writing and moods

So it's been a while since I posted. I haven't been overly busy - I had a couple of tight deadlines to meet at work, for sure, but since I hardly ever write when at work, I can't use that as an excuse - but I haven't had the requisite energy to put together a decent blog post during the evening hours. I also chalk it up to my mood: the frequency of my posts tends to go up when I'm in a more depressed state of mind, or at least when I'm going through some extreme emotions. My life right now, however, is rather dull. In a good way, thankfully. No high drama, no histrionics, but more tranquil satisfaction. It's a nice headspace that seems to suit me, at least for the time being.

It hasn't always been like that. In fact, I've just spent the better part of 45 minutes poking through my external hard drive and re-reading some blog writing from my past. (I was in search of my favourite post that I wanted to pass on to a friend of mine who never read the blog.) For those that don't know, I've had about four different blogs over the years, with my original 2005 Procrastination Nation blog standing as perhaps my finest of all. I certainly had more energy back then for writing, but that's directly related to my emotional state at the time: I was going through a serious break-up, and then re-entering the dating world. Is it any wonder I had a lot on my mind to share? (I was also probably more into sharing back then. I've become more gun shy about revealing too much of me on the web.)

In some ways I miss having that energy and will to write and share my life - I'm proud to say it was a popular site - although I don't necessarily miss the turmoil that accompanied it. I'm better off in 2009 than I was in 2005. I'm happier, and more importantly I'm more content. Still, it's nice to revisit some of those old posts. For those that are interested, this is the kind of stuff I was writing:

At work the other day, I was reminded of a scene from Carol Shields’ The Stone Diaries. I don’t actually remember much about the book – I think I enjoyed it, but it doesn’t resonate. (Her last novel, Unless, left a greater impact, probably because a big chunk of it took place in Toronto.) But what I do remember is the two pages or so where the narrator, Daisy, lists all the things that she’s never done in her life. (I don’t have the book in the house to list them all, but I do remember one of the things she listed was oral sex.) From what I recall, she doesn’t register judgement on those things she’s missed out on, but simply notes them impassionately.

I’m in the mood to undertake a similar exercise. I’ll make two lists: the things that I’ve done that might be somewhat out of the ordinary (or at least memorable for me), and those that I’ve not done or accomplished. In some cases, I’ll provide a small explanation.

Things that I’ve done:

Held an Oscar; won three tennis tournaments; given multiple orgasms (or so I was told…); broken both my wrists (the right one one year, the left one the next); torn my rotator cuff in a bike accident; won a broadcast award in university; published approximately 400 articles (many of questionable quality); flown over the date line; paid for porn in a Japanese hotel; cheated on a partner (only once, and to my shame); spent New Year’s Eve alone; spent my birthday alone (and worried that I’ll be doing that this year); “made out” with a girl when I was 8 years old; travelled to almost every major American city; flown first class; finished in the top ten in scoring one year in hockey (when I was 10; I finished eighth); assisted on a championship-winning goal; thrown up from too much booze on someone else’s carpet; shot, processed and developed my own black and white photos; been hit in the balls with a tennis ball while playing goal in a street hockey game; hit someone in the balls with a slap shot in a street hockey game; cried at the end of the film Fields of Dream (it’s the whole “father-son” thing); had three one-night stands.

Things I haven't done:

Gone bungee jumping or sky diving; had a threesome; read Moby Dick, War and Peace or Ulysses; gone skinny dipping; made a woman pregnant (at least as far as I know); had anal sex; travelled to India, New Zealand or Argentina (three places I’d like to visit); used any drug harder than hash; seen a dead person at an open-casket funeral.

--

Re-reading this, I wonder if this was a draft. After all, the list of things I haven't done seems awfully small! More important, I can actually cross three things off the list and add them to things I've accomplished (travelling to Argentina is one; I'll allow others to speculate on the other two). Also, maybe it's time to get back to that type of confessional writing. Of course it won't be that scandalous: after all, nobody's here reading!

