Focus

Focus is a Dutch prog-rock band I love. I have an mp3 collection with Moving Waves, In & Out of, 3, Hamburger Concerto as well as some of Thijs Van Leer’s solo work. I can clearly recall hearing the amazing Hocus Pocus ‘yodel’ that, thanks to excellent engineering, & stunning guitar work, would bounce around a room, or inside your head if you were wearing headphones.

Similar to British prog-rockers the Nice, or Pink Floyd but less music-hall & more jazz & unexpectedly heavy metal at times. The music was sonically dense, crisply engineered and captivating. Leader Thijs played keyboards & flute & one his solo lps proved to be an accomplished classical musician as well.

The band never did ‘songs’ – there are a few attempts but they lacked a vocalist. Long instrumental suites, sometimes aggressive but usually contemplative. I checked iTunes and they recorded as recently as 2016 so they are still around.

 

Nearby on the shelf is Foreigner: Agent Provocateur, Unusual Heat. One of those almost super groups with members from other British bands: King Crimson, Stories – this is solid metal rock with blues base & solid song writing. I Wanna Know What Love is is an amazingly emotional piece of work that is unlike most of their work.

The gay guide was mostly in French. He knew the basics: cuir = leather; commericals = hustlers; enough to avoid what he didn’t want. Too bad what he didn’t want was as out of his reach as what he wanted.

He took a quick shower, rinsed his socks and underwear. He lay on top of the bed with a dry towel over his chest. Cool air through the open window tickled his public hair.

What could he do? Should he go down and join the new arrivals? Is that what one did here? Guests mingle at sunset. Without Patrick he didn’t know what was right. But that light was red. He could go down and ask about a restaurant. Or would that make him look hopeless and alone?

He got dressed, made sure he had his room key and walked down the stairs. He stopped at lounge and looked in. Two of the new arrivals were still there. Both appeared to Mike be in their late 20’s. In almost matching jeans. The taller, clean shaven, had very short hair cut the other a head of loose reddish curls and he needed a shave.

The taller of them smiled at him. “Hej, taler du Engelsk. … Sorry I mean English you speak or French.”

“English.” Mike answer. He thought a moment. “Besøg fra Danmark.”

“Ja. Ja. Du taler dansk?”

“Ingen. I have had some Danish students though. I know a few words in many languages. Vaša prva poseta Kanadi?”

“Huh?”

“A little Bosnian.”

“You are teacher. Here?”

“Not in Montreal. I teach ESL. (plant this info earlier). English as a second language. I am from Halfiax.”

“Yes. I know Nova Scotia.”

“Right.”

“I am Eluf, this is Tyge.”

Mike shook hands with them.

“We are both from Odense.”

“On your honeymoon?” Mike asked.

“Ingen.” Tyge blushed. “A field trip?” He looked to Eluf to made sure he had said the right thing.

“Field trip?”

“We are seeing how alternative lifestyles are supported in other countries.” Eluf explained. “For university.”

“Are all of you here on a field trip? I mean when i cam in there were others with you. Here.”

“Ingen. We met them first time. They go to supper.” Tyge said.

“If you are doing nothing you could come.”

“Come! Yes he can come.” Eluf began to laugh. “Come is (some Danish sex slang for shooting off.)”

Their laughter was contagious and Mike joined in. “I would like to dine with you. Coming with you we’ll have to talk about later?”

“Good. Good. Then we can go to the fireworks.” Tyge pointed to a flyer on the wall of fireworks. Mike read it carefully to make sure that it was in fact for a fireworks display and not some bar event.

“Sure. Why not.” Mike said. “You’ll needed warner coats though. Gets cool fast & it’ll be even cooler by the river.”

“Righta said Nutteta.” Tyge playfully punched Mike in the arm.

“I’ll get coats.” Eluf went up the stairs.

“Nutteta?” Mike asked.

“Yes. I give you Danish name. Means … cute. Yes. Nuttet means I can call you cute and only Eluf will know.”

“Thanks, I guess. You think I’m nuttet?”

“That comes as surprise? Yes I forget in America the young gays don’t find experience men … sexy. Not me.” He squeezed Mike’s ass.

