Hello, all! Let me start with a bit of housekeeping. Not actual housekeeping — gorgeous weather such as we’ve been having pretty much precludes that (in fact, quit reading this straightaway and go to the beach)! Rather, I’m setting this virtual house in order. I’ve been remiss, and it’s time to tighten up the form and content of this site.
That’s because I predict that there will be more literary news and activity to come in the upcoming months. I’m getting increasingly busy with literary projects (with a corresponding drop in social justice work), so it’s only logical that I punch ‘em.
First, I’ve been seriously bashing away at my vintage Washburn Oscar Schmidt OG6S (as per profile image). Initially nicknamed “The Wanker” on account of its stubborn streak (I’ll explain later), I’ve decided that he requires a more respectful name. After all, I’ve learned more with him in the past three weeks than I did in all those teenaged months taking lessons and trying to shred on my $150 Vantage “Avenger.” So much so that I’ve begun to write songs in earnest, and not just lyrics.
Überdørrk!
And yes, you read that correctly. It’s not a “her,” it’s a “him.” My gee-tar may have started as a “her”, but it has a definite FTM Trans vibe. Thanks to Karen Houle for the axe and the coaching.
Next, on Saturday the 26th, the “Owen Sound Blue Poets of the Purple Page” took off for the Anything Goes Slam at the Drake Hotel in Toronto. Robert and the luminous Caroline Menzies, along with myself and Alien Abductee Musician Karen Houle, laughed our way to Toronto and grumbled our way back. We was robbed, I tellya. Last year Bob came in third overall, and I made it to the second round in what we all considered to be a stronger field. Last week? We didn’t make it past round one. Grrr. To elaborate would be to press some vinegar out of some already sour grapes. So I’ll merely say that when it comes to Spoken Word, I think I’m going to ditch the Slip Hop Slammin’ and get my Spalding Gray on. I’d much rather listen to someone like Corin Raymond wax nostalgic about Ray Bradbury anyway.
Finally — and I’ve saved the best for last! — MOSAIC (June 2012; vol.19, no. 9) just published my brownfields poem on the Underground Railroad and the Freedom Runners. “Sydenham Terminus” takes on what I call the dread metonymy of civilization: our perverse desire to reduce and categorize, and thence dehumanize, our fellow humans. The usual brownfields elements are there: water, silence, creation and self-creation, memory and history, loss, absence, building, and the (C/c)entury, all shooting through the Psalms and a couple of key passages from the Gospels of Luke and John. The hard copy should be out soon. Big thanks go to Maryann Thomas.
Enjoy your day!
Rico
