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
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.
Stating the obvious with clichés 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!