Random ABC

Random Mainstage

you can't escape the crying

I'm afraid to report this, but I fear I've gone and made the ultimate spy mistake.
A mistake so sever, it will force me into early retirement.

I've become emotionally invested in my mission.
I've failed to remain an absent presence, a literary fly on the wall.

spy fail #5: having feelings
##beingaspyisimpossible

Saturday night at mainstage I learned important lessons in dying. I ask you, how does one stay distant from that? I tried my hardest to keep my gaze upon the suspicious crowd, but to no avail. I was thoroughly caught up in the lessons of Paul Quarrington's life and death.

To add to it, Charlene made sure to thank all of the volunteers who help make the festival possible by doing things such as handing out surveys, greeting people, serving wine and much more.
I thought my suspicions were confirmed, that my mission was still on track. She hadn't mentioned the bloggers. Charlene did see us as a lower class of volunteers, and there was reason to remain on the lookout for more attempts to bring us dowm.
We were unmentionable, even in her heartfelt thank yous.
I mean, we didn't even get magnetic badges this year.

And then she gave us our very own thank you.

Apparently her brother had never been to a Thin Air event until this year.
And the reason he came?
He read the blog. It inspired him to check out an event or two.

With this uncomfortably warm and melancholic feeling in my heart as I left Saturday night, I knew my mission was doomed.

And if that wasn't enough, in pondering how I might report to you one last time, I came across Jay's final post. Ever.

I swear it didn't even make me cry. ##imstillabigsensitiveliar

And he spoke the truth of this mission, as I believe we all have.
Thin Air teaches us about ourselves.
My first conclusion, so many nights ago, was correct.
We are drawn to this celebration of writing and self expression, not because we are all a bunch of book snobs dressed in tweed with our red wine accessories, but because we are people who seek. Seek out truth and understanding and compassion and laughter. We seek out language to engage and connect with.

Being a spy isn't the only lonely job in the world.
Being a person is a pretty damn lonely job too. Especially if you are a writer.
This is why we have Thin Air.

We find people like us, and a space is created, if only for 1 week each year, where we are held up.
And so together we explore weddings and cowboys. Hunting and kugle. Ectoplasm, fathers and the redemptive qualities of coffee.
It is the magic of people working through their lives, with words.

As we learned in the documentary on Paul Quarrington, the boogie man isn't death, the boogie man is not being creative on a daily basis. And when creativity can be brought together and shared, something happens that not even the best spy can name.
##iclearlyhandnochance

And so, as I hang up my stick on moustache on last time, I say to you all
Thank You. For all that you give of yourselves through writing, reading, talking and being.

None of us are the same because of it.
##somuchfornotgettingsappy

Over and Out

* * *
Courtney Slobogian was born in Winnipeg and likes it that way. She is a writer/understated activist/ irreverent feminist.

Some of her work can be tracked down in quiet corners of the internet.

She co-hosts a radio show on CKUW called Tiger Lilies are Poisonous, dislikes cotton socks and is currently working on developing her spy skills.

Outro

Okay I'll admit it. I skipped a lot of the festival this year. There were events I had planned to go to, like the Family Business mainstage and Amy Jo Ehman's Big Ideas reading to name only two. But sometimes, life gets in the way, or you just get tired.

But I did catch a few of the nooners, an afternoon bookchat, a big ideas session, but only one-and-a-half mainstages. All of these events I enjoyed, some just more than others.

The Tuesday's mainstage (which I had to leave halfway through) was well worth going to for Ken Finkleman's performance alone. A slightly self-deprecating, slightly off-colour reading from and critique of his first novel, Noah's Turn, which is "minor stuff," he said casually as he held up the book and shrugged. At least compared to great poetry. Poetry is the great art.

Here is a photo from that night of hunter-turned-conservationist David Carpenter, author/photographer AJ Somerset, and former Winnipegger Ken Finkleman perusing his book with sunglasses on. He took the glasses off when he took to the podium because, he said, "the speaker's gotta see the fuckin' audience."

I also quite enjoyed David Carpenter's reading that night, and then again the next day at the Big Ideas series. David's reading from his latest work of fiction in addition to his non-fiction went on a little too long and took away from the discussion that was supposed to happen. And that's what the Big Ideas are supposed to be about. Still, the reading was good, and David's a nice man.

Here's a picture of him:

And then there were the little things. Beers with Toronto poet Michael Lista and Hot Air blogger-in-chief Ariel, and the brief time spent in the hospitality suite getting a glimpse of what it's like to be one of the authors at a festival like Thin Air. It's things like these that are worth the most.

And there's always the wine and there's always the cheese.

Served up by fine folks like these ones:

I don't know quite what else to say. It was a different festival experience than last year. I think that has to do in part with not being at the opening on Sunday night. Because of that it was like the festival didn't start. There were just all of a sudden all these things to go to. I should have planned better.

But let's end this thing on a good note. The festival was good, and I enjoyed it. There's no poison, psychotropic drugs, or brainwashing. It's just good people having a good time talking about good books. And there isn't any harm in that. See you next year?

