tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318999022024-03-13T02:34:09.605+01:00elsewhere - Lisa PasoldUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger365125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-21092327463121559502012-01-31T18:40:00.003+01:002012-01-31T18:45:05.478+01:00new blog address!<div style="text-align: left;">i've moved this blog onto my newly-revamped website at <a href="http://lisapasold.com/">www.lisapasold.com</a>, so please do drag your reading chair on over to the new locale...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 287px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo537U8YjsAlW90YldF7BIRAM_WvApF4hWtyGJNCe3rHmND5E5mLUJ4mW8aGG1OcjrirCgUjhB250vyAzqyExXIySbHSsd9rWUkT7NWT-JgxgFp2oMQj_m-sYk_MYID_LmnbwsvQ/s320/moving+house.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703853261909122418" /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-16111915735713886042011-12-31T11:32:00.003+01:002011-12-31T11:38:45.514+01:00Millard's Rat<div style="text-align: left;">a wonderful coincidence to end the year: I had no idea when I named my lead character Millard that there is an actual rodent named for her. The Millard's Rat, Dacnomys millardi, lives in Asia and is part of the rodent family Muridae. Like most rats, it is not currently endangered, but it is fairly rare to see one. All in all, highly appropriate for my Millard in <i>Rats of Las Vegas.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Happy New Year...from all us rats!</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cW0Uo0HCzp_5bsnOKzUMAVcCdBWASrViUFsbV9gpXDd9ZbhQLk-DwZn-7uG1NaDN86G3wcPbPCxNv7Bx8ExX8v2aLTQQffoAlZVBWxkGBivtZ0T0zkZ-2lIXP8si0z0lI0iCvg/s320/anthony+lister+rat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692239736240283186" /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span >(this rat is a detail from an art piece by Anthony Lister)</span></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-84748227407495847422011-12-09T20:49:00.005+01:002011-12-09T21:08:13.114+01:00Marching bands<div style="text-align: left;">horns and drums coming down the street - a specifically New Orleans feeling</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 199px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhySdvnoMY35exWPTujECwnI1dcH4RpJXNxQkTV3HrdRwKPKjhdFxb3odvrMnRWUiUoi4OlVTyVumW1ylw-hrv3qnKCNUAQ8Z3mvBg-rJUAOg52lHJtkm9PYxwwCt3ITmZSo3pNPQ/s320/IMG_4379.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684222373111195298" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div>for a reminder of what these schools have gone through, to march again, read <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5234973">this</a></div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh8bx5JvQaOLpHNncNjglO-EnR4hVtpjDNUgbWcn_N9Na_omu0qGoThR1MYev24Rau1pQn_ujnv3qPcpojGuRaLmR1odQs7edqyqQgp8qj6ALA_eNRPQC7setreaPXQK4ilbrd0g/s320/IMG_4387.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684222376480427602" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" >(the Christmas parade down Canal street last weekend)</span></i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-27249764719392869292011-12-08T21:47:00.002+01:002011-12-08T21:56:42.301+01:00Confederacy of Dunces<div style="text-align: left;">i must reread the classic New Orleans novel by John Kennedy O'Toole. i even know where my copy is...in France, beside a yellow sofa. meanwhile, i will have to toast O'Toole and Ignatius by eating a hotdog at one of the ubiquitous Lucky stands.</div><div><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq0d4Cv8VACyipkOaEF_u044nhljK4ESnN_mXJ3ou3jYkuys2QfCWZGvGr-HQm9B9ja7fBe-Whyphenhyphen_6TGQCj0hCLoTJx2-KO47WtxL5m8mrUoVsB9LFn1Za77KznMSYxs_NlPn5jIQ/s320/Ignatius+dog.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683863046338904162" /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-48151215096684090272011-12-07T17:19:00.001+01:002011-12-08T02:28:00.696+01:00Message to the Muse<div style="text-align: left;">biking along Prytania thinking of a poem i heard last week at the <a href="http://goldminesaloon.net/Home_Page.html">Gold Mine's <i>17 Poets!