Thursday, August 11, 2016

It's Dull But It's Life

I walked the seawall for the second time this week. It feels good to get back to one of my favourite traditions. Each time, I have at least one epiphany-like moment — not of insight, but of glory, of union, of being part of the eternal story. I think I feel what you are supposed to feel at communion. The Catholic Church was not my path to spiritual satisfaction; I found it in the natural world.
I think as I walk. I think about what I see, I recall and review recent experiences and conversations, I anticipate my future and, most practically, I have always used my time walking to plan my writing and craft projects.
And speaking of projects…
My untitled collection of conversations progresses slowly—very slowly. But then it’s summer time and so I give in to my passion for walking. Come fall, however, I expect I’ll be more diligent.
My past scripts used chronology as the thread through a true story very heavy on plot. This one is different. Nothing happens. I’m hoping to engage the interest of readers with the ideas tackled and the language in which they are expressed.
I have never liked football; I couldn’t bear to watch a game. And soccer has never engaged me either, but oh my God, the ruby sevens in Rio are arresting. I find it the most elegant of contact field games. You can see everything; the scrum and the line is such a beautiful sight when executed by teams like New Zealand and Fiji. I am totally hooked.
But please: Could we lose golf? And could we talk about the costuming. And honestly, the make up and costumes of the female gymnasts and the beach volleyball players is deeply off-putting when compared to what the men wear in the same sport.
Mark Tewksbury: Shut up and go home; your criticism of Michael Phelps was inappropriate. Go back to the shadows and take the CBC analyst for rowing with you.
Olympic commentary: Stating the obvious with clich├ęs and lots of repeats, repetition, recapitulation, reiteration and recurrence.
I spent yesterday and this morning alone. At around 1:00, I decided to have lunch at a park outlet. By then, I’d been up and “talking to myself” in my thoughts for eight hours, so when I went to order my food and stuttered badly, I was shocked. I forget I have a speech impediment after a couple of days not speaking.
Last night I went to my friend Nicola’s and then to Pastis for dinner. We drank champagne before we went to the restaurant and she served me some of her crab bisque cappuccino. She is a bit of a miracle. She moved here to care for her father and met a man and so it was easy for me to fit into her new life as she built it here on the other side of the continent from her former home in Nova Scotia. We have a priceless level of compatibility; it’s a rare and wonderful to make a new friend in my seventh decade.
And now we have great weather for the next two weeks. Yay!

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