June 26, 2005
Gleanings
We’ve been taken it easy after a rather crazy week. I’ve been indulging in the papers of course, and EastEnders, which has been particularly gripping of late. Friday’s episode made me cry. I have been racing through the short fiction in yesterday’s Guardian Weekend. It’s brilliant. Have become really interested in poet Alice Oswald after reading http://books.guardian.co.uk/review/story/0,12084,1513704,00.html”>this poem yesterday. Annie Proulx on how the mythic Old West outweighs the historical. Salman Rushdie and various interpretations of truth. After purchasing our tiger book this week, I found on how photographs used to shape a public persona. Jenni Russell writes on a subject near to my heart– what becomes of a society that just stands by and watches violence happen to other people. Lynne Crosbie tunes into popular culture to try to understand one of Canada’s most infamous killers. The racist children’s book that remains a Japanese favourite- quite enlightning about the state of that nation. On the pointfulness of books pages. A profile of Moorish Girl, whose blog I enjoy. Margaret Atwood on Science Fiction.
Brighton inspired me in a way I’ve not been for ages, and now tons of ideas and projects are on the go. This week we’ll be busy packing to go, assembling our wedding album (we chose the photos today!), and living up all things British. It’s hard to believe there’s so little time left.
June 26, 2005
4 for 0
There was ample fretting the other day, as I conceded that I am unemployed and therefore can no longer indulge in overpriced magazines and new books, even if they are on at 3 for 2 at Waterstones. I accepted this in my grown-up way, and went about the day. Which ended with the gift of £20 from Paul for my birthday from amazon, and therefore I will soon be the proud owner of Case Histories by Kate Atkinson, Snow by Orhan Pamuk, Small Island by Andrea Levy and We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. Booklust satisfied.
June 21, 2005
Went to the chapel
Summer arrived in England on Saturday, just in time for our wedding. Photos are online here and we’re just thrilled with them. It was a wonderful day, more than we really allowed ourselves to wish for. We got up early, and the sky was grey. We were promised that the weather would clear when the tide turned, and it did. We were married at 11:15 am at the Blackpool Registry Office, and the ceremony was really nice. We wrote our own vows, and it was quite emotional. The only downside was the World’s Greatest Love Songs CD they kept putting on, and I kept turning off. They were blasting Percy Sledge, and then we were so close to “The Power of Love” by Jennifer Rush being the soundtrack of our marriage vows. Silence was preferable. After the ceremony, confetti was hurled, much to our amusement as the photos do attest. We went back to Stuart’s parents for lunch, the sun came out and five of our close friends joined us there with our families. We later went down to the Marine Hall here in Fleetwood to have photos taken in the park and on the beach. At five, we went to the reception venue to set up and guests began to arrive. It was a bit overwhelming to see people I hadn’t seen in ages, and really nice. The night went well- we were pleased with the buffet, everyone seemed to have a good time. After dinner, we had some beautiful speeches, and then we cut the cake. Following dessert, our first dance to “Flowers in the Window” by Travis and then onto the disco. Brian the DJ was amazing, and played all we wanted, including “Turn Me On” by Kevin Lyttle. Stuart also requested “Come Up and See Me (Make Me Smile)” by Cockney Rebel, which was well received. There was an appropriate amount of Europop and “Reach for the Stars” by S Club 7 went over a hit as usual. But then things did get out of control, and though I didn’t feel drunk at the time I must have been because I did do an interpretive dance to “Winds of Change” by Scorpions. The party ended at midnight, on a high note. There were anxious good byes. We stayed the night at the De Vere Hotel, which was quite un-Blackpudlian, which one really wants on their wedding night. It was really lovely. On Sunday, we were dead tired. Had coffee in Blackpool, while reading The Observer in the gorgeous sunshine. It was too early for the gross people to be out of bed and the town seemed quite pleasant. We met friends for lunch at Pizza Hut, which was the only eating establishment we knew of in Blackpool, and which I love. By mid-afternoon, we were barely conscious and the rest of that day was a blur. Yesterday, we went to Liverpool with my mom and sister, and my family went back to Canada this morning. Tomorrow we’re off to Brighton for three days for our honeymoon and we’re bringing the champagne we didn’t drink. We intend to get drunk on the train, and I am really looking forward to fun in the Sowf. On Monday, I am choosing my courses for university, next Thursday I am moving to Canada, and then in August I get to have a wedding reception again! Charmed life, lucky me.
June 16, 2005
Jitter bug
So we’re all a bit wound up. Why? I don’t know really. The weather forecast is good and so many friends are looking forward to it. But there is the matter of our rapidly dessimating guestlist. Every time the phone rings, I seize up in fear it will be another cancellation. So Stuart says now is the time we have to let go of the stress, and just enjoy ourselves no matter what happens. (I think he’s talking about me here). And so I will. Because my family is here and having a wonderful time, and because my in-laws have been so incredible to me, we’ve got peppermint tea on tap, and Blackpool Rock place settings and a gorgeous colour scheme, my dress is fantastic, I keep receiving cards and messages from friends and family that make me cry, and my groom is gorgeous. And I love him so immensely it swamps me. It’s when we’re about to go to sleep most nights that I feel it best, and I just hug him so tightly and remember how it feels with all of me because if I ever didn’t know any more, I just don’t know what I would do.