</i></a></div><div></div><blockquote><div><i>...nine muses,</i></div><div><i>all in all,</i></div><div><i>and four alone</i></div><div><i>are just for poetry.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>The gods were telling us</i></div><div><i>it would be hard.</i></div><div><i>Or were they telling us</i></div><div><i>it would be hopeless?</i></div></blockquote><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAwoWoa1DKimJp4PLVZQkibs5uPXj1hMqb43N4OGa2KMVrHOx2n5bXJzk19pn5jT_oxMN5RhTkI9z7FYc-A2tS73s2iwLFC0h0bEOXF2wDGFg_fCvBNhpeHqpLtRs8ErFBaXXnvg/s200/Louvre+Muse.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683563075801331762" /><div>from Daniel Reinhold's MESSAGE TO THE MUSE</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-30346385238865847882011-12-06T21:27:00.004+01:002011-12-06T21:33:29.798+01:00Who to trust in New Orleans<div style="text-align: left;">the tour guides are often looking in the wrong direction, reciting facts that tend more to creativity than history. i have more confidence in the mules, who seem to know what they're doing.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ec8RDCbMgCurI7bv-Bc75YC0PFQrv4VjmXeJ7kceZqSspKs66jX_X8NuTBrcgoeuYWEuDgkJYD2GJYiG4_nNlKf5g9IzsTyYULqy5IfZIPMeGJj8yVOa4b0i_V5OORG6yGZRGQ/s320/IMG_4401.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683115339961989074" /><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-10004139094087607302011-12-05T20:39:00.000+01:002011-12-06T21:34:06.883+01:00evening, New Orleansrain and horseshoes on the wet pavement, trains and long long boat horns, shouts for the Saints game and sirens, always sirens, a passing car with bounce blaring, and a calliope disappearing against the wind.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-79388886677125806112011-12-04T13:54:00.001+01:002011-12-05T02:07:50.042+01:00Algiers bonfire - FLOODWALL<div style="text-align: left;">as the fire took hold last night of the cathartic bonfire installation by Jana Napoli - a structure of drawers retrieved from Katrina-decimated homes</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib9vLz4faRdD4_wsPQ3riFSXaaqiGQUT9LMfAGxX-Ptx5sYN7DvKoO3cEXOHlYHqERnY4m2J1BWYXOWY-h4W2tmhzfkFJvW8quSRSwvqFtdCLau4nXiGLftMdMnDbX6xmuw0txqA/s320/IMG_4432.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682444491462906322" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20Mv5OeHQgGKoRXspuLvtEwED7hsSCRRUEWKR1NhkuMVvofKuOkruRR0m8W75tQw8cpmQPxwOpWUkhFSipvYfHcPLsxO2Q-v-ol46qHyRtCRjKRHZkMqr7P0qhR33EAHAafZIHg/s320/IMG_4446.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682443249430847186" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEN4RFSBJUe6Q47_MExMG2uPI2AWPTSr1sqpFg3cLo15bCg0A5DQNJ27rY4HMtOiKdYGSrliWmlLa6m9iZjIWrpJjPFHlpAhpwr4reJMWlAlRBFQ0KAmWcEOyuKn3cpyEWOqCWZQ/s320/IMG_4449.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682444285663982066" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-78956128093700308192011-12-03T18:50:00.005+01:002011-12-03T19:53:58.020+01:00New Orleans vs the cockroach<div style="text-align: left;">winter or summer, the occasional bastard-bug pauses to adjust its top-hat and continue along a French Quarter sidewalk.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 217px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSkMft5tNP9OflGgcFc2XkBxnAbSs6d5EcMgyj-lzCFJGNBkye6L63Y9QR8eqXG1NMTR2N5EJFsnOOLusgAAvzblNL6neuD_qzo1y3-9QV84RlHlYeZ1Xwx6chjLvuPgnT7Jr46w/s320/IMG_4316.