Nursing a cold, listening to Kings of Leon sipping Stag Hollow Pinot Noir, ostensibly writing. Dinner by the boys tonight—some kind of pork and pineapple stir-fry—which means a late dinner. Trying to teach Junior life skills. He is very adept at plastering poppy seed bagels with peanut butter or pouring out a bowl of Cheerios but preparing a meal is a bit of a challenge. It is entirely within his abilities, I am certain, which is not to say that he is very motivated. He does like to eat however, so I hope it dawns on him some day soon that we won’t be around forever to feed him and that learning to cook is in his own best interests.

Despite this nasty virus, I am working on poems for our most unusual art book, mine and Tina’s. I must admit to no real method. The work is getting done but I never believe, no matter how many poems I’ve written—that I can do it again. It feels like a hat trick, and of course highly anxiety inducing but if I persist in muddling through, I succeed. Tina digs them and that is the most important thing at this point.

Dreamed I was in a car with Josef at the wheel, a bear in pursuit, it’s giant furious furry head at Josef’s window. “What should I do?” “Keep driving!” I screamed. It was terrifying. We approached a bend in the road, could only turn left. It felt as though the bear would smash through the window and enter and eat us alive. Meanwhile the car is starting to head over a steep grade on the right. Jeez, talk about being between a rock and a hard head. That’s all I remember.

Happy New Year. Obama save us all. Man, he is wasting no time in making his mark on his first 100 days in office. I have a feeling that as savvy a politician as he is, he is also the real thing. I hope he is. I was talking to a friend recently, a rather embittered, alcoholic friend predicting Obama’s assignation or worse, inevitable downfall/betrayal. I said, “Look, there is always hope,” something I have always said, even before Obama, I swear. He accused me of spouting religious rhetoric. I swore it had nothing to do with organized religion and everything to do with tenacity, sheer and simple.  I am as tenacious as a pit bull. Saw an image somewhere, someone had Photo shopped Lincoln and Obama together and it seemed apt. I suppose if you’re going to be the first black president you are going to have to be a great president. He seems pretty determined to do that. Incredible really, his “meteoric rise” to the White House.

Jan. 26, 2009

Mini gala. Isn’t that an oxymoron? Kind of like jumbo shrimp? I had been feeling pretty good until I got hammered by Junior’s cold or flu or whatever it is. Ugh. I’m frustrated, had been doing so well so far this fall, winter. Guess it was bound to catch up with me, it’s been a bit of a rough patch, emotionally draining period, these past few months. So here I sit, Brinda at my feet, sage burning, heat pad on my lower back, Vicks-infused tissues at the ready, listening to the neighbour diligently working on his house despite the snow.

Took the truck into town yesterday to run errands only to have it die on me after leaving Tina’s place. We had just concluded a long-sought for and hard won meeting. I love going to her house. It always smells of cinnamon or cardamom. She bakes! Yesterday it was these crusty scone type things with cranberries. After a productive session, where we exchanged books and ideas, the damn truck was dead as a doornail when I tried starting it. So, I called BCAA, went back into the house to wait. Tina told me about some politics going down at the local Deep Cove art gallery of which she is a member. The former curator suing the board for wrongful dismissal. It reminded me of the bull crap that went down at the Edgewise ElectroLit Centre toward the end of my tenure. Triple A arrived and the guy predicted, the battery was running out of life and the jump-start on the family Volvo in the morning had helped to hasten its demise. Screwed up my day, lots of things on my list did not get crossed off.

PREVAIL

Brinkworthy.
Fallow.
Ruddy sheen,
wine splotchy
giraffe freckled legs
hackneyed off,
stalk breezy fools
through looby hollows.
Lured to mirages,
thrust toward blue, falling
into ocean or sky?
Whistling monkey mouth
kisses wifty brat
goodbye.
Sobering weather.
Bilabial balance.
Turbidity,
tension,
lies
gone.
Roles over,
wreck rose up
holy
to dance
through the mire.

**********************************************

Here are some notices I posted on Faceook yesterday. Might as well share them here as well:

AURAL Heather and HH latest news/Call for submissions-women artists

AURAL Heather’s “Sun Hee” is featured on the new Violet Femmes compliation launching at the end of this month:

Our kooky John Holmes referenced ode to my BFF Debby, “Three Blocks West of Wonderland,” has been selected by The Independent Coffee Network launching in Los Angeles in January 2009 as well. The network consists of flat screen TVs placed in independent coffee shops that are programmed with artistic video content and music.

The Toronto Quarterly-Issue Two is now in print and features an interview with me as well as “some great poetry from rob mclennan, Jared Smith, Puma Perl, Asher Ghaffer, Michael Thompson, Liz Worth, Melissa Moler Beery and many more. There are also interviews with Jessica Anya Blau and Richard S. Todd, as well, fantastic art from Laurie Lipton and Benoit Piret.”

And here is a Call for Submissions from the International Museum of Women that might be of interest to my fellow female artists working in all media:

Now accepting submissions for EXHIBITING YOU From January to September 2009, I.M.O.W. is Exhibiting You! As the museum prepares to debut a new online exhibition in October 2009, the I.M.O.W. Web site is showcasing the talents of our global online community. We’re looking for submissions that relate to I.M.O.W.’s mission to value the lives of women around the world. Submit your work for consideration and share your art, creative writing, journalism, music, audio, photography, video and animation with a global audience.