“Here is your coat.” Eluf came into the room. “It is much warmer now than when I went upstairs.” He looked knowing at Tyge. “You have been flirting again.”

“Ja. Kan du bebrejde mig?”

“Er han gammel mand nok til dig?”

“Huh?” Mike said as they put their coats on.

“Elug wanted to know if you were mature enough for me.”

“Tyge usually goes for the grandfather.” Eluf laughed. “You are not that old.”

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered on not.”

They walked up to corner of St H and St C. Eluf hailed a cab. The three of them crowded in the back seat with Mike in the middle. Eluf quickly gave the driver an address.

“You know Montreal?” Mike asked.

“Research. He is taking us to Pou-Pou Palais. According to guide it has the best poutine in Montreal.”

“We have never had poutine. I must try it once. You are a fan of poutine?”

“Can’t say that I am.” Mike said trying to stay focused as Tyge’s hand moved along his inner thigh. He was tempted to push the hand away. “Do you have enough room.” He inched away. “Am I sitting on you?”

“Not yet.” Tyge answered with a wide grin. “Would you like to be?”

He and Eluf burst into uncontrolled laughter.

So this is what I’ve been hiding from by being with Patrick. Using our relationship, no it was never than, using our hook ups to be safe.

The taxi pulled up at Pou-Pou Palais. Eluf paid the driver before Mike could offer. It more a take out restaurant with only two large round tables for sitting. Each table could seat ten. Mike explained as best he could the tables where shared. That strangers would often sit together to eat.

The menu boasted “soixante-dix-sept variétés délicieuses.” He scanned the lists which were organized by main toppings. Each type had its own number. Plus you could “crée le tien” by picking your own toppings. He wondered if there was a salt free option. He watched as another customer picked up their order. It was huge. The fries were dripping with dark gravy, on top of which was chunks of bacon and what appeared to be avocado and beans.

The Danish guys both opted for the traditionnel. Mike ordered  the Grec that added gyros meat and replaced the gravy with tzatziki. It would be almost healthy.

For some reason the food silenced Eluf and Tyge. They took photos as the chef prepared their meals and of the finished product. After their first few bites each typed in notes on their cell phones. He expected them to take pictures of each other next. But they didn’t.

“You have enjoyed your pou-pou?” Tyge asked him. “Oh you do have the rich sauce. It is very nice.” He dipped a finger into the tzatziki left on the bottom of Mike’s bowl. “Mmm … comes alive in the mouth.”

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HotDamn! It’s A Queer Slam

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November 1-30
2018

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June – dates t.b.a – Capturing Fire 2018 – Washington D.C.


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You can care about social justice and care about your own happiness, too.

Let's Queer Things Up!

It feels strange to write a headline like this.

On the one hand, maybe it should be obvious — we all deserve to have joy, pursue meaningful connections and experiences, and invest in our own mental health. But somewhere along the way, I think I forgot what it meant to be happy just for the sake of it. And based on the burnout I’ve seen, I don’t think I’m the only one.

I was talking to my online therapist recently about how (yet again) a post about sexual assault on my Facebook feed had triggered my obsessive-compulsive disorder. When he gently suggested I take a deeper look at my social media usage, the conversation that ensued drudged up a lot of intense realizations about how I view happiness and self-care.

Namely, that I wasn’t giving myself permission to unplug, because I viewed that as betraying my values.

I realized…

View original post 1,344 more words

Lazarus Kiss.45

Sis amplexibus Amor alios mututa memini et amoris in mutationes memini.

May you be embraced by a love beyond recall that alters others

and a love within recall that alters you.

kiss

As they crossed to the Eaton’s food court Harris spotted Becky. Their eyes met briefly but he didn’t acknowledge her. He’d learned his lesson the other day. One remembered rejection was enough for him. At least the curse had been sparing him that.

As they were going into Eaton’s Harris heard a woman calling him.

“Harris! Harris! Hold a minute.”

It was Becky.

“Look I truly am sorry for being such a snob the other day.”

“I see.” he glanced at Lin. “Uh … Becky this is Lin Zhang. Did I pronounce that right Lin?”

“Very nicely Harris.”

They stepped out of the way.