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681962404251971506" /><div><i>postcard by lee kyle</i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-45557370637901754452011-12-02T02:04:00.004+01:002011-12-02T21:13:32.125+01:00Cafe du Monde<div style="text-align: left;">after the beignets have disappeared - the tell-tale icing sugar trails out of the Cafe du Monde and into the night</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Vkq5JKBDs11jQAkfVIVdIieypK8wJVvsYF7U7fclrGwn8E5sGVHU8ykdkvIJumks2H3dROWTQINKgTrqlXRNhVGJsWkgGKQoB23kNegvoZwHS92QPDoS-TH8OLkLk6UuJwuHrA/s320/IMG_4305-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681331286035069122" /><div><i>Cafe du Monde, after the beignets</i></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-11393324917122611932011-12-01T01:52:00.002+01:002011-12-02T02:02:38.237+01:00Frenchmen Street<div style="text-align: left;">washboard percussion played with thimbles on all fingers - heading out into the cold night i couldn't resist taking a last photo</div><div><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi45rSang-x2Qt0JH15r_cGyIpTtiLRnTu_zMwEfbArbKwy81fWrQv8aGEoNUgK09OxdAOdFhlW3P9N_ZiaBIa4o5WgOeYb97R6fOf485VOYkp1TbnrpK5k2xoCA6YSrXmuNApQog/s320/IMG_4301-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681329028366171138" /><i>Wednesday night at The Spotted Cat on Frenchmen Street in New Orleans</i><div><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-4353326893085142302011-11-19T00:11:00.001+01:002011-11-21T17:37:01.051+01:00November New OrleansOnly hours after I moved into this apartment on the edge of Trem<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; ">é</span>, a 'Second Line' marching band went past my door, taking flowers to the cemetery for All Saints' Day. <div><br /></div><div>I feel a bit like Colette in her Palais Royal apartment--she called the place "the tunnel" because of its shotgun layout. I spread books and various cooking ingredients around the kitchen & work there, because the kitchen door gives onto a sunny courtyard. </div><div><br /></div><div>The tattoo parlor down the street has its air conditioner running. Four entirely black feral kittens peer out from under the fence, tropical flowers are blooming, and the palm trees rattle in the wind. </div><div><br /></div><div><div>I woke up to the roving fruit vendor who drives past every morning around 9am. Her megaphone makes her sound like a muezzin, except her call to prayer is "I have pine-apples, I have cante-lope, I have sat-sumas..."</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Last week, the mayor finally reopened Louis Armstrong Park, with the Trem<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: large; ">é </span>Brass Band playing, Congo drumming, dancing, sacred smudging and Mardi Gras Indians in blindingly-bright embroidery & feathers. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, to cycle across town, avoiding the worst of the earthquake-fissures that linger six years after Katrina. Collecting details, trying to understand a little bit about this city so thoroughly inhabited and worn by its past but also determined to be present. I'm more awake here than in so many other cities where life is definitely easier (what a misnomer, 'the Big Easy') but less alive.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-15862095320342433452011-10-26T03:35:00.006+02:002011-10-26T04:09:41.273+02:00LAS VEGAS PATKANYAI<div style="text-align: left;">RATS OF LAS VEGAS now <a href="http://http//bookhouse.hu/3000191690/las-vegas-patkanyai-nemzet-a-siralomhazban-i-p-c-konyvek-">exists in Hungarian, in real & virtual</a>/e-book form. i wish i could read Hungarian, but maybe that's the mysterious beauty of the translator's art...the author will never know exactly what the book means in the new language. honestly, sometimes i think the author is the last person to understand what the book means, even in the original language.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">so the Hungarian edition is now out in the world, with a cover that makes me feel like a Raymond Chandler-era pulp fiction writer...a great honour, as Chandler is one of my literary heroes. </div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmu9ggiyq1YD2LwIWwV8erzNFkipzCRrjZ9BP3qowX8d7Qoz7D8T8N4kSAp3D-XX2QEbB07hpX5D9d7AHo8ruUwZ6ZKDKWhpGNW3SE2F2WkWCjELwEaoqFEk7qQbC_6z1NQk5BNg/s320/RATS+Hungarian+edition.