Revisiting, reevaluating

There are two themes to my reading this year. The first is that I've been reading a lot of "big" books. That was especially true early in 2009 when I read Roberto Bolano's 2666 and Tolstoy's (no first name necessary) Anna Karenina, pretty much back to back. I used to joke that I have the attention span of a gnat (without knowing, of course, if a gnat indeed has a limited attention span; but it sounded good), and that I was never much good at reading anything above, say, 300 pages. Although I've read large-ish tomes in the past - Norman Mailer's Executioner's Song comes to mind (all 1000 pages or so of it!), and as a teen I read Stephen King's massive It (it was a b-day gift from my parents, who figured because I enjoyed reading that I'd like the book that was #1 on the best-seller's list that year) - I tend toward more manageable works. You know, the ones around 200 to 250 pages.

I expanded my horizons this year though and pulled off the shelf some larger works. Bolano's 2666 was a no-brainer. Since devouring his Savage Detectives (yes, it's a long novel!) during the 2007 xmas season, I was hooked on the guy's work. I bought 2666 (at my local bookstore - remember to support your local book shop) about a week after it was released, with the intent of saving it for the 2008 xmas season when I had two full weeks off to devote to nothing more than reading and loafing (two of my fave activities). What a joy it was to spend time in Bolano's world for approximately 950 pages. (I can't fact check the exact page count; I've lent the book to a friend.) And reading Anna Karenina ... well, what could I possibly add to the far-more intelligent insights already out there on the novel? As I've said many times since: "That Anna Karenina, I think it's a classic."

Which brings me to the second theme of my reading year: re-reading. After I finished 2666, and after reading an article (sorry I can't link to it since I don't remember where I saw it) that suggested a clue to the 2666 title could be found toward the end of Savage Detectives, I decided to re-read Savage. Although I consider myself a somewhat-serious reader, I've never been one to re-read a work. My argument? There are far too many books to read once, so why bother picking up something I've already finished?

Upon reflection, and as I continue to read for the second time the wonderful first Zuckerman trilogy (+ the final Zuckerman book, Exit Ghost, which I'm about halfway through) by Philip Roth, I realize how shortsighted this "no re-read" strategy is. The Zuckerman books mean so much more to me now than they did on my first read over 10 years ago. For one, I'm in a better space to better understand the works - I have more life experience (I almost used the word "maturity," but fear it might be a misuse of that word...), for one, and I'm far-more self-reflective. The novels speak to me in ways they couldn't when I first read them while in my early 20s. The reading experience is totally different - it's more fulfilling in so many ways.

All hail to the re-read!

Thoughts on, among other things, poetry

From Nicholson Baker's The Anthologist:

Tim leaned forward. "I work away at this book, and I describe how the Queen oversaw this huge system of plunder and destruction that wrecked people's lives all over the globe, and I've raked together all this knowledge, and I enjoy doing it because I feel I'm getting at the truth-"

I nodded.

"But it means so much less to me," Tim went on, "than if I were sitting on a couch talking to a woman of grace and intelligence who was wearing an attractive sweater."

*****

This passage is a nice summation of my own thinking. That, on one hand, I love the idea of the life of the intellectual - pursuing knowledge for knowledge's sake, to mine books and other sources to reveal a new truth, some new understanding about the world, about ourselves, about me. Yet, all that pales in comparison to just hanging out with a wonderful woman on an autumn evening, an open bottle of wine at the ready, to share stories of our respective days, trade tales of our lives lived, revealing our secrets and passions. Can this same level of intimacy be found within the covers of a book?

That said, I finished the Baker novel a few days ago. Sure, it was somewhat slight - more a novella, and without much narrative thrust - but still great fun. I haven't read a Baker novel for many years - the last was most likely The Fermeta, at least ten years ago. (And who can forget his classic "phone sex" novel Vox, which I read at a necessary time in my life: when I was single and going through a dating drought.) I was reminded, reading The Anthologist, how funny he can be. Some of his throwaway lines had me laughing aloud with delight. Also, it's fairly difficult to dislike a book that is so passionate about poetry.