“I’d love to see you again Harris. We could meet at Mug Thuggs.”

“I guess so, but you said … boyfriend etc.”

“I know what I said. Things are iffy but it’s not like …. I’d just like to get together with you again. I did enjoy myself.”

Why did she care … oh Christ … was this the latest variation the curse.

“I may be busy tonight. I’m not sure what time I’ll be free.”

“I’ll be there. Until about 10, say?”

“Okay.”

She pecked him on the cheek and disappeared into the lunch crowd.

“You see this is why I have to put on some weight. Women like men of substance. It makes them feel secure.” Lin grinned.

“I have never heard that theory before Lin.” Harris said following Lin into the shopping centre.

“And she smells like candy I want to be eating.”

As they rode the escalator down his cellphone rang.

“Harris here.”

“Hi Harris it’s Alex.”

“What’s up?” Harris’s heart sped up.

“Look do ya know how to clean a computer.”

“You mean the hard drive? That’s not my end of the business.”

“No. The screen. Stuff got splashed it.”

“Hum …” Harris nodded at Lin and then towards Big Eats – Where Everything Is Supersized. “I usually call maintenance when that happens here. I’ll see what I can find out and call you back later.”

“I’s hopin’ ya might come by later an’ help.”

“I could drop by after work. Where do you live?”

Alex started to give him the address.

“Wait I’m going to have to write this down. Or better yet why don’t you text me the address.”

“T’anks. I really appreciate this.”

The afternoon at dE.tail was endless as Harris fussed with minutia to satisfy the Sport Spot people. Faces that looked fresh and perfect to him were sent back with a request to make the freckles a shade fainter, to change the trailing arch of an eyebrow. Internet consumers we’re going to buy this overpriced equipment because a Top Model’s eyebrow had one or two less hairs in it.

They were more likely to buy it because it came in a range of colors. This was the only innovation Sport Spot offered. No amount of re-sized genitalia was going to change that fact. Now if Geoffrey were spokesperson for Santa’s Sex Shoppe that would be a different story. At least Harris would have had a glimpse of the real thing, all be it as a silicone duplicate as battery operated dildo. Andy would have three legs.

He took one brief break to text maintenance to send up something to clean his monitor screen. They replied there were kits in the supply closet.

He groaned when a photo he had worked on twice came back with a further request for facial toning. Tired from the hour overtime already put in he slightly heightened the gleam of the lavender LatteLat machine and sent it back without doing anything to the model’s face. He got an instant reply that it was perfect.

He left before they could make more requests.

*39*

As Harris exited Chester, the subway station nearest Alex he texted that he’d be there shortly.

Alex lived on the second floor of a house a few streets north. Large open front porch with a couple of lawn chairs. Bright pink geraniums in pots and hanging baskets of fuscia and baby’s breath.

He rang the bell and while he waited he wondered if his balcony got enough light for this kind of plant. Alex never struck him as the plant type.

“T’anks for comin’.” Alex held the door open for him. He wore a loose UofT polo shirt and baggy grey sweats.

After a day of working on Geoffrey’s pecs, abs and other attributes Harris was relieved that none of Alex’s attributes were suggested.

“No prob. Got tied up at work.” He had to brush by Alex to step in. His flabby stomach felt even flabbier as it briefly came into contact with Alex’s. He looked up the stairs to keep their eyes from meeting.

He walked up as fast as he could. How large did his ass look. What difference did that make.

The apartment door opened directly into a small living room. TV to one side of the door. A dresser to the other side. Photos of Alex along the wall by the door. The apartment smelled of a vanilla body-wash from a recent showered.

Harris slipped off his shoulder bag. Rested it on the dresser and opened it to get out the cleaning kit.

“I got this as the office.”

“T’anks. Get ya a beer? Sapporo chilling in the fridge?”

“Sure.”
“I know at’s what ya get at Story.” He put the two Sapporo on the coffee table.

“Nah.” Harris was flattered and puzzled. This was the curse but no one had been this attentive as a result of it. If it were Monica Bostford he’d know exactly what to do, and would want to do it. He had no idea of where to begin with Alex but desire would probably be a good starting point. He felt no desire.

“Where’s the …” he hoped it wasn’t in the bedroom.