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667616265793711922" /><div style="text-align: left;">at first, the Hungarian publishers <a href="http://http//www.behance.net/gallery/Lisa-Pasold-Las-Vegas-Patknyai-book-cover/2010131">considered a cover</a> that seems closer to the Canadian concept for the book. the back image on this proposal delights me--the car, the flamingo neck--</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj8JjNbSWibf_XqGJXpYEgvV3i05obuG8yfP5abKG6-mR5YFok6mMTei3-0AXFMScKbUBT8pwlEmXXixdmeZu26NUIhKji9HuxOP9CbZ5Ltk5-aDm70CGRoAQRPxdadz2uDyFz2Q/s320/flamingoRATS.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667614679158753970" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">but in the end, the Hungarian editors went with a more visceral look. and i admit, if i ever get a tattoo, it will probably be the upside-down Ace of Spades at the bottom of the current cover.</div></div><div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-84001299469059249822011-09-21T10:32:00.005+02:002011-09-21T10:40:13.542+02:00dare your next mistake<div><iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/PbC4gqZGPSY?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div><div><br /></div><div>i saw this at Mark Folse's blog <a href="http://toulousestreet.wordpress.com/">Toulouse Street</a>. some days, it's nice to know Ira's on your side... i also think this 'phase' happens every time I start a new project & i always need to fight my way through it.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-46000469259882280602011-08-11T19:59:00.005+02:002011-08-11T20:19:41.214+02:00a moment in Calgary<div style="text-align: left;">drove into Calgary for an excellent meeting with my editor extraordinaire, Rose Scollard, at <a href="http://www.frontenachouse.com/">Frontenac House</a>, and wrapped up the day over BBQ, discussing the new Poet Laureate position that the City of Calgary has created.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>how interesting: while Toronto's mayor is attacking libraries & literary culture, good ole' redneck Cowtown is funding a new literary position with pride.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>The Mayor of Calgary, Naheed Nenshi, says "I think that these things actually really do matter...It helps us think of better ways to tell our story. And telling our story has value in and of itself." A very articulate retort to the Fords' recent blathering. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>am looking forward to hearing who becomes Calgary's official poet--the city has a surfeit of excellent contenders.</div><div>
<br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0vJMAXMJv3jTw8t9lsOtZwEDKCNF6bWGBwFoL4BGL4uf5697DAZXUToLmoJelsJD0pvYENljr_9CNaVGJJ7AZJ_ncMzxADZOBEMBHujNOyqMaaMe8aFdu_2yaqkIhgiTJIuN1TQ/s320/july08+051.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639664410711036530" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><div>
<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-12257739489444179692011-08-02T23:40:00.004+02:002011-08-02T23:52:38.477+02:00<blockquote>"Toward the end of the book, Otto and Sophie, the central couple, go to stay in their holiday home. Sophie opens the door to the house, and is immediately reminded of a friend, an artist who used to visit them there; she thinks about him for a page or so. The reason she's thinking about him is that she's staring at something he loved, a vinegar bottle shaped like a bunch of grapes. The reason she's staring a the bottle is because it's in pieces. And the reason it's in pieces is because someone has broken in and trashed the place, a fact we only discover when Sophie has snapped out of her reverie. At this point, I realized with some regret that not only could I never write a literary novel, but I couldn't even be a character in a literary novel. I can only imagine myself, or any character I created, saying"Shit! Some bastard has trashed the house!" No rumination about artist friends--just a lot of cursing..." <i>-Nick Hornby, in his collection of reviews & essays, THE POLYSYLLABIC SPREE.</i></blockquote><div>Initially, I'm distracted less by the house-break-in & more by the idea that any artist would love a bottle shaped like bunch of grapes. But probably I'm a snob about grape-shaped bottles.