I have an interesting relationship with poetry. For years, I never really "got" it. It seemed impenetrable, or a form of language that was beyond my understanding, like hieroglyphics. (I certainly was quite lousy writing it as well!) Still, I've flirted with poetry at various times: I went through an ee cummings phase when I was in my last year of undergrad (I used a poem to help woo a woman, which was quite wonderful). And then I read some Rilke after reading the wonderful Letters to a Young Writer. Even music lyrics, which many say is our first exposure to poetry, didn't draw me in. I love listening to the rhythm of lyrics, but I never really read them. But it's only in the last few years, and largely through my work, that I've started to really make sense of poetry. My mind can now better decipher the language of poetry, that I'm more attuned to it. I now buy the occasional book of poetry (most recent purchase: Don McKay's Night Vision) and even dabble with it in my journal (although I'm still a terrible poet). Still, despite this newfound appreciation and understanding, it's doubtful you'll find me at a poetry reading anytime soon. I'm not sure I'm ready to take that leap.

In other news, I'm off to Montreal later this week, ostensibly for a meeting, but mostly to bum around for a few days. I was born in la belle province and lived there for many years. Even though it doesn't feel like I'm going "home" when I venture to Montreal - my life is decidedly in Toronto - it does feel like a return to my roots. (I still have a few friends there as well.) It's also been ages since I took the train, so that should be fun too (despite the inevitable delays).

the return

(Photo taken during a trip through the Andes.)

So I'm back - been home for a week, actually, but it's taken me much of that time to readjust back to a routine. Thankfully, the two-week vacation felt like a long two weeks, which I take as a sign that it was a restful respite. For those curious: yes, do put Argentina on your list of places to visit. (Do others create those lists? Argentina was long on mine. Other locales still on that list: Brazil, South Korea, New Zealand, Greece.) It's a wonderful country, one I'm sure I'll be revisiting in the next decade or so as there's just way too much to see in two weeks. I felt we barely scratched the surface, although that's largely because we decided we didn't want to be on the move too much. As a result, we stayed a full week in Buenos Aires (in a fantastic studio apartment to boot in a great neighbourhood), after which we made our made to the Mendoza region. Anyway I don't want this to be a travelogue - I've already bored enough people with tales of our trip.

Whenever I'm travelling, I always vow to change some of my habits and routines upon return. I try to set achievable goals, usually revolving around making better use of my free (ie., non-work) time. When I travel, I tend to take note of how others live. In Argentina (in fact, in most places I've visited outside of North America), there seems to be greater emphasis on socializing (or reading or whatever) over coffee at a cafe. I love cafe culture: the social part, sure, when I'm with a friend, but I also love to carve out time by myself, lingering over a coffee or beer with a book or a journal. It's something I tended to do much more when I was in my early 20s and living alone for the first time in the city. Sadly, it's also something I've got away from over the past few years. I can't even pinpoint a reason - maybe it's because there sometimes seems to be too much demand on my time that I seek out solitude within the confines of my apartment instead. (Not to mention that I've been running more after work rather than in the mornings, although with the time change this weekend it should be easier - and brighter! - to hit the streets and the park in the a.m.) I want to get back to that "me" from my early 20s. It shouldn't be too difficult: a quick walk to a local cafe or bar after work, with book and journal in my (new leather, bought in a Buenos Aires market!) bag is an easy task. I'll let you know how I progress.

Speaking of books, read the new Bolano, The Skating Rink, while in Argentina, which was short and wonderful. Also re-read Philip Roth's The Ghost Writer, part of my plan to re-read the first Zuckerman trilogy. (I ploughed through Zuckerman Unbound last week. I'm going to read couple of new books, Nicholson Baker's The Anthologist and Atwood's Year of the Flood, before I tackle The Anatomy Lesson.) I'm going to write about re-reading in another post since my experience with The Ghost Writer was quite different this time around than first reading it about 15 years ago. It's about being a new level of life and maturity to the work.

bon voyage!