Two more days until Paul McCartney’s sixty fourth birthday.
June 14, 2005
See you soon…
My beloved Sara Cox is in The Guardian today, moaning quite wittily about men’s blindness to the wiles of women pushing prams. But beyond that, I have things to do and married to get. My parents arrive tomorrow and it will be a whirlwind from that point. Cross your fingers for smooth sailing.
June 13, 2005
An open letter to humanity
Dear Humanity,
When people lose weight, it is not polite to tell them that “quite frankly, you used to be quite plump before.” It’s just not, and there are no exceptions to this. In fact, when people have lost weight and you feel the need to comment on their appearence, which you needn’t necessarily, a simple “You look great” will suffice. And if you do say this to someone, they are completely justified in telling you that you look as much like a shrivelled up prune as you ever did.
Just a tip
June 13, 2005
My image
Don’t laugh, but I really like what Yoko Ono has to say about feminism, aging, wifedom and just life in general in this interview. It also recalls a few lines from her “Grapefruit” poems, with their “Imagine a raindrop”, imagine imagine theme. Which went on to be the song “Imagine” of course. But I just made the connection now that this idea of “imagine” is very much a Japanese product. In Japan, the English world “imagine” has a certain resonance. People are often reluctant to think outside their own experience, and “imagine” is this sort of magical buzzword that allows anyone creative freedom. If we are setting up a role-play and everyone was a bit confused, all it took was one person to say to me, “Imagine?” and I’d nod. And then they’d all say “Ah so so so” and the scene would flow. They also say it differently than we do- it’s like “image-in” rather than “imaa-gin” and when they speak of their own opinion or impression of something, they will say “My image is…”. There is a certain profundity to Japanese imaginings, one that we would be more inclined to give to realised visions. Part of this is because it takes such effort to get them, whereas we take it for granted. Also, in Japan, dreams unrealised are just sort of accepted as they are, and moreso precious for that.
Lionel Shriver, Orange Prize Winner, writes about how uncomfortable women are with naked ambition. I wasn’t prepared to like what she said. I personally find naked ambition tacky, and the reason most of this world is governed by scumbags. Anyone who feels they are entirely deserving of an honour will lack the humility to serve that honour respectfully. There was an article by Oliver James in the Observer Magazine yesterday about “imposter syndrome”, when a person “get[s] good exam results or do well at sport or art, they do not think of themselves as bright or creative and believe they have simply fooled people. They put subsequent professional success down to luck, contacts or having to work harder than others, rather than to their own mental capacities.” Apparently women are more likely to take on their neurosis than men, having a natural affinity for neuroses in general I believe, and being a bit less arrogant. I understand this. I am still waiting to hear from my graduate program to let me know I was admitted by an error, and am not in fact eligible to attend. I liked Shriver’s take on this though. First of all, she was talking about a contest. I think in a contest, it’s perfectly acceptable to want to win. That’s probably the point. In an election, however, a ride up a career ladder, or for a limited place in a grad program, I think one’s reasons for wanting to be there have to be more substantial than sheer ambition and you can’t just expect that you deserve it. An inflated sense of entitlement is not attractive. Perhaps I am overtly idealistic about this, but I think someone has to be. There needs to be a balance to what Oliver James talks about, and Shriver prescribes that. She writes of “acting like a man” when she admitted her ambition, and then of her competitors who “acted like women” when they shook her hand afterwards in congratulations. Everyone needs a bit of both. Ambition for the sake of ambition is deplorable, but humility for its own sake is not so admirable either.
Though Canadian Poet Wendy Morton’s ambition is a bit admirable. She barters poems for free flights.
June 12, 2005
New Sprint
I spent the entire weekend reading the newspaper and so. On the growing place for non-fiction in the world of creative writing. In books dubbed Eurocrime, continental slouths are all the rage. Living on the Seabed tells of losing first her husband then her daughter to cancer. I read an excerpt and found it really enlightening as to how you manage to have a life after tragedy. The excerpt is linked at the end of this article. On the rare perfect ending in a novel- he cites To The Lighthouse, which I agree with. On aliens in the arts throughout history. And I didn’t only read about books. On US sex offenders access to free Viagra. Tom Cruise is completely mental! I fear the Bob Geldof is losing it too. India Knight raises a good point:
Now, Bob is either a bona-fide saint or a slightly misguided person with a good heart and an alarmingly simplistic take on Africa, depending on your viewpoint. Either way, good on him, at least he’s trying. But I’m just wondering: if he can’t afford to have bands that aren’t stellarly successful, what exactly is he doing on the bill?
And finally, a brilliant profile of eight African women and their expectations of the G8 summit.
And really, that’s all I’ve done. Newspapers. Not that I’m complaining. Just apologising for being slightly boring.