It wasn’t. The computer desk faced a bay window on the other side of the living room.

“What happened.” He leaned over to look at the smear.

“Spooge.”

“Spooge?”

“Mine.” Alex blushed. “M’ ex Linda found it on a pair of her delicates an’ to get back at me smeared it.”

“Spooge?”

“Come.”

“Got it.” Harris hit his head in mock stupidity. “Tilt the screen for me. That way when I spray, it won’t drip into the monitor. At least that the theory.”

He squirted the small spray bottle to mist the bulk of the smear.

“I’ll give it a minute to soften the spooge residue.”

“Spooge residue” Alex grinned. “Never heard that not even on CSI.”

Their eyes met for the first time. They both laughed.

“Hold it while I see if this’ll clean it off.” With the soft cloth Alex gently wiped the screen. “I think that’s done it.”

Alex set the screen back in place.

Harris moved a throw cushion and sat on the couch to drink his beer. “Homey. You lived here long.” He got up and walked over the computer again.

“ ‘Bout five years. M’ Da owns the house. Owns a couple.” Alex sat next to Harris. Adjusted the the cushion between them.

“I see.”

“Yeah. Last few years I shared it Linda. She left th’ other week. I t’ink I told ya. It wasn’t workin’ any more. Ya know t’ings ‘appen. She though’ I was sleepin’ ‘round an’ … it’s not as if she wasn’t either but … ”

Their eyes met again.

Harris noticed the trophies shoved into a corner by Alex’s computer. He stood and picked up one. It was a round, metallic column about five inches tall with a gold kick-boxer on top. “Best Senior Division Boys”

“So how did you get into U F?” Harris hoped knowing more about Alex would ease the longing the curse had forced upon him.

“First grade bullies ata new school pushed me ‘round. I went nuts. Beat the crap out o’one of ‘em. Broke his nose ‘fore they broke us up. I was small. When I got goin’ nothin’d stop me. I got angry easy. M’ma figured I should get a way to … direct that anger

“Won’um high-school.” Alex took the trophy. “Meant to get rid of ‘em but never could.”

“I wasn’t into sports.” Harris patted his belly. “This is enough weight for me to lift.”

Harris looked at the framed photos of Alex along the wall  by the door.

Can’t wait to read the whole thing? order the PDF for $5.00 – paypal.me/TOpoet – say you want Kiss

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The Mummy

Taking an October break from 227 Rules to share some very recent ‘scary’ pieces. How recent? This one was started October 19 at Glad Day before I watched The Mummy 1959, worked on the next day after I watched The Mummy. In the movie he sinks into a bottomless bog.

Kharis 

is this the last wrap

or the first

the first wrap was a tissue

of lies

‘oh i’m fine’

I used that wrap

over & over

until the tissue

was a layer

layer after layer of

‘oh i’m fine’

‘i don’t mind’

‘how can i make you happy’

walking away

rather than add another layer

hoping nothing had caught

no thread was snagged

on a expectation

an exception

on resurrecting love

 

I was protected

entombed by safety

by the fact

that all anyone wanted to hear

was ‘oh i’m fine’

‘this bandage solution will do’

‘you deserve to be fixed first’

 

bound tight

peering at life though the slits

surrendering to the weight of history

pushed along by an unquestioned past

by ritual expectations

controlled by the clasp of gauze

layer upon layer after layer

some turned to dust

some turned to scar

some turned to face the sun

reaching for release

 

decayed tissue

dust motes settling in the moonlight

‘how can i make you happy?’

‘how can i unravell the book of life’

can i survive

without another layer

of this tissue

this scar tissue of lies


‘oh i’m fine’

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Haunted Hotel

Is my hotel room haunted? A little after I had fallen asleep my first night here I heard movement in the room. At first I thought was the sheets, or someone in the hall but as I woke it was clearly someone walking around my room! I remained still in the bed things, it’s about time I met a ghost. It was quiet for a moment then started again – footsteps around the bed. I sat & squinted but saw nothing 😦 I turned on the light & I was the only one visible in the room. I laid back and it started again. I realized then it was the room above me – I’m on the 7th floor & yes there an 8th floor.

