art, link letter

Clint Burnham is in from Vancouver for the Fictitious Reading Series on Sunday. We had breakfast at the Lakeview Diner and then went to a couple of galleries and a CD shop. He has a big beard now, though he's not exactly ZZ Top material. Yet. Great to see him.

Meanwhile, Dana is spending her last day in London, England, hitting the Tate Modern and other stuff. She's been there a week and has apparently had an amazing time: met all sorts of new people, saw good art, ate Indian food, caught up with Toronto friends who've moved to London. She's very excited about the place. I'm very excited for her.

Tuesday night I went to the Lexiconjury for readings by Stan Rogal, Louis Cabri, and Nathalie Stephens. Last fall, I got in trouble on the Lex listserv by accusing the series of being "too cool," or something like that. Anyway, while so many wonderful people do show up, and so many of the readings are so good, I just cannot take the steady dose of irony and cockiness. It's especially apparent in the open mike, and when people aren't being ironic and cocky, it's only because a few have chosen to resist that, or defy it. That said, it was nice to hear Cabri read, though not an experience I'd like to repeat. Rogal did a pretty good reading, though with a lot of joking/mocking about writers who've killed themselves. I think some people were offended by that, but my interpretation was that he is pissed off by suiciders and has decided to mock the practice as protest. Stephens read well, too: hot boy sex in a book-length homage to Andre Gide. Gorgeous new book from Jay MillAr's BookThug.

I left feeling a little miserable and walked around for two hours before I found a suitable place to eat some Chinese noodles with veggies and tofu.

On Monday, I presented my first installment of the New York School of Poetry workshop at This Ain't. I was really, really anxious about it. It's not a workshop primarily about writing, but about exploring the works of a movement, and I didn't know if I was the one to facilitate such an event. But it went really well. Good group of very interested people, including three friends.

It's tough to type when you're eating cheesies, because you have to keep wiping your orange fingertips on your pants or some other handy bit of fabric before you hit the keyboard again. If I could eat them through a straw, it would be a superior experience, and more economic, typing-wise. Actually, they are Cheetos, the crunchier variation that I favour.

I will try to blog more regularly.

I will try to blog more regularly.

I will try to blog more regularly.

Over and out.