Part-time prevaricator
I went for another long bike ride today, and took a few more photos, several at the Assiniboine and a few at the community garden in the south end.
Interested in prints? Let me know.
I went on a 23-kilometre bike ride on the Monday of the August Long Weekend, before it got too hot outside. I took along my camera, with my 50mm, 24mm, and Lensbaby lenses.
Here are the results.
Strong opinion time: The Wrong Trousers, whose chase scene is presented here, is the best heist movie ever made.
Saturday, I:
Continue reading “Writing Retreat, Day 6”“Can I help you with something?” Headless mannequins wore flimsy cotton dresses in earth tones. Countertop racks displayed neacklaces and bracelets made of beads, pearls, or smooth and polished stones. A sign at the back said RESTROOMS FOR PAYING CUSTOMERS ONLY.
“I need a washroom,” I said.
She motioned at the sign.
“No, I need a washroom.”
She sighed, though I couldn’t tell whether she was exasperated with me or with the situation I was evidently trying to put her in. “Policy,” she said. Then, giving me a good looking-over, she said, much more quietly, “You okay?”
Yes, I wanted to say.
“No.”
From Translations
…as they say.
It seems I’m a bit behind on the ol’ posts. Here’s a quick recap of Wednesday to Friday:
On Tuesday, I:
Here’s a quick sample of the writing so far (still 1st draft):
Continue reading “Writing Retreat 2019, Day 2”Your nose is broken, she’d said. I reached up and touched it, gingerly, expecting pain. Instead it felt cold and numb. Touching it felt like I was touching someone else’s nose. Like it was made of wax.
I felt a thin strip of metal or metal-like plastic that ran from between my eyebrows down the bridge of my nose to its tip. I tried to lift it off, to pry a nail under it, but couldn’t. It was like it was a part of me. Maybe it was a part of me now.
You’ve been concussed. That part I didn’t need to check to believe. I remembered the headache, the nausea that never quite went away and never quite resolved into actual vomiting. When I lay down on the bed, the room seemed to shiver and spin, slowly, an orbit that I didn’t like.
From Translations, 1st draft
I:
So far so good.
Top photo: taken about 11:45 PM or so. 12mm, 44 seconds, f/2.8, ISO 3200 (I think).
Last night I arrived at Minnedosa, to start the 2019 edition of my annual week-long writing retreat.
Goals this year:
I’m also due in Winnipeg for my nephew’s birthday party, which means I’ll be able to pick up the copy of Michael Swanwick’s The Iron Dragon’s Mother that I pre-ordered in (checks notes) (…these notes are illegible) February? maybe. And a friend is camping at Clear Lake starting mid-week, so I’ll probably go bother him for an afternoon or something.
As my darling wife is wont to say, “Write faster, Johanneson.”
Header image: last night, reading Provenance on the deck with a glass of Writer’s Tears.
On the weekend I rode a bit over 20km. I didn’t have my Canon with me, but my phone’s camera is pretty decent. I really liked how the basketball hoop turned out; I have something of a thing for entropy and abandoned spaces, and this shot made my ride for me.