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm reading this book in my friend Mari-Lou's fantastic garden, over various meals while I'm in Saskatoon. I'm going back to doing book reviews, and Nick Horby's musings about books are just right--cool and slightly fizzy, like really nice not-too-strong ginger beer on a summer afternoon. So I'm hoping he gets me into the right headspace to write intelligent book reviews.</div><div><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTb2xnRXo2YRZLLKz9ioFGeE1Qt7vml9NSbk4V0hrQRw2VtwwlBwdHo-PO1vwCTqAh6-GLjGvXsWh9b-cxYtwRaMpHf7ybKnBTiIwDeTZI07d-JZoFKmCj7y-PgvNgFvOambsYJg/s320/grape+wine+thing.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636379373265454162" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-32590227165461767982011-07-21T17:39:00.007+02:002011-07-21T20:49:51.923+02:00the medium, the message, the McLuhan<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ3hGyCEgO74D603CH1L_pRGJc55HlCIgIe4eXLD6Um_eVzi6d7ysRAOBIyqZGhcposBmvu0-iRVdHKl1fOzQUSoKS_3292G8c_tcyqeCqLdLfAVb4P9giNhoqp9q27Q1Q12MH7g/s320/IMG-20110721-00047.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631878528154295474" /></div>100th anniversary of Marshall McLuhan's birth. the man who essentially invented the field of Communications grew up in Winnipeg. today i went by & photographed his very nice childhood home with my cellphone--seems a most appropriate anniversary nod to the man who said:<div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><blockquote>"When you are on the phone or on the air, you have no body." <i>- <a href="http://marshallmcluhan.com/biography/">Marshall McLuhan</a></i></blockquote></div><div><br /></div><div>Which makes us all the more disembodied today. </div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-6442132788557525502011-07-16T03:36:00.004+02:002011-07-16T03:51:08.093+02:00To tell you the truth... (the writer's equivalent of stage fright)<blockquote>"To tell you the truth, though, I still haven't made up my mind whether I shall publish [<i>Utopia</i>] at all. Tastes differ so widely, and some people are so humourless, so uncharitable, and so absurdly wrong-headed, that one would probably do far better to relax and enjoy life than worry oneself to death trying to instruct or entertain a public which will only despise one's efforts, or at least feel no gratitude for them."</blockquote> wrote Sir Thomas More in 1515 (translated by Paul Turner & quoted by Fay Weldon in her novel, <i>Letters to Alice.) </i><div><i><br /></i></div><div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-18905473944638844012011-07-07T18:50:00.003+02:002011-07-07T19:05:14.449+02:00Richler gazeboSO impressed with Florence Richler's comments about the <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/arts/story/2011/07/06/richler-gazebo-honour-montreal.html">gazebo</a> in Parc Mont Royal which is to be spruced up & dedicated to her late husband, Montreal's best-beloved literary curmudgeon, Mordecai Richler. <div><br /></div><div><blockquote>"Were the graffiti to be left, I think somehow that would have delighted Mordecai because...it would be critical and that was his nature." - Florence Richler</blockquote></div><div><br /></div><div>true, his critical nature didn't make this founder of the "Impure Wool Society" particularly popular with Quebec's powers-that-be. and some other powers-that-be feel the gazebo is simply too small a gesture for such an important writer. but i like the idea. </div><div><br /></div><div>as soon as i'm back in Montreal, i'm taking myself over there with a small appropriate bottle & a copy of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Solomon-Gursky-Here-Mordecai-Richler/dp/0394539958">Solomon Gursky Was Here</a> (my fave of his novels). the gazebo makes such a toast feasible...if they named a street after Richler, one would get run over. