, really, sorry, I don’t–this one doesn’t seem applicable to me. I don’t think I let go of anything except some old sneakers and a pot I couldn’t get clean. I know I’m supposed to say a grudge or the torch for some lost love, or maybe some bad habit, but I just can’t think of anything.

I’ll come back to this later in the month if I think of anything.

November 8th, 2010

Just in case everything sucks…

…Ash Koley videos. I don’t know why there’s two for the same song, but they’re both charming and depending on the sort of day you’re having, you might need’em (the first is my fave).

This one is sad, but it’s got streetcars in it, and it always warms my heart to see TO on the screen. Can you id the street for me, please?

Hope this

October 18th, 2010

I saw the sunrise in Scarborough

Which is why I have very little in the way of interesting things to say this morning. But other people do!

First, writers in Toronto who use the library, maybe you could help them out by filling out this tiny survey?

Then, read Scott’s helpful (and amusing) list of 5 things that you shouldn’t argue about. You can’t go read the Toronto Star’s happy review of AJ Somerset’s *Combat Camera*, but you can get a snippet (plus some snark) on AJ’s blog. Andrew won the Western Magazine award, which is pretty much the content of the post at that link, but if you go there you can tell him congrats plus see a cute picture of a kitty-cat nose.

Kerry suggests you vote for *The Girls Who Saw Everything* by Sean Dixon for Canada Reads. I think that’s a good idea because Kerry’s usually right about stuff, but cannot personally vouch for this one having not read the book. Actually, I thought Sean Dixon’s novel was called *The Lacuna Cabal* (which it is, in the UK), which probably cut down on my odds of finding it. Things are looking up for me doing so now!

Anyway, you should go at least vote for *something* on the Canada Reads site. It’s all very interesting, even if you, like me, don’t know what’s going on most of the time.

October 4th, 2010

Proust Questionnaire (like the Frosh Questionnaire, but smarter)

So awesome Scott has answered both my Frosh Questionnaire and the much more intellectual Proust Questionnaire and thus inspired be to want to do that one too! So…I did!

a. Your favourite virtue. In me? Niceness, I guess. The old meaning of the word, before it got all corrupted to mean lame and boring: I care what’s up with other people, and like to listen to their stories, and I worry about their problems. I’ll chase a stranger down the street if she dropped a glove.

b. Your favourite quality in a man: Niceness.

c. Your favourite quality in a woman: Still niceness.

d. Your chief characteristic: my chattiness (this is what S put, but it’s mine too–maybe this is why we get on so well…?)

e. What you appreciate the most in your friends: Their time and laughter–S’s again, but I agree. Oh, and good ideas. And recipes.

f. Your main fault: Flibberty-gibbet (ie., short attention span, don’t finish things, forget things).

g. Your favourite occupation: Conversation.

h. Your idea of happiness: I don’t have a particular one. Makes it a lot easier to find.

i. Your idea of misery: Boredom. And being all alone.

j. If not yourself, who would you be?: Uhh…I have no idea. Sorry. I like me!

k. Where would you like to live? Toronto. That worked out well.

l. Favourite colour and flower: Orange and roses. Sadly, there are no orange roses.

m. Favourite bird: Mourning doves. So peaceful and chubby and patient.

n. Favourite prose authors: This questionnaire is so hard! John Updike, Francesca Lia Block, Alice Munro, Joshua Ferris, Leon Rooke, my brother when he sends me emails…this list would be different tomorrow (except the first two, who are always there)

o. Favorite Poets: Eek! John Milton, Michael Ondaatje, Dani Couture

p. Favorite heroes in fiction: Johnny Dangerously, Henry Bech, Owen Meany

q. Favorite Heroines in fiction: Weetzie Bat, Cheetaura on *Thunder Cats*, Anne of Green Gables, Jo March

r. Favorite painters and composers: Is this where I give up and admit that Proust was smarter than me. I like Mark Rothko and Bela Bartok, but I don’t think I could hold up my end of the conversation if you wanted to talk about them.

s. Your heroes in real life: Barack Obama, my brother, Bob Geldof

t. Your heroines in real life: my friend Val and my mom

u. What characters in history do you most dislike: Well, Hitler. I don’t really think of historical figures as “characters”, though.

v. Your heroines in history: Anne Frank, Harriet Tubman, Helen Keller

w. Your favorite food and drink: Coke Zero, breakfast cereals of all sorts, pears, chocolate, sushi of all sorts, eggplant in any form, bread of my own baking (ok, who am I kidding, most bread). I like food a lot!

x. Your favorite names: Jacob, Evan, Colleen–it is very helpful to be a writer when you like lots of names

y. What I hate the most: Boredom

z. World history character I hate the most: Some of these questions are repetitious. Still Hitler.

aa. The military event I admire the most: Operation Entebbe

bb. The reform I admire the most: Brown vs. the board of education.

cc. The natural talent I’d like to be gifted with: Musicality

dd. How I wish to die: When I am so old and have led such an interesting life that no one will be very sad, because I did everything I wanted to.

ee. What is your present state of mind: Thirsty, slightly fretful. If cd-launch-anticipation is a mood, then that too.

ff. For what fault have you most toleration: Confusion.

gg. My favorite motto. “This time of night’s for singing songs about the local news.”

August 14th, 2010

Pivot launches season 3

I heart the Press Club, their bartenders, and all the wonderful folks that made it out to the reading. It wasn’t even all that hot!

August 4th, 2010

Life–so much stuff!