I fell asleep quickly after that and slept pretty soundly. I’m not used to sleeping in such a dark room – only light being the little green specs of various electronics. I always cover the numbers on the clock radio – too bright. If I could black out the light from the hall around the door it would be even darker.

After hitting a meeting at the Dupont Circle Club my Thursday goal was Dumbarton – I did find it but failed to find the cemetery. The museum was boring. The Gardens weren’t open until 2. Such is life. I hiked around Dumbarton park, took lots of pics. Didn’t see any signs directing to cemetery. Did see a deer though. No ghosts.

Got a bit lost getting back to the hotel – which allows me to explore other parts of the city. My may indicated that Q street would lead me to where I wanted to be. I grabbed a bagel to give me sustenance. It was good but the clerk would have been better 🙂 Got stopped a few times because of my Canada luggage tag. So I wonder if I should remove it for now?

Got back to hotel a little after 1 – walking since 9 – so I needed to get my shoes off to rest, meditated. showered & shaved my head. Some text chat with an interested fella I’ve been emailing with for a couple of months. I have low expectations so I was a bit surprised & then quite pleased when he showed up. We’ll leave it at – let’s just say I am learning the lay of the land first hand 🙂 He had to be up for work at 4 a.m. !! Which gave me time to finally hit the Triangle Club – the lgbtq Alano Club – which doesn’t open until 6. I took in the ‘Out Side The Lines’ meeting in which they look at literature that relates to recovery but isn’t necessarily AA published. It was interesting & I wasn’t at all stressed by their use of outside literature.

Another full day in which I was much too busy to real eat more than my healthy breakfast, a bagel & a pizza slice. Maybe I’ll lose enough weight to come back to TO as a ghost of my former self 🙂 The real fun starts tomorrow night so I’ll try to file up with a real meal before the Fire ignites.

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Past Washington posts http://wp.me/P1RtxU-1e3

Jet Bag Lag

As is often the case getting to the airport takes longer than the flight – sometimes just getting to plane takes longer than the flight. Traffic slowed the drive to airport so I had just an hour to get from the car to the departure gate. Finding the right Air Canada aisle was the first hurdle, checking my luggage, getting though US border guards – no problem there – but – somehow I mis-tagged my suitcase 😦 10 minute delay to sort that out. Would it arrive in DC when I did? 

Then finding a washroom, the right boarding gate, getting seat assigned – well it all worked thanks to some deep breathing & the serenity prayer. The express flight was packed. My Kindle book was diverting enough. The flight was trouble free &, because of the delay with the suitcase it was one of the first to hit the baggage carousel.

Caught a cab into the city – I used to take SuperShuttle but found out cab costs the & it’s door to door, not door to this hotel, that hotel & finally your hotel. Yes, I know I could do public transit but even my emotional baggage is too much for that 🙂

Room not ready at hotel so did some walking around – *bucks for a bit of energy & to sit to catch my breath. Long walk in which I got lost – a great way to see new parts of the city – I knew if I kept in the right general direction I’d get back to the hotel. Room ready. Unpacked. relaxed on bed a bit, changed my shoes & out again. Took in meeting at DuPont Circle club then made my way to Mulebone on 14th street. Didn’t get lost this time.

Great meal at Mulebone – ate too much which is a good thing to do for a body that’s been stressed by travel. Hit a Safeways on the way back to the hotel for my morning foods & late night snacks. Final unpacking & seeing what I forgot this year! Checked my email & also what hot guys might want a private lesson in spoken word 🙂 I’ll sleep well tonight with dreams of hot Safeway clerks dancing in my head.

Past Washington posts http://wp.me/P1RtxU-1e3

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Baycrest Brain Rental

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve participated an interesting brain/auditory/memory study at Baycrest, Rotman Research Institute. The official, & very catchy name of the project is: “Individual differences in working memory processing in young and older adults indicated by neuromagnetic oscillations” It was spread over three sessions and proved to be one of the more intriguing studies I’ve done.

It was one that called on more of my brain. Usually the ‘memory’ studies I do involve remembering lists of words, numbers, replicating images. This is one of few that also involved hearing. One portion involved recording my brain signals with a magnetoencephalograph (MEG) while I was doing the task. While doing the task I had ear buds that were playing a variety of tones, pitches & different loudness levels.