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-68159089188056192612011-06-25T22:43:00.007+02:002011-06-26T21:32:27.498+02:00Strangers in Paris<div style="text-align: left;">am so pleased to be part of a new Paris anthology, edited by Megan Fernandes & the illustrious, frequently top-hatted <a href="http://spokenwordparis.blogspot.com/">David Barnes</a>. </div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLjiO6HySvG3K-TR4h8oMr1LJrvnVcbqM3D9gd6gX9fCAb_pFypPYkcqpC4DCKWWsXsxuynsxZTzw9Yt0bataNcSSgfNE1lP9foZgPgsxEO3MhqTc3yym1o8lJoglolhiE-vfRA/s320/strangers-cover.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 207px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622262411282660594" /><div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; "><blockquote>Strangers in Paris is a museum of experience and objects that is anything but iconic; the collection establishes a new hunt for language worthy of a changing city. It is possible to find Paris in these pages, but it is just as possible to find everything else. </blockquote></span></div><div>Launches have been happening in Canada & Paris & New York, and i've somehow managed to be in the wrong city at the wrong time to miss each & every one of them so far...but hey, it's amazing technology, this book thing, possible to experience even if one misses the launch.</div><div><br /></div><div>in the official blurb about the anthology, Tightrope says: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Futura; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; ">The stunning variety of writing in this volume addresses the city of Paris in all its complexity, while challenging the mythology of expatriate Parisian literature. The anthology contains entries as diverse and disparate as an excerpt from John Berger’s novel, <em>Here is Where We Meet</em></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Futura; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; ">; Suzanne Allen’s ekphrastic poetry, a tongue-in-cheek take on the nineteenth-century novel by Helen Cusack O’Keeffe; Canadian writer Lisa Pasold’s story of a forced extended stay in Paris; and an interview with the celebrated American poet Alice Notley.</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Futura; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; "><br /></span></div><div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAIG3vBncpr65yuKXdmYqW7v4ChZqyU569PZZDMMNm8qstXcZ6e9kAunS0Nffts2gxHMnYVD50FL6vUsMk8gs064Qf70txxjBdumkDfH66l30wWJH6hWmW7MJuGjDneoV8I5zvcw/s320/KGB+from+Monday+Night+Poetry.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622611372327230162" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px; "></span></div></div><div><br /></div><div>i'm so pleased to be part of the book...and i'm particularly sorry i missed the KGB event, as it was one of my favourite literary booze locations when i lived in New York back in the dark ages (ie. the Giuliani years). i wonder if <a href="http://www.readrussia.com/magazine/winter-2009/00009/">KGB</a> (above) still has the series of Stalin's official photographs--where Stalin's colleagues were mysteriously air-brushed out over the years, very creepily.</div></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Futura; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Futura; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; ">order info for the book <a href="http://tightropebooks.com/strangers-in-paris-new-writing-inspired-by-the-city-of-light/">here</a>...or find it at Shakespeare & Co in Paris.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-23707580014400293322011-06-20T05:11:00.007+02:002011-06-20T05:21:50.574+02:00Montreal street corner<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZgYCLpkaJ3_-RxB3KUTWD1T9IUKE_MAPUzSt1WYLXIXaE4atchzL08gb6nkpRvXgSxi2cILc_IBmoHdbbOGTCQizSwyzEkW3cqtfFKhX6Be7D4liuqrNTOvO8GrwAkXNWdGTbQ/s1600/IMG_4199.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVZgYCLpkaJ3_-RxB3KUTWD1T9IUKE_MAPUzSt1WYLXIXaE4atchzL08gb6nkpRvXgSxi2cILc_IBmoHdbbOGTCQizSwyzEkW3cqtfFKhX6Be7D4liuqrNTOvO8GrwAkXNWdGTbQ/s320/IMG_4199.