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I’ll give myself a topic today—I’ll write a bit about what I’m reading. What I’ve been reading.

I am tired and distracted, so this entry will be neither very long nor very good.

For the last few months, I’ve mostly been reading stuff about Victorians and English literature. A big book about the loss of traditional faith in God that occurred over the course of the late 18th and 19th centuries, and a book by Peter Ackroyd about the history of the English imagination — which was one of the most enthralling things I’ve ever read. Both of those lent to be by Handler Daniel, of the puppy play set—a group that has gone a long way towards keeping me sane during these months. Almost sane; not quite sane. It’s been impossible to keep quite sane.

I’ve been too busy living through things to write. The paradox of this endeavour.

Read a lot of academic papers and the like. I hope I didn’t copy anything too closely to call it plagiarism. I did not intend this at any point, but it’s hard to keep track sometimes. Going back to what I said yesterday about getting back into the academic mindset: my notes are messy. I hope I didn’t do that; I didn’t want to do that; I don’t think I did that.

I read a big history of jazz (A Short History of Jazz, actually, but it’s a big book nonetheless) by Ted Gioia, which remade my listening patterns. I have always had warm feelings for jazz, and have always listened to it plenty; have always felt a sort of kinship to it—as I’ve said to Mark or was it that he said it to me, if our writing is music than he’s classical and I’m jazz. I improvise. This may very well be thin sauce to someone who both understands music and has read my writing. At least I understand the history of it a bit more. I listen to lot of that and R&B lately. These tracks warm up the winter weeks.

Right now? I’m reading a book on the post-WW2 music of New Orleans, the R&B and the rock and the blues. Professor Longhair, Fats Domino, Huey “Piano” Smith, Allen Toussaint. Etc. Written in the wake of Katrina. Some pages devoted to that devastation that I came to late to truly understand. A gift from my cousin Makenna, who was my secret Santa in the Moore family secret Santa that I joined for the first time this year. (I got Aunt Moe a breakfast cookbook). It is peppering my personal soundtrack with the same enthusiasm that the Jazz book did.

During my week and a bit off, I read though The Idylls of the King properly from start to finish. Copy that I got from the library. I had read selections from it; not the whole thing. And I still went ahead and based my proposal on it. But I thought I should actually read the thing if I’m going ahead with it.

Very good book; stark and depressing. The fall of an impossible dream. Men cannot be Angels. Etc. I have a lot to work with.

At some point I ought to return to Browning, too. I have a scrivener file where I’m putting together notes and an outline. I figure it’s not too soon to start, especially if I get in a program that only lasts a year. Although I would like to read some other things as well, before I’m in a program and consumed.

I’m talking like it’s a done deal. Let us not count our chickens.

I will go and warm up dinner soon. Leftovers: a slice of pie and some veggies. For now, I write what comes to mind, listen to McCoy Tyner and sip at Nikka whiskey. I got the whiskey for Christmas. The last few weeks have been a time of pain; now is the time to let life reconsolidate, now is the time to understand the moments as they pass again. Now is the time to breathe without fear: this is every time, but sometimes we forget.

I am slowly beginning to finish up my outstanding writing projects. Cafe Noir Poems, right now—I will send that in to Cactus Press as two more chapbooks, the part II and the part III. I will be grateful to be done with that project; it is uncomfortable to work on, and it gives me nightmares. Then I have Motion Blur printed out and I will send that to Gaspereau once Ive given it a once-over with Willow’s notes on hand. I’ve removed The Countess of Haight’s Arcadia and put it in Lola, which helps it a lot.

Lola comes next. I had been stuck on that for a very long time, then I realized what I needed to do in a flurry of inspiration while at LAX while having dinner near my gate. I edited and restructured it as I finished a beer and then in my seat on the plane going homewards. I make reference to that in the poetry.

I am nearly done going through Vancouver Observed Through a Glass Window, too. Went to see Cali read from her book (her book is out! This Too Shall Passive Aggressive; it is wonderful, read it) at the downtown library again, and had a chance to talk to another writer who had been reading about self-publishing. Got some good tips and his email. I have hope with where that is going, and I don’t have hope as-such very much.

Then I want to put Faithlessly Yours out after that. I’ll give it another once over and add a preface.

Then I have Floating; Willow will eventually get back to me about that, and I’ll have a few months.

These are the things I want to get done before I disappear for my Graduate studies. I want them out of the way and then I don’t want to have to worry about my projects for a few years. I will, of course, pull myself into projects—but I want THOSE ones in the past. They have already overstayed their welcome.

Oh, and that one other short one too. Sharp, Tender Shock. I forget about that one.

I write too much.

After that… I don’t know. I have some ideas. I have to complete my master outline, and I have Hotel Europe. I think I’m about ready for Hotel Europe.

But none of you have any idea what I’m talking about, and why should you.

I do need to get around to posting this stuff online soon. That website is languishing.

One more gulp of Nikka… and let me finish this piece, it’s McCoy Tyner again—and then I’m gone upstairs to dinner. Goodnight.

 

Tomorrow I begin the final draft of the Research Proposal I am sending to McGill, which is due on the 15th. I was not well enough a few days ago, as I was still lacking up half a lung. I want it done; I want it over with; I want to be able to think of other thinks. It’s pay day, so I must do my banking as well. I must send reminders to my two references. I must begin my vacation sheet. I have things to do. Work is at 2pm: I have time. I just need to remember them all. I would rather be finishing those projects I listed above.

Warmed up some leftovers in the oven while we watched The Black Stallion. Beautiful images, Germaine gave grandpa some lucky lager that she had bought for her son but which he wouldn’t take: we had two cans each. I poured the last of the second can of mine down the sink while I was cleaning up. I hope I don’t feel it in the morning. I have things to do in the morning; it would be a shame. It’s not even good beer.

Nearly half of my entries here from 2024 were in May, and most of those were never posted. My trip to England. I do mean to go back and post them, sometime. Perhaps when the website is properly updated. Who knows?