The other portion involved hearing tests and testing understanding of speech in noise. I was to repeat a phrase (a different one each time) said against background of people talking. Sometime I get to practice at poetry readings where people not interested in the performance see fit to talk as loud as they can to drown out the performer (this happens more often than you’d expect.)

Doing this studies is a way for me give something back via research. Even when I was doing the pharmaceutical research I was aware that my tiny participation could save lives. I also felt it was important that, even though this information isn’t germane to the study, there be gay males included in the pool. And sometimes the money was decent. I’ve had more MRI’s cat scans, eegs, & MEGs than the average person too.

The most challenging part of the study was getting to Baycrest in the morning 🙂 I general transit to Lawrence Station & walk the rest of the way. I know where the Starbucks are. For this study I opted to go one stop further to York Mills & walk from there along Wilson. Turns out this route is faster. I like the opportunity to see other parts of the city & sample Starbucks. Plus I’m always eager for photo ops. If you’re interesting be a part of such research gave Baycrest a call. http://www.baycrest.org/participate/participate-in-research/

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The Adventures of Danger Girl

Unlike most of the people, in the Toronto, spoken word scene, I don’t love poetry. I especially, don’t love poetry written post 70’s, with the very rare exception of maybe a handful of poets. Duncan Armstrong aka TOpoet is one of them.

It doesn’t take long, maybe just a line or two to realize that this is someone who really invests in everything he experiences. Whether he is writing about the roles we are cast in by others, ex lovers, the state/lack of civilization, or a father wearing shoes that once belonged to his dead son, like he does in “Breaking In Grief” from his new chapbook, “After The Falling”, you are not just reading a series of beautifully strung words, you are feeling what it is like to be there, and remembering the feel of shoes that didn’t belong on your own feet.

He is also incredibly funny. It’s…

View original post 190 more words

Colloquium 2017

This year’s SpecFic spread its tentacles in a new location – 918 Bathurst Street. As long as it is within walking distance of both a subway station & a Starbucks I’m happy.

In her opening remarks for this years SpecFic Sandra Kasturi mentioned that the one complaint the consistently she gets is that there are too many ideas to deal with let alone process. Truer words are rarely spoken as the day’s presenters flooded 918 Bathurst with endless visions of the future & ideas about the present.

First presenter was Julie Czerneda: “It’s a Wrap, Folks” a talk about the writing process itself. How to end a story. She talked about some the traps: i.e. the wrap-up-every-thread ending. Some things can force an ending like word count, submission deadlines. A resolution is not necessarily the ending. Ending shouldn’t be a new plot point unless it is leading to a sequel. If you are having ending issue – ramp up the tension to force one.

She was followed by Robert Boyczuk: “Why You (Still) Can’t Teach Writing” a talk on the usefulness or uselessness of creative writing courses & workshops. One can learn structure & how to have a sharper critical eye but not how to be more creative. He feels sometimes writers spend more time in, looking for, or talking about workshops than they spend writing. My personal experience is often writers judge work by who you’ve studied with than the actual quality of the writing itself. The presentation turned into a discussion about editors & copy writers (maybe something for next year).

The morning sessions wrapped with Jason Taniguchi: “Long Ago and Far, Far Away: Falling Hard for Fictional Worlds” a talk about the lure of alien worlds. This was a great talk about what it takes to do successful world building – something that all writers need to know not just specfic writers. His list of elements included things like ‘it is spilling over with unique specific details’ ‘it has a sense of its own history.’ The importance of representation in world building is becoming more important – what races, genders are in your world? He felt things like Harry Potter or Hunger Games were markedly white & heterosexual.

Unfortunately the day was too damp cold & gloomy for patio lunching. Was glad to get some fresh air with a quick walk to the nearest Starbucks to reap the rewards of my bonus stars – stars it seems one earns merely by walking past a Starbucks – by the time I got back my microwaved sandwich was cool enough to eat.