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620135236508460466" border="0" /></a>standing at the corner of Saint-Laurent & Laurier, i notice this plaque by Gilbert Boyer. i've only walked past this corner a thousand or so times since this was installed in 1988, to notice it for the first time on this appropriately hot lazy Montreal day. perhaps i've just never before waited for the light to change...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix01QTVthYz0nXiqf7XGMgowWYnr_mg2Dqvow-fTcjBDuOZD5c_T5N-Sotq_YgAzrwdK0yvCbis7BHFF4z4cQ18nexNz8xi9lLrHexauTk7iDO7SIlIUJ1sK_DI5RQ2H-TrdrLuw/s1600/IMG_4202.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix01QTVthYz0nXiqf7XGMgowWYnr_mg2Dqvow-fTcjBDuOZD5c_T5N-Sotq_YgAzrwdK0yvCbis7BHFF4z4cQ18nexNz8xi9lLrHexauTk7iDO7SIlIUJ1sK_DI5RQ2H-TrdrLuw/s320/IMG_4202.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620135240358514866" border="0" /></a>this corner is part of a larger project--the whole layout of the art piece is <a href="http://plepuc.org/fr/oeuvre/comme-un-poisson-dans-la-ville">here</a>, but i'm going to keep Boyer's words in reserve, to stumble across serendipitously when the weather's just right.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-7391279138911053392011-06-05T19:13:00.008+02:002011-06-05T21:14:04.558+02:00eating & reading Savannah<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtd_MomfbVDHUl7Y1V7vySc_imILIPH302D6jW8a_r7jqTEe1vQ8G7XTyJpUY4aQkM2uDeI_J_F6z11a2rm1L_ujZsajAPfQMq27y03konC_2EqgKhL-mnUbF7apo_pBxni8soOA/s1600/IMG_4176.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtd_MomfbVDHUl7Y1V7vySc_imILIPH302D6jW8a_r7jqTEe1vQ8G7XTyJpUY4aQkM2uDeI_J_F6z11a2rm1L_ujZsajAPfQMq27y03konC_2EqgKhL-mnUbF7apo_pBxni8soOA/s320/IMG_4176.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614793975430449250" border="0" /></a>The sidewalk in Savannah, Georgia, shines with mother-of-pearl from the old oyster shells buried in the concrete. Forget streets paved with gold...i'll take oyster shells any day. Mostly to eat (because there is no better town for food in the whole USofA). But the streets are also wonderful for book-browsing, as i discovered when i stumbled upon the marvellous indie bookshop E. Shaver Booksellers, which nestles beneath the Spanish moss of a live oak.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBqa-BhLn0FHaeotd5g_TPVie-_-2a1892V71xQ5fLQi0WfRz-UOjcHQxiybPOkJXwZF7UzwZ9M0xx_WuzfrcAHl3Z2a6CyubTKwjQe5i4bG0nw2X5rRsTkC4s16Foa3miWbweyw/s1600/IMG_4179.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 309px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBqa-BhLn0FHaeotd5g_TPVie-_-2a1892V71xQ5fLQi0WfRz-UOjcHQxiybPOkJXwZF7UzwZ9M0xx_WuzfrcAHl3Z2a6CyubTKwjQe5i4bG0nw2X5rRsTkC4s16Foa3miWbweyw/s320/IMG_4179.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614793974204831538" border="0" /></a>I expected a shop dedicated to tourist books & innumerable editions of <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Midnight_in_the_Garden_of_Good_and_Evil">Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil</a> (which kicked off the historical district's relentless walking tours). But Esther Shaver's bookshop is much much more, a real resource for readers and writers. See what i mean by checking out their <a href="http://http//savannahnow.com/accent/2011-05-05/recommended-reading-list-e-shaver-booksellers">current recommended reading list</a>--the kind of bookshop where you can throw a dart & know you'll hit something interesting. (no, don't actually DO this or you'll stab the bookseller.)<br /><br />After Shaver's, i walked around wondering what <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Midnight</span> author John Berendt is working on these days. His follow-up to <span style="font-style: italic;">Midnight </span>was a book about Venice, which didn't suit him so well as the lazy hot streets of Savannah. I tried to be positive when i reviewed his <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">City of Falling Angels</span> for The Globe & Mail in 2005: '<span style="font-style: italic;">Berendt's charm as a raconteur suits the narrow Venetian streets, but some of his stories lead straight into a dead-end calle.'