Settler writer/musician, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming in 2020, Hair Sinister after that. ————- LAND BACK . @TheCorrection on twitter.
not, ha ha, rebarbative. Don’t get those two words mixed up.
Jesse and Slider are going to go dancing. Outside, in the summer, at night. I am putting together a playlist, which include Serena Ryder’s “Ice Age”. I heard it this morning as muzak at the Save-On and as I listened I thought, you know for a pop song this is actually tolerable (lyrically and musically). Then I find out she’s Canadian and won Juno awards and is part Trini and part Indigenous and I thought, yeah, okay. Definitely going on the playlist.
Jeff didn’t come, he’s buried in work at the moment. I thought about stopping off for a coffee at Timmy Ho’s but decided to come straight home, and I’m glad I did.
The Kaossilator, which has had a whole ALBUM done on it alone (this is one tune) is continuing to provide me with entertainment.
JUST at the point the battery starts to die, it makes ABSOLUTELY incredible noises, since it hangs and starts to loop (especially in the voice effects, I’m not entirely sure why). The effects can be everything from sinister to gutbusting. Hope to do something with that some day, in terms of home recording.
Hives came back, it’s definitely the nuts. Good to know!
Got a request to go on CNN today to talk about Ohio's vaccine lottery. Deferred because economic incentives for vaccination are not my area of expertise and I only know the literature superficially. See how easy that is? pic.twitter.com/VNpEBRx78r
people who want to know can ask me, I won’t say why. All is well.
I MADE CRUNCHY NUTELLA and ate it all.
TOM CAME BY WITH PEGGY’S STRAWBERRY RHUBARB PIE. It is spectacularly good, srsly. I must call her.
We watched the Méliès Mystery documentary.
I have not mailed anything. I need to phone Paul.
This is a new song, European cheesy ballad of the 60s style
I have no love
Only wistful dreams
I have no home
for the longings of my heart
before me now
a shining vista gleams
that you love me
and love me only
and then you go and fart
My dreams are ASH
I think my eyelid’s welded shut
I soar then crash
Like a kite whose string is cut
The woe I feel
In knowing we must part
Please know that I am grieving
with each step as I’m leaving
but I’d like to go on breathing
So the biscotti for Paul and the kids and kMike and his parents and Tom and Peggy has been delivered. Came back into the house just now and IT STILL SMELLS OVERWHELMINGLY of biscotti HA HA I win.
Got assaulted by a hummingbird (or as close as made Paul and me go holy shit as she went by) in Deer Lake Park. Watched two bush tits go twittering by and then HOW RUDE they had sex right in front of me.
We heard but did not see a pterodactyl (pileated woodpecker) and were surrounded by bird song. Paul’s rain magic continued – we ate on a patio (it was my mother’s day late luncheon, which was founded by Paul and SO KIND of him) and the rain held off until after we got to his place. kMike and Keith were there.
Told Peggy Katie’s news; she was thrilled. Her news is that she hurt her leg three weeks ago so that’s why the biscotti tin hadn’t come back yet, plus her Prius needed a new battery. Also, they are getting a heat pump and Dan T (who was there and said hi) is doing hordes of work on their garden. FUCK I wish her krankenhaus wasn’t in fucking White Rock. Imagine driving an hour to find out they ordered the wrong battery after a ninety minute wait, when your leg hurts so bad you could cry. She also got a simply spectacular haircut from Brooke’s sister.
So I have spoken to so many different people today I feel like I need to pull a blanket fort together.
I have made biscotti. I am still making biscotti…. quadruple batch. Absolute units of biscotti, they are absolutely perfect.
Some to Katie’s Mike, some to Paul, some to Tom and Peggy, some to mOm and pOp, and now I have to find shipping boxes…..
Tremendous training session with Buster this morning.
Buster has started speed running the morning training session, it’s hilarious. BUMPS LEG to start game. Paw clap x 3; run and chase x 10; jump up and catch treat single-pawed; up onto the chair paw clap x 3; PAUSE ‘I’m not chasing that’ FINALE: chases treat down the stairs THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP crunch crunch crunch
This is all designed to maximize treat consumption; he’s figured out it’s piecework and now he just goes like spit. I stopped recording him because he hates the red light, but I really wish I’d recorded this morning, it was stellar.