After the lunch break Sandra read Madeline Ashby: “Abandon All Hope, Eh?: Lessons Learned from the Company Town Tour” – it raised questions such as ‘how can you impose borders on stolen land? utopian for who? the world you are happiest in may ‘not be the best possible world’ What is the future? M feels that to transform Canada we need to move away from resource based economy. We have a skewed sense of what progress really means – is it faster internet connection or being able to live without the internet? Madeline fell ill & couldn’t even Skype – now that’s ill.

This was followed by Vicki Clough: “Alternate Realities in Art” a look at how fine arts are creating a space for epic story telling. I say fine arts – i.e. painting, sculpture as opposed to illustrated novels. She used the work of Kent Monkman & Saya Woolfalk to explore how this is done. Kent reinterprets classic paintings by interjecting his alter ego Miss Chief Eagle Testickle into them; Saya tells the story of a species that switches between animal & plant. Kent’s inventiveness made me wonder if writers might be able to do the same thing – could I rewrite say David Copperfield & find a way to insert my p.o.v to add a layer of observational commentary: it was the best of TOpoet.ca and the worse of TOpoet.ca?
17554424_10210246166523198_864376003505417264_n

The day wrapped with keynote speaker Cory Doctorow “I Can’t Let You Do That Dave” a, for me, overly tech talk about the dangers of DRM coding that allows makers to control how their devices get used but which also comprises personal privacy & safety. Devices can be hijacked to attack their owners – car computers, thanks to DRM (I think) are vulnerable to 3rd party steering. He spoke directly & passionately about our right to control our data. Check out OpenMedia.ca for how to get involved in protecting our rights.

By the end of the day I was exhausted from sitting, listening & at times, even thinking. 918 was a good venue for the colloquium even though it didn’t appear to be at all accessible. Didn’t spot a wheelchair ramp, washrooms were down flights of stairs. Looking forward next years.

ps: in my loot bag: Playground of Lost Toys: ed Anderson/Pflug; Year’s Best Weird Fiction: ed Barron/Kelly; Buffalo Soldier: Broaddus; The Society of Experience: Cahill; Winter Tide: Emrys; Quaternity: Hoover; Proof of Concept: Jones; Those Who Make Us: ed Morris/Trembly; Dead Americans: Peek; Broken Baloons: Prussky; Lifeblood: Showalter; Dead Girls Don’t: Story; Blood & Water: Trenholm 🙂

Past Colloquium posts:

2014: Colloquium in the Round http://wp.me/p1RtxU-EW

2015: Up SpecFic Alleys: http://wp.me/p1RtxU-173

2016: Ghost in the Twitter Feed http://wp.me/p1RtxU-1F6

rough draft sample

Spoilers

boy gets girl

dog lives

monster vanquished

boy buys right girl

man repents

eviler spirits arise

escape succeeds

money isn’t enough

love conquers all

she feels complete in marriage

success isn’t everything

family is reunited

all is forgiven

things are never the same again

she knows better

he finds a purpose in self sacrifice

boy gets boy

dog learns a lesson

man rescued from loneliness by child

greed is punished

being pretty isn’t fulfilling

he didn’t really want her

the lame horse wins a race

he dies saving others

the truth remains hidden

it was all a dream

the boy was once a girl

there is no escaping

they were ghosts

drugs were a bad choice

bad guy repents

she was a princess all along

the villain was his father

the castle blows up

the space ship blows up

the race is won

marriage means more than career

he is a genius

the plants were evil

Satan is foiled

he walks again

she forgives her rapist

he sees the errors of his ways

his heart is ten times bigger

everyone is dead

Chapbooks available: http://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

meandchap

kiss314257567_1162384753819933_3271661288579707843_oon going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes

April season 3 FINALS – Friday April 15th Buddies in Bad Times – early show – 7pm start – Featuring Queen Sheba. Slam winner gets trip to Capturing Fire & maybe coffee with me in DC.games

http://www.queerslam.com/season-3-dates.html

June 9-10-11: attending: Capturing Fire 2017 – flight & hotel booked already

https://capfireslam.org

check out these poets from  Capturing Fire 2015 & 2016

August 31-Sept.3 – I have my ticket already

fec17-header

https://www.facebook.com/events/526940540845331/

November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo

nanowrimo_2016_webbadge_winner

http://nanowrimo.org/

money

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet