sunight

same story multiple rabbits
farmed and the scene reshot
three turns of the grinder
rock salt where none
was cooked with
the beginning is just
where words pick up the story
wine spilt is whining
and mud an elixer that binds
indifference no reason to go
outside for the weekend
a novel almost completely read
counter topped with dirty dishes
moonlight at its ebb
traffic signals for the absent
soup and haggis in the week after
no clothes until walking night
love across an ocean and seas
due east due west same latitude
flannel sheets sleep a comfort
pulled and torn subconsciously

T-shirt: Odawa Pow Wow
loc: ComCtr
temp:-4 C
sound: Jamiroquai, Travelling Without Moving

Noche Latina, Fredericton

The annual Noche Latino, will happen on Feb. 3rd, 2006, at Wilmot Church Hall (Carleton Street entrance), Fredericton, NB. The evening will feature a traditional Guatemalan meal (with vegetarian option), followed by entertainment. Dinner will be served at 6pm. Tickets are $10 for adults, $5 for children (5-12), $20 for families (two adults and two children). Tickets are available at Mazzuca's on York Street, True Food Organics on Charlotte Street, and at the door. Proceeds go to the New Hope Scholarship Fund for students in Guatemala.

The Silent Auction will include: Guatemalan shirt, HIJOS shirt, Guatemalan bag, 2 purses from Senegal, picture from Indonesia, wood carving from Haiti, wood carving of two llamas, HIJOS CD, wooden candleholder, framed event poster, Just Us Coffee, legal gift certificate, and much more . . .

The entertainment promises to be good with classical guitar, reggae, jazz and tango music as well as a demonstration of salsa dancing: three musical acts confirmed (Stephen Peacock, the Downtown Jazz Quartet, and the Tango Orchestra).

T-shirts: (1) Jack Kerouac, (2) Oakley: Guaranteed to rock your socks off!
loc: ComCtr
temp: 4 C
sound: The Crow soundtrack

one wing

Think I'd rather have a Moose Red, a Picaroon's Red, a Molson Export, rather than a Labatt's Blue. They're not really all in the same party pack but you can mix them together in the fridge or ice-filled bathtub. Of course, most people who know me here, who've seen me in my local, know that I'm a "bitter" man—Picaroon's Bitter, please.

The Picaroon's crew hanging 'round in the Taproom (live reggae every Wednesday nite, live bands other times). Taproom Mug Club coming soon. I was a member of the old Picaroon's Mug Club a decade ago. Darren Emenau / MNO Pottery, of Jones Creek, on the lower Saint John River, won their mug design competition so now he's in production. Can't wait.

Monday was the federal election. While the man in the above photograph was out creating a fashion trend in headwear, Canadians coast to coast to coast were voting for their local Member of Parliament.

When the ballots are counted and tabulated it appears that the largest minority of seats has switched from the Liberal party to the reformed Conservative party. Still doesn't put them in charge. The big challenge is to forge alliances to form the govenment. Big question is: "Can the right-wing enter and turn left to control the House?" That needs a majority of seats, of MPs of whatever stripe coming together.

The meetings have started in Ottawa. From Fredericton, I will watch and wait. I'll have a pint of Bitter and conversation. What happens in Otterwater, who forms the government, can and will have a direct impact on my life and on my long-time performance artist piece as a literary publisher. I did my part by voting. I'm not a political party member. Never have been. Don't think I even like the idea, but it does mean that my role in the decision-making stopped at the ballot box. It may not be enough.

T-shirt: 9th Annual Submerged Lands Conference
loc: comCtr
temp: -12
sound: Squirrel Nut Zippers, Hot

APB, 24 Jan 2006

Last night's Ashes, Paper & Beans radio show was all Canadian starting with the second half of the CD reading of Wilfred T. Grenfell's Adrift On An Icepan (Rattling Books)followed by recordings by several poets or musicians/ artists, most of who I know well—Sheri-d Wilson, Paul Dutton—or have met—Ahdri Zhina Mandiela and Bif Naked, during a SOCAN content monitoring and reporting time period at CHSR:

Sheri-D Wilson: "From Bunhead to Bard"
marc lemyre: "Toronto Love"
Paul Dutton: "Hiding"
Ahdri Zhina Mandiela: "Canefields"
Biff Naked: "Canadians"

T-shirt: CHRS: Fredericton's Alternative
loc: Com Ctr
temp: -4 C
sound: Tchaikovsky, "1812 Overture op. 49"

What tree did YOU fall from?

