June 11, 2007
Unbooks
Though I do love books, I have a particular aversion to books that aren’t actually books. I am unfond of gift books, decorative books, foam books, faking books, and faux books. I do believe that these inferior items unjustly ride on the coattails of a sacred object. And so it was quite remarkable when I fell in love with this treasure up in the Lakes, though the price tag put it out of my league. 
I suppose I have a particular aversion to books that aren’t books, unless the book happens to be a teapot.
May 31, 2007
The Printers
It strikes me that I’ve not yet given credit to UK indie band The Editors for their rather bookish name (nor for their melodramatic tendencies, lyrically speaking). And their name makes me wonder what other bands might be out their awaiting rock stardom: The Typesetters, The Copy-Editors, The Proof Readers, The Printers? The fun could, quite possibly, never ever stop.
May 28, 2007
Literary Hot Dogs
Shot by Ms. Puddle Press, intrepid spotter of collisions between the literary world and the hotdog community, “Mrs. Dalloway’s Hot Dog Stand”. Turns out it’s famous, and read all about it here.
May 24, 2007
Sense
Have you submitted your workplace haiku to Bookninja? I did today, inspired by the haiku they have posted (and by the workplace, of course). Read them here, including a few by my favourite poet Jennica Harper. And then submit your own!
Heather Mallick underlines why I perpetually sing her praises with her piece on challenging authority. Oh, when she writes, “I believe education is important for its own sake. It is the basis of civilization. I especially believe in the teaching of history./ I am an elitist. I want people to be well-read, to value books. Here’s my reasoning. Educated people are more likely to deny authority. People who don’t read don’t have an intellectual storehouse to help them think independently. They do what they’re told. They have an endless desire to please those in authority; they don’t know they don’t have to.” Has anybody in the whole world ever had more sense?
Maud Newton points me toward the following: the hierarchy of adjectives, which are rules you don’t even know you know; and a poem by Grace Paley. And it was my coworker (since we’re giving props here) who showed me this article on the evolution of phonebook catagories. No more shall you be able to look up a buttonhole maker, or carbon paper.
Today I met Erica G walking down Palmerston. I was on Harbord, reading and walking, and she pulled her own book out of her bag, which we discussed as we crossed the street, and then we said our farewells. I think it would be lovely if we all starting asking, “So what are you reading?” instead of “How are you?” when we met. The conversations might be better.
May 22, 2007
Worrying
I mentioned that I recently unearthed the “novel” I wrote when I was eleven, and a big problem I am having with the novel I am reading at the moment is that it utilizes many of the same plot devices. And I was not a particularly prodigious eleven year old, no matter how hard I tried. Hmm.
May 21, 2007
Today at College and Borden Streets
Normally I don’t condone graffiti, but I am a little bit sympathetic to the message being conveyed here.
May 15, 2007
'Ave a cuppa tea
It’s Right Said Fred Day over here at Pickle Me This. Yes indeed, we’re back in the world of 9-5 and therefore online minutiae is taking over. It all starts with a cheesy sixties compilation we were listening to at work, which was more than a bit British and contained the novelty song “Right Said Fred” by Bernard Cribbins. No one had ever heard this song before, but I quickly fell in love with it. And so we wikipedia’d our way over to the Right Said Fred (the bad early 90s duo) page to see if there was any relation, and lo and behold there was. And that page brought all the memories back; who remembers the follow up hits? We find the videos: Deeply Dippy and Don’t Talk Just Kiss. How about Brian Orser skating to Deeply Dippy?! And while we were over at ye olde Youtube, we plug in Bernard Cribbins’ “Right Said Fred” to see what we come up with, and we get results. This video contains a recording of the song that started it all, and is three small and very adorable children acting the whole thing out. It’s very cute. And then what do you know? It was home time.
May 14, 2007
Glorious youth circa late 1990s
Fun was had! Mucho family, and lobsterfest with my favourite cousins. Saturday my dad took us shopping for baseball gloves (we love catch) and now we’re all kitted up for the big leagues. Last night we hit downtown Peterborough with Mike my best friend 6 and hilarity reigned. I drank too much beer and a tall tri-coloured drink, behaved like an adolescent and was ill the next morning. Recovering just in time to have my Muv and Farve take us out for brunch in celebration of my finishing school, and we sat with a view of the lake and the food was delish. We had such a good time with my parents all weekend, but then it made Stuart miss his. Thankfully we’ll be seeing them three weeks from tonight.
My mom is moving, and so I had to do something about the last few boxes of my stuff in her house. One looked vaguely interesting, so I brought it home. Sorting through tonight, and I find the most extraordinary things: the “novel” I wrote when I was eleven, which was really long and all about dragons and princesses and the kind of story I never had any interest in, but precocious children in other books always wrote about things like that, so I thought it was the way. Story books I made throughout elementary school (I had an early gift for the rhyming couplet, but not so much for staying inside the lines). Essays from grade nine English (“teenagers today are too worldy for religion” said I). Terrible articles I used to write for the “teen” page in our local paper (“violence is something that affects people in many places”). I was pleased (and surprised) to find out that my grade thirteen and first year uni English papers were not as terrible as I had feared, and that I did not entirely make my TA’s want to kill themselves. Oh the list goes on, pages and pages and treasure. But the best is an entire journal of Bad Teenage Poetry, written between 1995-1998. Back when nobody understood me, I was jealous of my best friends, and thought that poetry had to be obligatorily weird (“I found the meaning of life/ in my glass of orange juice”). Oh, but the angst I knew.
Your knife has dug deeper/ into me than any other/ I feel the metal slice/ cut me and I bleed/ You use your knife for a purpose/ but you didn’t succeed/ I am not destroyed.
And can you believe that that actually is edited, as the original was so awful that any poetic sensibility I have come to possess wouldn’t allow me to transcribe it as is? Oh what fun. And all of this has underlined why I have zero interest in Facebook.
May 14, 2007
Flying the Flag
Though there was something vaguely attractive about the melody, I thought that the UK’s entry for last year’s Eurovision was stunningly terrible. But then I heard this year’s. A new standard has been set for atrocious.
May 8, 2007
Hollaring Comrade
The girl walking across Queen’s Park shedding tears over the death of a man in a book? She would be me. And that book (84 Charing Cross Road) was absolutely lovely.
PS- Anyone know what “book post” is? It sounds like the most wonderful system in the whole world.
UPDATE: Someone has made an 84 Charing Cross Road website!
