radfrac_archive_full: (dichotomy)
I want to keep up more regular posting here, but I've also finally started organizing/writing/creating the Other Blog, and that has left me drained. So here is -- some stuff.

Random Logistical Stuff

I still have not decided what the Next Thing is.

Everything is fine, except that everything about my life is about to be in need of repair and I don't have the funds, even the fake funds, to repair it.

From the ground up, off the top of my head: )

Meanwhile, I am a member of two reading groups now: )

Also am in magical working group and may join editorial collective of the online magazine I review for. Also am taking the film course and theoretically at least writing a conference paper for November. Oh,and taking the massive open online course through the Kelly Writers' House, ModPo (Modern American Poetry.)

Is that enough things? Probably, right? Oh, I have some reviews coming due now that the summer hiatus is over.

Also figuring out that Next Thing. Which is the only important thing in all of this, and the only thing I'm not doing, which I guess means I am doing it, passively. This thought, though, is depressing, so let's return to the immediate conditions of my life, which, as I have said are -- good.

For example: I spent most of yesterday reading in parks, which was as brilliant as it sounds. )

Today after the poetry group I went to the beach and had a very brief, very cold swim in the ocean. I wanted to have swum again before the end of the summer (which this only technically is.) Then a long walk not exactly home -- all along Beach Drive, through the golf course, where offshore (or: Offshore!) a red and white sailboat was struggling against fresh whitecaps under an enormous moon.

There was a complicated business involving urination and bushes and deceptively steep slopes and somewhere in there I lost my bamboo mat. but generally -- a good sort of day. That tends to mean walks and books and feats of extremely minor derring-do.

radfrac_archive_full: (hunnybear)
This year hardly had the smell of summer -- the essence of things baked out by the sun, like a many-coloured smoke. Today the wild pea vines are almost finished blooming, and their silver cover of powdery mildew made me think of frost.

I finally had a proper summer weekend, though I had to wait until September for it. Saturday you know. Sunday I woke up at eight, which was in good time to show up for the SPCA dog walk fundraiser, so on a lark I went down to Clover Point.

We ate a pancake breakfast out in the ocean air. The wasps were few and lazy and hardly troubled us. Blue sky for your dome and all that. Lovely. And all the sizes and shapes of dogs around you.

I met up with [livejournal.com profile] lemon_pickle, [livejournal.com profile] inlandsea, [livejournal.com profile] naomibellis and sundry others, and we did the walk. Then [livejournal.com profile] lemon_pickle mentioned the Sooke Potholes, and the star of my destiny was fixed above a waterfall.

The parking machine was broken, so we imitated other cars and left two dollars on the dash as proof of good intent.

Of course we walked up past the unfinished hotel, the stone foundation and monumental fireplace like the ruins of a castle, and climbed the fence (with some assistance from other kind felons to cantilever the dogs over) to the best stretch of the stream. Cold green pools in cups of stone.

We swam against the current up through the rocks and the miniature rapids. The dark pool under the arced stone. The narrow pass beyond it. And then the waterfall. White as foaming light. The wild pool clawing at its feet. The rocks like the open chambers of a stone heart, curved and sharp like petals.

At one point I was trying to hoist myself up onto a stone using upper-body strength, already diminished by the cold and the unfamiliar effort. "Come on arms, you can do it, come on... okay, ass, you take over." And I wedged myself up as gracefully as a drunken manatee.

At home and the desk, I didn't exactly study Shakespeare, but I did make my edition much more fabulous via some scrapbooking techniques.

radfrac_archive_full: (Ben Butley)
Woke up at 7:33, which meant I had no excuse not to go swimming, so I went swimming. I got about halfway there, walking carefully on the crazy-quilt of crunchy snow, white ice, black ice, and wet pavement, and then I realized that I was only wearing one shirt.

It's a good shirt; it's my Pike Place Market Seattle Debauchery Souvenir shirt, burgundy, with four pictures of a fish in various stages of disrepair and the legend CATCH ME BEAT ME COOK ME EAT ME.

What it isn't is the shirt I usually swim in. Well then, I thought: this must be the day I've decided to swim shirtless.

*Man* can you go faster without the extra material. It's a close-fitting muscle shirt, but the difference is impressive. The freedom! I still had to let the guy in the lane lap me, but I must have cut ten percent off my swim time.

I'm getting better in the locker room, too. )



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