Find your birthday and then find the definition of your tree. This is really cool and somewhat accurate. Share it with all your friends, so they can find out what tree they fell from.

Dec 23 to Jan 01 - Apple Tree
Jan 01 to Jan 11 - Fir Tree
Jan 12 to Jan 24 - Elm Tree
Jan 25 to Feb 03 - Cypress Tree
Feb 04 to Feb 08 - Poplar Tree
Feb 09 to Feb 18 - Cedar Tree
Feb 19 to Feb 28 - Pine Tree
Mar 01 to Mar 10 - Weeping Willow Tree
Mar 11 to Mar 20 - Lime Tree
Mar 21 (only) - Oak Tree
Mar 22 to Mar 31 - Hazelnut Tree
Apr 01 to Apr 10 - Rowan Tree
Apr 11 to Apr 20 - Maple Tree
Apr 21 to Apr! 30 - Walnut Tree
May 01 to May 14 - Poplar Tree
May 15 to May 24 - Chestnut Tree
May 25 to Jun 03 - Ash Tree
Jun 04 to Jun 13 - Hornbeam Tree
Jun 14 to Jun 23 - Fig Tree
Jun 24 (only) - Birch Tree
Jun 25 to Jul 04 - Apple Tree
Jul 05 to Jul 14 - Fir Tree
Jul 15 to Jul 25 - Elm Tree
Jul 26 to Aug 04 - Cypress Tree
Aug 05 to Aug 13 - Poplar Tree
Aug 14 to Aug 23 - Cedar Tree
Aug 24 to Sep 02 - Pine Tree
Sep 03 to Sep 12 - Weeping Willow Tree
Sep 13 to Sep 22 - Lime Tree
Sep 23 (only) - Olive Tree
Sep 24 to Oct 03 - Hazelnut Tree
Oct 04 to Oct 13 - Rowan Tree
Oct 14 to Oct 23 - Maple Tree
Oct 24 to Nov 11 - Walnut Tree
Nov 12 to Nov 21 - Chestnut Tree
Nov 22 to Dec 01 - Ash Tree
Dec 02 to Dec 11 - Hornbeam Tree
Dec 12 to Dec 21 - Fig Tree
Dec 22 (only) - Beech Tree

YOUR TREE MEANS: (in alphabetical order)

Apple Tree (the Love)—quiet and shy at times, lots of charm, appeal, and attraction, pleasant attitude, flirtatious smile, adventurous, sensitive, loyal in love, wants to love and be loved, faithful and tender partner, very generous, many talents, loves children, needs affectionate partner.

Ash Tree (the Ambition)—extremely attractive, vivacious, impulsive, demanding, does not care for criticism, ambitious, intelligent, talented, likes to play with fate, can be very egotistic, reliable, restless lover, sometimes money rules over the heart, demands attention, needs love and much emotional support.

Beech Tree (the Creative)—has good taste, concerned about its looks, materialistic, good organization of life and career, economical, good leader, takes no unnecessary risks, reasonable, splendid lifetime companion, keen on keeping fit (diets, sports, etc.).

Birch Tree (the Inspiration)—vivacious, attractive, elegant, friendly, unpretentious, modest, does not like anything in excess, abhors the vulgar, loves life in nature and in calm, not very passionate, full of imagination, little ambition, creates a calm and content atmosphere.

Cedar Tree (the Confidence)—of rare strength, knows how to adapt, likes unexpected presents, of good health, not in the least shy, tends to look down on others, self-confident, a great speaker, determined, often impatient, likes to impress others, has many talents, industrious, healthy optimism, waits for the one true love, able to make quick decisions.

Chestnut Tree (the Honesty)—of unusual stature, impressive, well-developed sense of justice, fun to be around, a planner, born diplomat, can be irritated easily, sensitive of others feelings, hard worker, sometimes acts superior, feels not understood at times, fiercely family oriented, very loyal in love, physically fit.