</span><br /><br />Later, i read an even more cutting review by Jan Morris, travel writer & Venice expert extraordinaire. Reviews are hard...should you always be honest? Well, yes... But i still love <span style="font-style: italic;">Midnight in the Garden</span>. And wandering around Savannah as a tourist, it's hard to imagine the city without Berendt's book.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >ps. <a href="http://savannahnow.com/do/2010-01-27/bookstores-savannah-glimpse-places-find-books-book-clubs-and-book-related-activities">here</a></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >'s a full list of bookshops in Savannah, including Shaver's address</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-40695096767703613802011-05-22T00:25:00.002+02:002011-05-22T00:28:02.301+02:00inspired Orlandoa big thank you to everyone who made the 'Don't Just Sit There' workshop happen in Orlando! i had a wonderful time talking writing with people today. such a gorgeous day, too...i felt honoured that people spent their beautiful Saturday cloistered in a room with me, discussing the writing life. it was especially interesting talking about WHERE we write best...and it's not always the most beautiful and comfortable chair in the house...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-10095865268567203642011-04-25T19:22:00.004+02:002011-04-26T20:52:10.003+02:00taking a bite out of malariatoday is the 4th annual World Malaria Day. for the first time in 50 years, we might actually be able to defeat malaria--which killed 781 000 people in 2009. take a second to digest that number. it's a crazy number, especially when a simple mosquito net can vastly cut the infection rate.<br /><br />what's inspiring about this? we're actually making progress--a rare & wonderful reason to celebrate this day.<br /><br /><img src="http://www.worldmalariaday.org/images/world_malaria_day_en.gif" alt="" usemap="#Map" border="0" height="112" width="179" /><br /><map name="Map" id="Map"><br /> <area shape="rect" coords="89,10,178,102" href="http://www.rollbackmalaria.org/worldmalariaday/" alt="Roll Back Malaria"><br /><area shape="rect" coords="0,10,89,102" href="http://www.worldmalariaday.org/" alt="World Malaria Day 2009"><br /></map>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31899902.post-5265487684175091792011-04-08T16:24:00.006+02:002011-04-08T16:55:45.351+02:00hot chocolate, writing, and Belarusvery flattered to be included in Janet Skeslien Charles' interview series with writers in Paris. with the gorgeous weather, we sat outside at Place Colette & talked writing... check out <a href="http://www.jskesliencharles.com/2011/04/lisa-pasold/">Janet's blog here</a><br /><br />weirdly, we realized that we've both been escorted from a train in Belarus at gun-point. Janet managed to get a temporary visa, whereas i got sent back to Warsaw--perhaps the regime had simply gotten harsher over time. my original goal was Moscow, where i was hoping to arrive at this lovely train station.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5lKRoEjXEwY-JSEsEFugW4xRlt9FBiSjT5kRYs97wzxzUskaUnZR6HnvwM1HmL0wXIyxJKCswSbwch2SP6j_KmuxwldHDjTLQsE71hrfUDjllk9VemD2Se97X_cbakdDiWXTF-w/s1600/moscow+belorussky.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5lKRoEjXEwY-JSEsEFugW4xRlt9FBiSjT5kRYs97wzxzUskaUnZR6HnvwM1HmL0wXIyxJKCswSbwch2SP6j_KmuxwldHDjTLQsE71hrfUDjllk9VemD2Se97X_cbakdDiWXTF-w/s320/moscow+belorussky.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593224604458207042" border="0" /></a>i did eventually get to Moscow, and ate a memorable breakfast across from the train station. but i wonder if either of us will ever really visit Belarus? the new national <a href="http://www.mediaarchitecture.org/national-librarybelarus/">library</a> is vast and sparkling. very Orwellian--a huge symbol of freedom of expression in a country known for censorship.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzdp8a8YtnMVoLTapywUYJU7-7ydexXRB5-DI85jZH2-nXgxqOlatlX8FrraXHKVurofyoN2i1uyYjNuGs8j4dBLWRG9I7x-6uiOqNkDwO0iX0gnwpswfM_MZK6wzCB2Cf2_JeZw/s1600/library.jpg"><br /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0