Daily Log, Mark number number number beepy noise.

Just looking at the time as I start to write this.
It is almost 11:11, which has managed to remain a special time for me.
It's god damn true, really special sometimes. I just can't hide it.

Anyways.

For anyone interested.

I've been doing some reading for the OAR - OTTAWA ARTS REVIEW.
They just had a very cool fund raiser on Feb 13th and their new issue is hitting the Ottawa area very soon. Also note, that their content is being broadcasted globally via the world wide web at http://www.review.artsuottawa.ca/

It will be worth checking back now and again.
Part of the great literary community of Ottawa and Canada.

Yes Canada has some great stuff.

A couple of Canadian recommendations for the day. Really obvious but fun stuff.
Al Purdy - Attempt
Al Purdy - Home Made Beer
Lorna Crozier - 0
Lorna Crozier - Getting Pregnant

Both have many other great poems. If you do not at least know this two reknowned Canadian poets, then you should get off your wonderful bum (all bums are wonderful) and have a read at them. I was quietly informed yesterday (that recently) that their works are hard to find on-line, as there is a movement to keep Canadian literature in print, and out of digitalised format for now. Not sure if that's due to tradition or respect, or because poets have to sell whatever they can to increase the modest income.

Also on the lierary radar. Tobias Wolff - Awake. I had to read this to help out a friend but it turned out to be quite stunning, though simple read. Don't let the douche bag tone of the first little bit get to you. The character, well, in my opinion, is a bit of a doucebag, but an interesting one.

It also mentions having sex a few times for those of you who need more of a thrill to get you motivated *whistle* grrr ooooh. I'm getting excited just pretending to be excited... ooooh... ahhh..

Now I'm distracted.

Good reading all.

Matthew

Inter Discourse

-Rant

intransitive verb
1 : to talk in a noisy, excited, or declamatory manner
2 : to scold vehemently
transitive verb
1 : to utter in a bombastic declamatory fashion

-Discourse

1archaic : the capacity of orderly thought or procedure : RATIONALITY
2: verbal interchange of ideas ; especially : CONVERSATION
3 a: formal and orderly and usually extended expression of thought on a subject
b: connected speech or writing
c: a linguistic unit (as a conversation or a story) larger than a sentence
4obsolete : social familiarity
5: a mode of organizing knowledge, ideas, or experience that is rooted in language and its concrete contexts (as history or institutions)

Interactive, interconnected, discourse, inter nos.

I think somebody mixed up their prefix in the grammar books.
Would you like to communicate via inter . . .

Well, of course!

Sometime inter vivos.

A Couple Of Things

I'm just having a few moments of reflection on the nature of a blog.

I was just writing something to put up here, but the reality is that I have to get to work on things that pay bills, fill my tummy, pay for my way from here to there, and let me lavish my attentions on those I love.

Needless to say, I think I may have been going about this all wrong.

The daily form of interaction that makes up a blog has been lacking.

I have only been posting odd bits of writing that consist of rants and social commentaries.

So I will, unless I get bored or don't care, post more frequently, less formally.
I will also try to integrate a bit more with the Ottawa writing community. Give them the odd shout out.

I am also considering a little reshaping of the page... as much as I like the Cookie Monster, he's just not doing it for me.

Check out today's bit of fun, coming in the next few minutes.

Matthew

Walk Well

Really, this has nothing to do with walking.

Walking along the other day, coming back from Opera, where I had just had a very vigorous and successful night of vociferous vocalising, I found I had a certain spring in my step. My legs were swinging out in front of me just a little bit more than usual, gaining, I am supposing, a few more inches on each stride than I would with my usual side. And so I was propelled along on my speedy stroll, in a very relaxed and elated manner. There was no more effort than usual, but I knew, be it by the whisps of wind that wandered over my face, or by feeling of solid connection that thrummed up through my legs, all the way, to my stomach, and heart, I do not know… but I knew! I could feel it in my ass.

It is a very old adage. Whatever you do, is worth doing well. And in my case, it seemed to spread like some miraculous disease. I sang well, and that gave me joy. That joy propelled my legs along with a youthful vitality I have rarely known, which gave me further joy. I then got home, felt happy, talked to my girlfriend happily, which gave me further joy, and even though she was nearly in a comatose stage of sleep, this did not bother me, and I was happy to kiss her goodnight and let her sleep, while I, still carried along, I drew for the first time in years. First a couple of doodles, something slightly romantic, as my mind was full of girlfriend thoughts; then some cool guys smoking; and finally a very detailed sketch of Mordecai Richler’s face, who’s book was sitting near by, with a very expressive snapshot of his ugly mug on the back cover.

I slept like a baby.
I have been walking for years, but I usually walk quite slowly. I am just a little fellow. When I try to walk quickly, I find I get shin splints. I never knew why.

I was walking wrong. I was trying to walk fast instead of walking fast. Leaning forward and motoring away with my legs did no good. Relaxing back, and swinging my legs out, planting my feet firmly on the ground, getting a good grip, rather than trying to lightly brush over the world, escape its gravity, rather than embrace it warmly… with my feet… this was the way.