Cypress Tree (the Faithfulness)—strong, muscular, adaptable, takes what life has to give but doesn't necessarily like it, strives to be content, optimistic, wants to be financially independent, wants love and affection, hates loneliness, passionate lover which cannot be satisfied, faithful, quick-tempered at times, can be unruly and careless, loves to gain knowledge, needs to be needed.

Elm Tree (the Noble-mindedness)—pleasant shape, tasteful clothes, modest demands, tends not to forgive mistakes, cheerful, likes to lead but not to obey, honest and faithful partner, likes making decisions for others, noble-minded, generous, good sense of humour, practical.

Fig Tree (the Sensibility)—very strong minded, a bit self-willed, honest, loyal, independent, hates contradiction or arguments, hard worker when wants to be, loves life and friends, enjoys children and animals, few sexual relationships, great sense of humour, has artistic talent and great intelligence.

Fir tree (the Mysterious)—extraordinary taste, handles stress well, loves anything beautiful, stubborn, tends to care for those close to them, hard to trust others, yet a social butterfly, likes idleness and laziness after long demanding hours at work, rather modest, talented, unselfish, many friends, very reliable.

Hazelnut Tree (the Extraordinary)—charming, sense of humour, very demanding but can also be very understanding, knows how to make a lasting impression, active fighter for social causes and politics, popular, quite moody, sexually oriented, honest, a perfectionist, has a precise sense of judgment and expects complete fairness.

Hornbeam Tree (the Good Taste)—of cool beauty, cares for its looks and condition, good taste, is not egoistic, makes life as comfortable as possible, leads a reasonable and disciplined life, looks for kindness and acknowledgment in an emotional partner, dreams of unusual lovers, is seldom happy with its feelings, mistrusts most people, is never sure of its decisions, very conscientious.

Lime Tree (the Doubt)—intelligent, hard working, accepts what life dishes out, but not before trying to change bad circumstances into good ones, hates fighting and stress, enjoys getaway vacations, may appear tough, but is actually soft and relenting, always willing to make sacrifices for family and friends, has many talents but not always enough time to use them, can become a complainer, great leadership qualities, is jealous at times but extremely loyal.

Maple Tree (Independence of Mind)—no ordinary person, full of imagination and originality, shy and reserved, ambitious, proud, self-confident, hungers for new experiences, sometimes nervous, has many complexities, good memory, learns easily, complicated love life, wants to impress.

Oak Tree (the Brave)—robust nature, courageous, strong, unrelenting, independent, sensible, does not like change, keeps its feet on the ground, person of action.

Olive Tree (the Wisdom)—loves sun, warmth and kind feelings, reasonable, balanced, avoids aggression and violence, tolerant, cheerful, calm, well-developed sense of justice, sensitive, empathetic, free of jealousy, loves to read and the company of sophisticated people.

Pine Tree (the Peacemaker)—loves agreeable company, craves peace and harmony, loves to help others, active imagination, likes to write poetry, not fashion conscious, great compassion, friendly to all, falls strongly in love but will leave if betrayed or lied to, emotionally soft, humble, needs affection and reassurance.

Poplar Tree (the Uncertainty)—looks very decorative, talented, not very self-confident, extremely courageous if necessary, needs goodwill and pleasant surroundings, very choosy, often lonely, great animosity, great artistic nature, good organizer, tends to lean toward philosophy, reliable in any situation, takes partnership seriously.

Rowan Tree (the Sensitivity)—full of charm, cheerful, gifted without egoism, likes to draw attention, loves life, motion, unrest, and even complications, is both dependent and independent, good taste, artistic, passionate, emotional, good company, does not forgive.

Walnut Tree (the Passion)—unrelenting, strange and full of contrasts, often egotistic, aggressive, noble, broad horizon, unexpected reactions, spontaneous, unlimited ambition, no flexibility, difficult and uncommon partner, not always liked but often admired, ingenious strategist, very jealous and passionate, no compromise.

Weeping Willow (the Melancholy)—likes to be stress free, loves family life, full of hopes and dreams, attractive, very empathetic, loves anything beautiful, musically inclined, loves to travel to exotic places, restless, capricious, honest, can be influenced but is not easy to live with when pressured, sometimes demanding, good intuition, suffers in love until they find that one loyal, steadfast partner; loves to make others laugh.

. . . and then some

I voted
It's the least I could do

The hand-truck tire was repaired gratis
Thanks!

