A new foray into video poetry.
How we get here
As a new Gabriola resident, i’m noticing things about my new home — like the marked weather difference between here and Tofino, my previous digs.
Another striking first impression for the visitor or new arrival is the Quinsam, and its central place in island life, and how dealing with the ferry — the oddball departure times; the godsend Ferry Cam; the line-up, with its stringent etiquette and elaborate positioning strategies; the pastimes whiling away the long waits — are all part of island life and lore.
Pretty much everything and everyone on the island come across on that ferry — every coffee cup and bean, every bag of chips, every litre of propane, band-aid and e-bike, along with every customer in every shop. The Quinsam is absolutely intrinsic to island life and economy. Continue reading “The Quinsam’s climate cost”
Well, the die is cast: my “temporary” summer stay at my sweetie’s place on Gabriola Island (a 20-minute ferry ride from Nanaimo) has become my permanent residence, as of a couple of weeks ago, when i made the decision not to return to Tofino in September.
My reasons are many, but here’s the main one: After a year and a half doing the long-distance relationship, with Leah driving up to Tuff or me bussing down to Gabe every couple of weeks, it was time to get together and stay together. The regular change of scenery was stimulating, i’ll admit, but the travel was wearing. I don’t know how couples can do it long-term. Continue reading “Hello, Gabe”
Per my last blog post, i waltzed through Jane Austen’s novel Persuasion in a couple of weeks — pretty speedy by the standards of someone who does 95% of my reading on screen. But a chapter or two a day gets through the thing. At first it was like climbing a hill, frequently losing the sense of those long, wandering sentences, getting distracted, rereading. But as the story gathered momentum, and my literary perseverance developed, it became easier, and then a pleasure, to pick up the book. I even took to reading regularly in the evenings, something i rarely do.
It was also a vaguely disturbing book to read, in that pretty much the entire action is the British upper crust — landed gentry, with money and basically no useful function in society — struggling and scheming to occupy, amuse or advance themselves and their family, in fairly cut-throat fashion. Continue reading “Gentry then and now”
With the warm weather, it occurred to me to revisit an old summer tradition: the tackling of a classic novel. I’ve had ol’ Chuck Dickens’ Bleak House (‘the ultimate legal novel’) on my list for a long while, so i popped into a Nanaimo used bookstore to see if they had a copy. On a tall double shelf labelled ‘Classics’ i found lots of Dickens books, but not that one. I also noticed lots of something else: dead white males, who apparently compose the vast bulk of our ‘classics’ canon.
With one glaring exception: this particular shelf held half a metre of Jane Austen novels. So in solidarity with the feminine, i picked up one of those: Persuasion. Which i’m three chapters into, and making heavy weather of, thanks to the long, looping multi-clausal sentences that are the hallmark of the pre-modern period. Here, for illustration, is the first sentence of the novel (which is also most of the first paragraph):