So I went to Winnipeg! Did I mention everyone should go to Winnipeg? Oh yeah, I did! As it turns out, it’s equally fun the second time! Maybe even more so, because there was no work involved in this trip, just Olive Garden and old friends and new friends and a very pretty wedding with strawberry pie instead of wedding cake (genius!) and a very weird hotel with a two-story waterslide in the pool and fluorescent lights in the bedrooms. And Grand Beach at Lake Winnipeg and SO many kinds of ice cream, and hugs, and a very orderly airport (even though they confiscated my hair mousse). Oh, and cheap sushi. And a cat who could sit on command.

So, yes, I had a good weekend, though it kept me from blogging, which is ever sad. So I haven’t mentioned yet that my short story “Sweet” is now online at the Canadian Notes and Queries site. Or that my reading at Pivot at the Press Club is one week from tonight.

Or that that cartoon about never being a grownup that everyone is posting these days is very hilarious and yet nothing like me! Yes, I apparently am the only person in my age category who feels no solidarity with this woman. I *love* grocery shopping and going to the bank! I owe a few emails, it’s true, but they’re in my queue. I even occasionally look forward to cleaning stuff. Before i leave the house this morning, I’m going to scrub the sink and maybe the bathtub.

I’m totally not bragging–I’d be the first to admit that I use groceries and laundry as procrastinatory activities in order to escape doing, like, actual work on my writing. And I *still* find time to surf the internet like an attention-deficit squirrel on PCP. If my sink were dirtier and I had a less-full complement of groceries, I would get more/have to get more work done. And where’s the fun in that? I think this is an element those chore-avoiders haven’t caught onto yet!

July 12th, 2010

Home Hightlights

Vacation is over and I am back in beloved, smoggy Toronto. I will be, in rose-coloured fashion, concetrating on the belovedness and not the smog, nor will I dwell on the lack of ocean breezes and fresh lobster. Instead, I will focus my attention on:

–big pile o’mail! Highlights include box of free samples of soaps and shampoos, several New Yorkers, the issue of Canadian Notes and Queries that contains my short story “Sweet” (no relation to Dani Couture’s fantastic poetry collection by the same name), baseball tickets, a thing from the government saying I don’t owe them any more taxes, a separate thing from the government saying nor will they be giving me any money, a cheque from the government, and even an actual personal letter!
–raspberry bush o’erflowing with raspberries
–worst fears not realized: apartment not on fire, work projects not disastrous, G20 not ongoing, only one plant dead.
–a couple delightful reading invitations, including one for my beloved Pivot at the Press Club on August 11 (8pm). I haven’t read from Road Trips anywhere yet, so I guess this will be a launch of sorts! Hope you can come!
–hilarious friends, who have spent their time without me going to mustache contests and discussing the merits of accidental death and dismemberment insurance.
–TTC–no, really, I’ve missed it!

July 6th, 2010

Halifax Highlights

I went to Halifax for just shy of 48 hours, so all impressions are non-representative and possibly erroneous, but I really did like it. For so short a stay, I managed to rack up a lot of delightful impressions. In no particular order:

–The Halifax Public Gardens are what they sound like–a big pretty park filled with elaborate flowerbeds and little rivlets, ponds, and lawns. So pretty, it smells really good, and I can’t think of a Toronto equivalent. Also, apparently where they filmed those sketches of the two old ladies walking and snarking on This Hour Has 22 Minutes back in the day.
–Fiddlers at the waterfront. I suppose is a Maritime stereotype, but it is awfully pleasant to listen to the music while you are strolling along eating your Cows ice cream (strictly a PEI product, but available in Halifax and equally enjoyable there).
–The waterfront! Giant blue wave/tongue sculpture, happy roaming crowds, scampering children, boats coming in and out, peanut-butter-company-sponsored person in bear costume (might not be a permanent fixture). Touristy? Hells yeah, but so delightful on a sunny Saturday afternoon after days of rain and chill.
–The nice crewpeople on the My Summer Bay deepsea fishing boat. I like boats, but was was scared of the ladder (it had a missing rung) and they were very patient with me.
–Little boy who staggered across the sand towards his beckoning mother at Point Pleasant Park, calling plaintively, “What kind of sandwich is it?”
–McNab Island is not strictly in Halifax but just visible from from the harbour. It is where the My Summer Bay took us, and it is also delightful (once you struggle up the ladder to the dock). About 3 hours of (admittedly lackadaisical) hiking barely scratched the surface of all the woods and beach there.
–Oatcakes!!! I had experienced something I thought was an oatcake in the past, and it tasted approximately like a limp whole-wheat dinner roll. A genuine Nova Scotia oatcake is like a chewy, not very sweet giant oatmeal cookie. Or maybe not always: I only had two from an ice-cream shack down by the water, and three more from Second Cup (shared; over the course of several days; ok, it was something of an oatcake binge). I have heard rumour of a crispy type of oatcake I would like to experience as well. And then I will try to find a recipe (any advice, blog readership?) and attempt to transport this wonderful phenomenon back to Ontario.
–The very sweet bartender at Pogue Fado who said there were no servers on and therefore no table service on Sunday night, then proceeded to serve all the tables all by herself. Thanks!
–Silky orange cat encountered in the parking lot of our inn, who wanted nothing more than his belly rubbed and wasn’t too proud to ask for it.

It was a really great time, and I’m not even counting the Peggy’s Cove excursion and the various nice meals and the conversations eavesdropped upon, and the unusually large seagulls. I hope to get back soon.

PS==I also was in Moncton for a night, and had an equally delightful time, but feel unqualified to comment upon the actual city. This is because all I did was attend a 12 hour house party, sleep, and then eat breakfast at Hynes Restaurant (which was very good and crowded at 11am on a Tuesday, which tells you something or other about Moncton). So, while I can say nothing about the city of Moncton as a whole, I can say that the people at that particular party were awesome, though they could’ve been a little gentler about my failings at croquet.