Delivered vini-cvr2.pdf for printing on 80 lb silk card
They should be ready after lunch

Bought a toner cartridge for my LED workhorse
Need to keep making impressions

Collected last week's mail from the po box
(where I don't live, thank you very much)

Opening all of it at once is too much
Too many bills and membership renewals
No purchase orders or cheques

I am awaiting light snow
my rain-knee's barometer predicts
aches lowly for
after lunch

and it's time for food: sun-dried
tomato sausages and something more . . .

T: Time for a Beer
loc: ConCtr
temp: -6
sound: Tragically Hip, Music @ Work

Haggis works!

Whether there's any true oatmeal savage in my blood, I'm still not clear. Don't think there's a need to be absolute one way or the other. People move about. Do things they need to do, or want to do, even if some of them they shouldn't commit without due consideration. I know that in me there's British and Irish (and that seems to include French and Viking) and more French (Huguenots in La Manche (the Channel Islands) who fled persecution in mainland France).

I like oatmeal for breakfast. I've like haggis from the first time I had it (but I've always felt that the haggis at the NB Highland Games has had too much strong beef liver for a balanced taste). I've loved being in Scotland and have to return sometime. Single malt, especially the western and island malts are favourites. Laphroaig, Lagavulin, Ardbeg, Talisker; Balvenie, Jura, Macallan . . . I love the peaty, smokey flavour same as I love the snotty var or spruce fire with a chunk of birch or maple thrown in.


Garlic Feast + happened last night. I offered to make haggis 'cause Rabbie Burns Day happens this week, the 25th. Amy said, "Sure, no one in this group would say no to a haggis."

I had the ingredients already: ground lamb, liver from farmed red deer, rolled oats, suet, cayenne pepper, all spice, salt, fresh garlic (not a trad ingredient but this was for a Garlic Feast), onions, a dram of scotch. So I chopped and boiled, browned, roasted, blended, added stock until wet not soupy. I don't cook this in a sheep stomach but in a waterfilled double boiler lined with parchement paper—easy and clean. Minutes after I stopped cooking it we're on the road for the Lodge. Haggis and a second dish of smashed neeps in a blanketed cardboard box on the lap of comrade-in-arms Haggis MacHaggis.

TO A HAGGIS
by Robert Burns

Fair fa’ your honest sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the puddin’ race !
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thaim :
Weel are ye wordy o’ a grace
As lang’s my arm.

The groaning trencher there ye fill,
Your hurdies like a distant hill ;
Your pin wad help to mend a mill
In time o’ need ;
While thro’ your pores the dews distil
Like amber bead.

His knife see rustic Labour dight,
An’ cut you up wi’ ready sleight,
Trenching your gushing entrails bright
Like ony ditch ;
And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin’, rich !

Then, horn for horn they stretch an’ strive,
Deil tak the hindmost ! on they drive,
Till a’ their weel-swall’d kytes belyve
Are bent like drums ;
Then auld guidman, maist like to rive,
Bethankit hums.

Is there that o’er his French ragout,
Or olio that wad staw a sow,
Or fricassee wad mak her spew
Wi’ perfect sconner,
Looks down wi’ sneering scornfu’ view
On sic a dinner ?

Poor devil ! see him owre his trash,
As feckless as a wither’d rash,
His spindle shank a guid whip-lash,
His nieve a nit:
Thro’ bloody flood or field to dash.
O how unfit!

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed—
The trembling earth resounds his tread !
Clap in his walie nieve a blade,
He’ll mak it whissle ;
An’ legs, an’ arms, an’ heads will sned,
Like taps o’ thrissle.

Ye Pow’rs, wha mak mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill o’ fare,
Auld Scotland wants nae skinking ware
That jaups in luggies ;
But, if ye wish her gratefu’ prayer,
Gie her a Haggis !