I'll be in a couple of weeks!

Notions

Every so often, I get these notions. Once, many years ago when I worked at home as a freelance writer, I had this idea that I'd listen to my entire CD collection from A to Z (yes, at one time my CDs were in alphabetical order; they're still sort-of in that order, but not quite): so start with a CD I picked up in Prague at this jazz club (it was a collection of live songs played at the club), and end with John Zorn's incredible Spy vs. Spy. I don't remember how far I got - the optimist in me likes to think that I made it to at least Vic Chesnutt's About to Choke, but I fear I only made it as far as, say, The Beatles' White Album - but it was a futile attempt. Who knows, perhaps I might revive that challenge. (I can always attempt it on my iPod, although I tend toward the shuffle feature when listening to music on it.)

I have a new goal: to watch every film listed on Sight and Sound's top film list from 2002. Quixotic? Perhaps. I could make it easy on myself and confine myself to the Top Ten critics' and directors' lists, but that seems too easy. (I've also seen most of them - just missing Lawrence of Arabia from the directors' list, Sunrise and Battleship Potemkin from the critics' list.) To get me going, I figured I'd rewatch most of the top ten, so I took out the DVD of Citizen Kane from the library. It's been about a decade since I last saw the film, so it was great to revisit. (It also came with the DVD of The Battle Over Citizen Kane, which was interesting.)

So how am I going to attack the Sight and Sound list? Not quite sure yet, actually. I haven't had much success going from A to Z with music, so it's probably not the best approach. I think I'll just do it randomly: print the list out and cross out films when and after I seen them. I'll do it by whim. If all goes well, watch this space for updates.

TGIF

A rare Friday evening post! I'm actually waiting for the lovely A. to brighten my apartment - she's probably close by now, shifting her way through the rain on the QEW - and since I'm importing some CDs to iTunes (in a google chat conversation with M. this morning, I realized my iPod was missing some essential albums, including John Coltrane's Blue Train and Charlie Parker's wonderful Dial recordings) I figured I'd jot down a few thoughts.

My thoughts, not surprisingly, revolve around my upcoming vacation and trip to Argentina. In exactly one week, we should be at the Miami airport, awaiting our overnight flight to Buenos Aires. (Amazingly, my close friend D. left today for South America, to Bolivia on a trek. And with Rio winning the 2016 Olympics - well, South America is obviously the place to be right now.) A friend said to me the other day, "You always seem to be going away," but I had to remind her that I actually haven't had an extended vacation (ie., anything over a four days) since I was in Portugal last Spring (and when I say "last Spring," I mean 2008.) And that was only for 10 days - this is the first time in many years I'm taking a full two weeks to travel.

A few people have asked, "Why Argentina?" My response: "Why not Argentina?!" I've long been enamoured of the idea of travelling to Buenos Aires, although I can't pinpoint why. It's not like I've read Borges, for example. Yet the city, and the country, has long had a hold on me. Maybe it stems from an article I wrote about 7 years ago on the film industry in Argentina, when one of the people I interviewed said to me, "Come to Argentina!" He said I could get a wonderful steak dinner, replete with a bottle of wine, for about $10. (That was around the time the Argentinian peso was devalued, so my guess dinner is going to be more expensive in 2009 - although I've been told it's still going to be fairly inexpensive. Argentina sounds like a very meat-intensive country.)

Let's face it: I need to get away. The lovely A. probably more so! She says it make take her a few days to decompress (she's had a stressful summer) which may mean a day or so by myself, haunting the various cafes. (We've rented an apartment for the first week, which should help with the decompression.) Not to mention checking out this book store. I'm also going to give this urban running tour a go, even though it seems terribly overpriced. (It's rated #1, however, on trip advisor's things to do in Buenos Aires.)

Those looking for postcards - and really, who doesn't want a postcard written while I'm sitting in some wonderful Buenos Aires cafe, sipping a coffee and/or beer - you know where to find my e-mail to send your address.

The lovely A. is now here, so I will sign off...