The sparking Jean Manky over at Event mag interviewed me a little while ago.
I was right about here on the Okanagan Connector this morning, listening to the news and thinking, “Wow, I’m getting radio reception a lot further than usual,” when they announced Alice Munro had won the Nobel Prize. Glee suffused me. Delight and a sense of rightness. I laughed out loud. I grinned. I chortled. “We reached Alice Munro in Victoria, just after 4 a.m.,” the newscast went on, and then reception cut out. But I did not mind. I replayed Alice Munro stories in my head. I wanted, in one of those thousandth-of-a-second blips in which I forget my mother is dead, to call her. She’d be gleeful, too. She’d be laughing the same delighted laugh, replaying the stories in her head. We could do it together.
Now I am going to glory awhile in Alice Munro. I’m going to re-read stories. I’m going to listen to the Peter Gzoswki interview Cindy told me they played on the Current. I’m going to remember my mother.
I clearly do not have blog-mind, at least in the use-your-blog-to-promote-your-events sense, cause it only occurred to me I should have written something about Word Vancouver after it was over. (It was great, by the way. bill bissett on the poetry bus was a force of nature.) But now I’m trying to cultivate blog-mind, so I’m posting to let you know the Victoria Writers Festival is coming up and I’ll be doing a reading on the Friday night, Oct 17, and a workshop on the Saturday. Next, I’m joining twitter. And following people. And getting them to follow me. And counting my followers. And following my followers. Doesn’t “follow” sound like “hallo” after a while? Like it means something totally other than “follow”?
1. On That Sitno
Beyond the Courtyards
Don’t you even touch me
2. When the Draft Card Was Handed to Me
I won’t get married yet
3. The little dog-rose
The boys used to come
4. In our little brook
Let’s drink, boys, Let’s drink the wine
Drink — we would!
5. Let me in peace, naughty women
6. The wine has not fermented yet
Wine, wine, red wine
Don’t drink, Jackie, don’t drink water
7. The moon shines
Dove, dove, little dove
8. Swift waters flow through the village
The wind blows over the oat ears
In the centre of the village