T: Sperm Whale, by Alan Syliboy/Red Crane
loc; calmCtr
temp: -10 C
sound: Robbie Robetson, Contact from the Underworld of Redboy

Michael Moore on the Canadian Election

Friday, January 20th, 2006

Michael Moore Statement on Canadian Election

Michael Moore is currently in production on his next movie. As an avid lover of all things Canadian, he has issued the following statement regarding Canada's upcoming election on Monday:

Oh, Canada—you're not really going to elect a Conservative majority on Monday, are you? That's a joke, right? I know you have a great sense of humor, and certainly a well-developed sense of irony, but this is no longer funny. Maybe it's a new form of Canadian irony—reverse irony! OK, now I get it. First, you have the courage to stand against the war in Iraq—and then you elect a prime minister who's for it. You declare gay people have equal rights—and then you elect a man who says they don't. You give your native peoples their own autonomy and their own territory—and then you vote for a man who wants to cut aid to these poorest of your citizens. Wow, that is intense! Only Canadians could pull off a hat trick of humor like that. My hat's off to you.

Far be it from me, as an American, to suggest what you should do. You already have too many Americans telling you what to do. Well, actually, you've got just one American who keeps telling you to roll over and fetch and sit. I hope you don't feel this appeal of mine is too intrusive but I just couldn't sit by, as your friend, and say nothing. Yes, I agree, the Liberals have some 'splainin' to do. And yes, one party in power for more than a decade gets a little . . . long. But you have a parliamentary system (I'll bet you didn't know that—see, that's why you need Americans telling you things!). There are ways at the polls to have your voices heard other than throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

These are no ordinary times, and as you go to the polls on Monday, you do so while a man running the nation to the south of you is hoping you can lend him a hand by picking Stephen Harper because he's a man who shares his world view. Do you want to help George Bush by turning Canada into his latest conquest? Is that how you want millions of us down here to see you from now on? The next notch in the cowboy belt? C'mon, where's your Canadian pride? I mean, if you're going to reduce Canada to a cheap download of Bush & Co., then at least don't surrender so easily. Can't you wait until he threatens to bomb Regina? Make him work for it, for Pete's sake.

But seriously, I know you're not going to elect a guy who should really be running for governor of Utah. Whew! I knew it! You almost had me there. Very funny. Don't do that again. God, I love you, you crazy cold wonderful neighbors to my north. Don't ever change.

—Michael Moore

(Mr. Moore is not available for interviews because he now needs to address the situation in Azerbaijan. But he could be talked into it for a couple of tickets to a Leaf's game.)

How many T-shirts?

Q: How many t-shirts do you own?

A: Good question, Jackie.

Right now, I don't know how many T-shirts I have on the go. Hundreds, probably. One drawer is just CHSR & Highland Radio Ts. Know that I still have several wearable ones from my teens: a blue denim one that I have pictures of me wearing after having been swimming in Bell Lake behind the house in Dartmouth; an Oakley shirt—Richard Oakley's rockin' band from Halifax that I saw underaged in Gasworks on Yonge Street, Toronto; a "Beam me up, Scotty, there is no intelligent life on this planet!"

I've also made my own T-shirts over the years, usually screen printing or hand painting them, and I've played with the form in other media. Some people want to see me for the T that I might be wearing—a form of pop culture entertainment. Have many not otherwise seen in these parts or not often. Sometimes I trade for Ts, work for them, or am gifted them. Recent acquisitions include Little Feat's 2005 Smooth Sailin' tour shirt; a bargin (475 dinars, less than $8 CDN) Che in Bolivia shirt bought at the Beograd Book Fair last Oktobar that I've seen the year before; and a gift of a black and gold shirt from the Mojo Club in Senta.

T: Gaspereau Press
loc: BJP comCtr
temp: 0 C
sound: The Best of Blondie

walkwerk

To some I am an old man, a really old man. It's not always cool that I also know, or am friends with, their parents. How young is old when there are Gov of Can programs for "youth" aimed at up to 34-year-olds (not that I am or pretend to be that age). I have a few hands on that, yet my age is often guessed to be ten to 15 years younger, never older. Perhaps it's the poetry, 'cause it's certainly not the stress o' publishing, that is keeping me youthful. In some groups that I work with or belong to I am clearly the youngster in a crowd of considerably older folks. Or the ones my age look and act a generation older. Sometimes, though, I know I'm downright childish in my artistic temperament—especially when I'm body &and mind exhausted and somehow operating with only some of my ancient inner id animal mind and my frontal lobes have taken an unannounced break from reality. Don't push me then. I'll be too stupid-stubborn to get out of my own way. Today approached that . . .


