I survived the Kootenay Pass. I'd been dreading it all week, but I survived. Before I left New Denver, Jeff and Alison called to tell me there was an alternate route: a ferry from Nelson, and then a different, windy highway. Just knowing I was actually making a choice really helped: I opted for the Pass.
Luckily, this time there was no snow. Not like last year, when a beautiful, sunny day below turned into a mild snowstorm up in the mountains, and slush, and slippery roads. This time, too, I focussed on the line in the middle of the highway and never looked out at the precipice or the mountains around me. I was tense, vertiginous, and chest-tightened, but the worst of it seemed to go by in about five minutes and then I was already on the gradual descent.
At Jeff and Alison's, Alison was cutting her kids' hair. I asked if she'd but mine too. So my first act in Kimberley was to get a haircut. Pretty thorough one, too. And then, after an excellent curry meal, Jeff and I headed to the school and did some photocopying for today's workshop, and then to the strange space in the local museum where the workshop will be held, where we set up the tables in an as unboardroom-like manner as we could. Outside our workshop door is a big stuffed bear, killed years ago by some little kid. Inspiration!
Got to hear tales of last week's launch of radiant danse uv being, the amazing bill-bissett-homage anthology that Jeff and Rox edited and published through Nightwood. There will be a Toronto launch on June 1 at Clinton's.
Today's workshop goes from 9 till 3, with about 20 kids, most of whom I've never worked with before. Jeff gave me zines by a bunch of them (he assigns zine-making in his classes!) who had pirated my poems, which was pretty cool.
Saturday's work on the novel was extensive, but I ended up deciding my book is crap. Oh, I'll still finish it.
Over and out.
newsflash: the workshop was a smash! kids are lined up at the door to buy stuart ross hair clippings. one student ripped out our caragana bush, just to get a better spot in line. they're scaling pipes, burrowing under the foundation, pounding their heads against siding, hoping to get the last cut: the downy hairs at the back of your neck.
ReplyDeletedan moe is raking it in,
selling corndogs.