The Goddamn Hives are back. I woke up with a massive one on the back of my hand and the entire surface of my body is one massive itch. Off to bum some loratadine off Jeff.
Mike has apparently moved most of his stuff in with Katie? I’m behind the times. I don’t want to bug her, she calls me when she’s feeling good enough to, and that’s always a nice feeling.
After a reasonably energetic day yesterday I amazed myself by getting up, loading the dishwasher and running it. I mean it was an act of will.
Then I trained Buster. He was very very heavy on the pawclap action today, not so much on the jump and run. He wanted to chase treats along the floor; but he was great and took direction to a second pawclap station, did three in a row and then we finished up with run and chase, which was really what he wanted. All in all a very satisfactory training session, although I note that he did not do his standard “I am in training mode” signal this morning for the first time in…. months, maybe? He banged into my RIGHT leg, not my left leg. If it hadn’t been a mirror image of his usual signal (literally) I would have thought he was ha ha pulling my leg.
I have still not mailed Tish’s letter. I am a lazy bum, and also, I do not want to leave the house. I can’t contribute to a pandemic if I never get in anyone’s face.
I have no desire to do anything but eat carbs, which is kind of a problem. I’ve drunk a lot of tea, but I have to give my poor kidneys a break.
Bowen Island trip this summer is once again in prospect, and I’m so happy about it.
Lovely walk in Deer Lake Park yesterday. It was exactly the perfect temperature. In response to my dream I said fuck it; I’ve been vaccinated, it’s outdoors, the wind is a steady 3 to 5 knots, I’m not wearing a mask today. Paul put *his* on while we were on the walkway. Two of the biggest green frogs we ever did see were in the waterways by the raised walkway.
Many perching hummingbirds.
Many pterodactyls, seen but not heard.
Many songbirds in glorious voice.
When we arrived the parking lot was JAMMED and then… someone pulled out of the spaces in the shade, it was like a movie or something.
I didn’t drive, I wasn’t feeling up to it. I warned Paul about the repair work at Burris and Canada Way so we took Kingsway instead. Anyway, I don’t know whether Paul was making heroic efforts not to bug me with his driving or I was just in a good mood, but it was fine.
Then back here for lentil soup with melted cheese, tea and a bun. I sent Paul away with a container of lentil soup; this batch isn’t as spicy as usual but the flavours settled very nicely.
Cousin Alex is vaccinated. After her COVID woes recently (D. tested positive after they did everything right which is SO ANNOYING) I WAS THRILLED BEYOND WORDS when she showed her bandaid on twitter. Me, I’m doing okay although there is still an inch across welt on my arm from the 8th.
Anyway, I was feeling like death yesterday and I feel fine today, so yay, perhaps I’ll get some work done today!!
Woke up from my first COVID nightmare this morning at 6:30 am – I was trying to get on the Seabus and realized that I was alone, and I wasn’t wearing a mask, and Noone Else Was Either. My awakening was unpleasant but at least I was oriented pretty quick.
I want to believe I’ve been able to weather this thing but I haven’t, it’s weathered me. They’re saying now (Kapil Komireddi in Foreign Policy) that the death toll in India may literally be ten times higher than whatever Modi is allowing the press to report. Modi has already done more to destroy India than Trump did to the US, and that’s SAYING something. The media are lapdogs, the supreme court is silent, and Hindutva types are FOAMING at the opportunity to ‘drive the Muslim dogs’ out of their beautiful pure brahmin New India. So sure, it could be worse in Canada, let’s hope it doesn’t go there, but the world is a dumpster fire right now.
I’m going to let my mental health go there.
For the next week, I’m on vacation. Don’t know where I’m going, besides this house, but I am going to just ignore everything until I feel calm enough to get back on the goddamned Seabus. No writing, no practicing, no moving, no thinking. I’ll update my blog but try to stay off social media.
For my mOm, a historical titles document for her reference.
using the concept of niceness to tyrannize the authentic is one of the folkways of whiteness
It’s always one breath away from calling the cops.
@gindaanis on twitter today
aanikoobijigan is the Ojibwe word for great-grandparent (or ancestor) and the word for great-grandchild. It’s a connective way of thinking, cyclical rather than linear time. And as I step into writing a chapter on restoring human relations that’s an interesting thing to think on