Today, I hauled books from the soon-to-no-longer-be-mine-to-use storage cage on Argyle Street to the mailroom in my apartment-office. Somewhere along the sidewalks or streets, I punctured a tire on the handtruck on a T-shaped piece of broken beer bottle glass. Great! Good thing most cartons of books I have only weigh 10-23 kg. After this evening's walk to the No'side Korean Tyre store, I have a rubber patch kit (a tube of Shoe Goo and an athletic cup [tough love calls for protection] for use in known world fighting and not in this mundane world). This afternoon I was also getting the guts of a chapbook printed at the local (now) UPS Store but wouldn't get the covers printed because I don't trust the staff's competency and will only work with the franchise owner (who was not available, so I have to got back on Monday). Yes, ship-ups do happen. This runaround meant several walks by the decaying-into-the-ground former Fredericton train station pictured above. It's hurting. Hurting bad. It's owned by one of the Irving clan. The city has no teeth with which to make the Irving(s) restore the train station, or to expropriate it as a historic or cultural site in the city. Shame, shame, shame.


Walking back from No'side I took out the digital camera and, with the auto flash off, started taking pictures of the bridge and the night traffic while walking, not stopping. This is one of my favourite images from the walk.

shirt: fading burgundy long-sleeve T
loc: comCtr aftrhrs
temp: 1 C
sound: Runrig, The Stamping Ground

In between

sometimes when i feel i'm nowhere, or am lost in the abstract binary universe of obsessive accounting of my life, i wonder, what's the point, really?

invited to have my brain picked to further the science of art, and efficient and effective creation of art, how could i say, no? it's not everyday one gets mistaken for an expert, or wonders if something really was experienced rather than dreamed, read in a book, seen on the television or in an internet arachnaid's web. i flew northwest to the coldest capitol and went underground in space named after the neighbouring pro. cold wind blew in the revolving and other doors, flowed across the floor past the fireplace and down a stairwell to the lower levels.

yesterday i climbed out of that hole and slide along rain-wet, ice- covered sidewalks instead of eating lunch. the thought control centre of the canada council for the arts resides in this office tower in dwntwn otterwater. i went there. needed to. have been there before. will likely have to go there again. was hand-delivering papers to keep myself and my art projects alive or at least on the playing field—not sidelined or sent to the lockerroom. sent packing is no place to find yourself.


instead of the geographically impossible live radio show on tuesday night, rob mclennan (above) and me treked to a nearby elephant and castle for a meal, guiness and conversation. many hours worth of talk—both rant and planning. so much happening— both fukd and good. first time in month's, since the book fair last june, that we'd been in the same place to talk together. needed that!


came back to fredvalley by way of maple leaf lounge comp food, whisky, guiness and red wine while flights were cancelled and mine delayed. bumpy landings in montreal and fredericton. taxi ride to town was in a instant thunder and lightning storm-shower with rain-hail-ice pellets. just lovely. can't imagine that they would have left the plane land in that. looks like i'll be going in between again in march. fine with me as long as I re-emerge whole.

shirt: dkgreen prairie
loc: Fred comCtr
temp: 1 C
sound: Depeche Mode

Pot Roast and Poetry

It's time, more than time, to try finalising another book-length poetry manuscript together and to send it off: "Awa' with ye, ye maggoty nightmare beastie!"

It's not that I don't have poems. My problems, challenges, I feel almost all stem from a perceived lack of time for my creative self and far too much of myself put into the press and its doings. I need time to play with my poems and poetry. Feel that I don't get enough time with them or my other creative writings. I need time to work, rework, edit my poems. Need to shake 'em up. See what falls off, what holds. Should read them aloud. Hear if they whisper or hum or sing or clunk. Need to nurture and prune them to better blooms.

Then I need to string or bunch them together. Make a stook of them before shipping the poor poems off to try to find-get someone to make them into a book. Some plucky publisher still open to Canadian poetry. I have need of a new book. My publisher in Beograd wants to see something new. They can apply for translation grants only for professionally published books. They might publish without the translation grant but why not enrich the project for both of us?

Sand-spreading trucks busy on the Fredericton roads and parking lots at this pre-dawn time. Slick, wet, black ice under the cold rain in our bowl of fog. Better than freezing rain (and that might be happening up on the hills or in northern New Brunswick).

I have a pot roast to cook for lunchtime. Have everything ready. Dutch oven pot on the stove awaiting my attention. First, brown the piece of meat on high heat. Next, put in diced tomatoes, a minced jalapeno pepper, garlic cloves, some beer or red wine (and some for myself—sun is over the yardarm in Beograd), cumin or sonoran seasoning . . . and leave to simmer for two hours. Add carrots, cored parsnip, spuds, turnip, sauteed onion, celery, whatever . . . Forget about it for another hour . . .

. . . and return to the poems or poetry manuscript, if possible, and don't get caught by application form financials and the bookkeeper/accountant, tax reports and returns, sales logs, email, business telephone, incoming faxes.

If not poetry, try a little reading or daydreaming . . . on a boat on a calm river, with a friend or a group of friends, beer or wine in hand, sun with scattered clouds, warm afternoon, talking and laughing and loving life. Something good outside the boxes lived in, lived out of, watched and staring back at you.

shirt: two black long-sleeved ones
loc: comCtr
temp: 2 C, raining, foggy
sound: Blues Traveller, Straight On Till Morning

Pay Equity

How is it that a committee of men could decide that the Province of New Brunswick can't implement gender pay equity for its employees? How is it that a politician committee could be formed for the purpose or examining or (truly) re-examining gender-problemed pay equity in N.B. without including at least half female politicians? Are there that few elected women members of the legislature in province? How is it that eleven male apes, baboons, chihuahuas or spineless slugs could make a decision like this and not expect an outcry?

I'd like to see them lined up and kicked in the balls, each and every one of them. That's probably a sexist comment on my part. I'm sick of shite like this! I'm all for pay equity for women. I'm also all for a guaranteed minimum income for everyone whether they work or not, whether they want to be an artist, poet, employee or politician.

There are only three possible solutions:
1) Raise all women's wages or salaries to equal their male counterparts.
2) Lower all men's wages or salaries to equal their female counterparts.
3) Split the difference and make all wages or salaries for men and women in the same positions, or levels of job description defined responsibility, the same, equal, now and forever.

Simple it may seem but how much time and money, including MLA salaries, did that committee of wankers waste on making the wrong decision. Honestly, it's not even a decision. It's an issue that shouldn't have to be discussed or open for debate. It should have been implemented years ago. It still should be implemented. It MUST be implemented.

What's wrong with the employee unions for not entrenching this in their negotiations? I've yet to see a person, a politician or employee, that's not been carried to term (or as reasonably close and humanly possible) and birthed by a woman. Pay equity for women and men should be the minimum, here and everywhere!

T: Pennsic XXXII
loc: commCtr
temp: -4
sound:

APB, 10 Jan 2006

First half of Ashes, Paper & Beans tonight was the first half of Adrift on an Icepan by Wilfred T. Grenfell as read by Chris Brooks. Second half was mostly an odd spoken word with music fest:
Frank Zappa, "Trouble Every Day"
Tesox, "So what you want me to do"
Bullfrog, "Reverse Psychology"
&
Fortner Anderson, "Sometimes I Think"

T: Pennsic XXXII
loc: comCtr
temp: -4
sound: Funk Welten: The Label Compilation 01

Joseph Sherman 1945-2006

Joe's family is very sorry to have to tell you that he died this morning after a battle with cancer that took him far too quickly. Joe was so proud of the League [of Canadian Poets] and his membership in it. He cherished his relationships with the many good friends and colleagues he met through the League. We will miss him more than we can say.
—Ann, Rebekah and Matthew

Joseph Sherman was born in Bridgewater, Nova Scotia in 1945, and raised in Sydney, Cape Breton. He received his BA and MA from University of New Brunswick in Fredericton. He taught in Edmundston, NB from 1970 to 1979.

I am saddened to hear that Joe Sherman passed away this morning. Joe was such a vital person in the poetry, writing, and arts communities of the Atlantic region and of Canada. For many years he was editor of ARTSatlantic magazine out of Confederation Center in Charlottetown, PEI. He was the author of several books of poetry including Birthday (New Brunswick Chapbooks, 1969), Chaim the Slaughterer (Oberon, 1974), Lords of Shouting (Oberon, 1982), Shaping the Flame: Imagining Wallenberg (Oberon, 1989) and American Standard and Other Poems (Oberon, 1999).

In 1987, as a visiting, performing poet in the inaugural Milton Acorn Festival, I slept in a tent pitched in the Sherman's backyard and ate at their table. I also knew Joe as an alumni of the CHSR radio station where I do my weekly program. During our last time together, last year, during a bus ride from Fredericton to Moncton, Joe was reflective on the Canadian literary community and very passionate about this country's great Jewish authors. He was also very excited about an alphabet writing project and showed me some of the manuscript-in-progress. Joe will be greatly missed.

First and Last

I was born on August 4th 1945,
and on August 5th,
while I suckled in tranquility,
Hiroshima played host
to the first Atomic Bomb.
God, to think of all those people
who woke with me,
only once.

—Joseph Sherman
from Birthday

T: The Writers' Union of Canada
loc: comCtr
temp: -9
sound:

unplug

There's many people that believe laissez-faire marketplace should be the only determining factor. Commercial Darwinianism as the one true control of creative output. It can't happen as long as governments expect to be a silent partner in everything legal and then some. They have to be paid-off simply to be or do almost anything. They want a cut of everything, every transaction, every land grab, every "New!" and every "New! Improved!", every surplus or profit, every death.

Seems that we're expected to acquire, consume and want. We're to pay for this through some form of income—usually acquired in exchange for some form of short-term slavery or prostitution in the labour market. To want to live simply is often seen as a perversion or travesty, a corruption of work ethic and responsibilities. Why are we born? Is it to be a cog in the machine, tool of industry, a generator of taxes? Or is it to live, to create, to share and care, to breathe and laugh, to sleep and love?

Others, though, want, expect, assume, demand that the government provide or pay for everything. That the government must do everything. Government involvement, public support, investment in the arts and culture of a peoples is a key for the participating people. For some other people, arts and culture is seen as luxury or a benefit, even an excess. How shocked would they be by the removal of all arts and culture from their lives. They'd find themselves naked, without shelter ot tools or the imagination to create.

Governments, in all their myriad forms, are the creation of humans or humanity. Government is not free-standing and it doesn't exist without the active participation of people. How a person participates in or with goverment is a wide spectrum from oppression from indifference to. If we have choice, we can choose. If we have no choice, or can't choose, what are we to do? For others, "choice" is a state secret denied.

T: Mojo Club
loc: conCtr
temp: -2, light freezing drizzle
Sound: Neil Young Unplugged

i lack

of course, in the eyes of some or many, i lack. big hairy. or i don't have what it takes, or am unworthy of the stupid or conniving accolades of others. what's that mean? nothing. same as all the other stuff some try so desperately to hoard as if they can take it somewhere after death the way many inherit debt, even for dying. it's not like i want to say "bite me" and i'm not about to utter threats, apologies or anything. silence would be too sweet. stuffed.

all afternoon i've been in the sand of another's nightmare deams because my sand doesn't have cute walls and doesn't induce sleep. lol. won't help me like an unimaginable sale or disaster, accident. why would i want? why did i commit in the first place? it was more than enough try and work with words.

t: black
loc: conctr
temp: -4 c
sound: bad news on tv from the next room (empty) + pantera's the great southern trendkill in studio

Dans L'azure / Into Indigo

Don't miss the grand opening of The Gallery at the New Brunswick College of Craft and Design on Friday, January 6 from 5-7 pm.

Dip and dye with Denise Richard, a Moncton native and a 2005 graduate of the Kootney School of the Arts in Nelson, British Columbia.

Come see the fantastic forms in felt created by the hottest new artist in Fredericton and try your hand at dipping and dyeing. Throughout the course of this three week show, Richard will transform the work from white wool to various exciting shades of indigo.

You'll be amazed by the chemical process of dipping white wool into a yellow substance and seeing it oxidize into beautiful hues of blues and greens.

The Gallery
New Brunswick College of Craft and Design
457 Queen Street
Fredericton, NB

For more information, please call
(506) 457-6805.

The Gallery is open Monday to Friday from 9 am to 4:30 pm. Everyone welcome.

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T: Alexander Keiths
loc: comCtr
temp: -8, light fluries
sound: Bob Marley & The Wailers, Survival