****

Brandon James Bertram is a perpetual student. When he's not at the university you might find him going casually about his business in his West Broadway apartment or spending his leftover student loans on beer at Cousins. He sometimes reviews music for the Uniter and his poetry has been published in Rhubarb magazine. He might graduate with a bachelor's degree next year.

The End

I don’t really know what to write. Since this is my last Hot Air post ever, I want to write all sorts of things about my feelings, but that’s not really what I do. When I try, I usually come across sounding like a 12 year old girl writing in her diary. Not that that’s an inherently bad thing, but I am a 35 year old man and that's not really the image I’m shooting for. So that leaves me here, unable to write this post, for fear of sounding like a sissy.

Ah well, I can’t really have all that much in the way of credibility by now anyway, so here goes nothing;

I like the Winnipeg Writer’s Festival. Every year I learn something important about myself when I attend festival events. I hear ideas and poems and jokes and writers. Sometimes it triggers an epiphany, other times, a roll of my eyes, but without fail, it teaches me something about me that I need to know. If I hear something that rocks my world, I’m usually hearing for the first time a feeling I’ve had, but could not put into words. When I want to heckle, it’s usually a discovery of something I disagree with. Neither reaction is right, they’re just the amazing little gifts of self knowledge this festival gives me every year I attend. I’ll really miss my free pass.

I like the Winnipeg Writer’s Festival Organizers. Without Charlene, Perry and the rest of the executive types, we’d all be just a bunch of people standing around wearing magnetic badges. They tell us what to do and keep in mind the big picture. They make sure every detail is looked after to insure this festival performs like a well oiled machine year after year. No Thin Air team, no Thin Air. Thank you.

I like Ariel Gordon. She keeps bringing me back and has no problem with me making a fool of myself. Thank you Ariel, for not only being a friend and blog mentor, but for also not getting mad at me for my limited production this year. Twins are harder than I thought. Thanks for understanding and don’t worry, we’ll still see each other lots at Aqua Books. I know you can’t wait.

I like the rest of the Hot Air team and will miss seeing them. I got to know you guys better this year and it was nice. Even though I’m not much for going out in crowded public places, knowing that I’d see one of you all there made it a lot well worth the stress. It almost makes me think I should get out more. Thanks guys.

Well, I don’t really know what else to write. This took me 4 hours. It was hard, but as they say, goodbyes always are. Thanks for reading. Take care.

J

PS Don’t fill out the surveys, that’s where they put the poison.

* * *
Jason Diaz is a Winnipeg-based writer, bookstore employee and handyman (the bookstore business isn't as stable as you'd think). His poetry and prose has been published in dark leisure magazine. He has no idea why he keeps working for these meanies and volunteers coaching basketball to all the artsy kids in Wolseley so they never have to sit on the bench. He has a wife and many children.

Volunteer party!

At Aqua Books, everyone with their mouths full of tiny perfect cupcakes...

Hands on: Charlene Diehl

Charlene has been everywhere this week. All over HOT AIR. All over THIN AIR. So it's easy to forget that she's a writer too, that October 7 is as significant, event-wise, as September 19-26.

Because October 7 is when Charlene has the launch for her new memoir, the first book she's published since joining Winnipeg's lit community.

And it's just a coincidence that her sweater matches the cover of her book. Really.

* * *

Out of Grief, Singing is an achingly beautiful account of how a woman comes to terms with the loss of her newborn. After a bewildering series of rapid diagnoses and emergency interventions, Charlene’s daughter Chloe is born. But her too-brief life is spent in the neonatal intensive care unit, and her mother, leveled by an epidural anaesthetic procedure gone wrong, can barely make it to her daughter’s side. In the months following Chloe’s death, more medical crises further complicate matters, making it nearly impossible to even begin the grieving process, let alone return to any semblance of a normal life. But return she does, and with a poet’s ear for language, Charlene Diehl

Charlene Diehl is a writer, educator, critic, teacher and the director of THIN AIR, Winnipeg’s annual literary splash. She has published essays, poetry, non-fiction, reviews, and interviews in journals across Canada, and has to her credit a scholarly book on Fred Wah as well as a collection of poetry, lamentations, and two chapbooks, mm and The Lover’s Handbook. Excerpts from Out of Grief Singing, which appeared in Prairie Fire, won a western Canadian Magazine Gold Award. She was the featured poet in the fall 2007 issue of CV2. When she’s not chasing literary language (or her two speed pre-teens), she edits dig! Magazine, Winnipeg’s little-jazz-engine-that-could.

A Pint of Bitter Murder: GB

My thanks to Mike Deal, who attended the event and sat in the front row and took these pictures. Well, except for the one of the books, which were on Aqua's counter.

A Pint of Bitter Murder: Giles Blunt

Everything except Giles Blunt in and around Aqua Books.

Hands on: Nora Gould

It's sort of a tradition for me to shoot the hands of the Bliss Carman winner. Apparently, it's also a tradition for me to shoot a blurry picture of the Bliss Carman winner. Sigh...it didn't help that Nora was standing in the doorway of the hospitality suite, on her way out, and kept on saying in her oh-so-wry way, "Are you done yet? Are you done?"

But the moment I want to leave you with is this: in the green room before the Poetry Bash, Nora re-braided her long hair. And so I idly watched her hands comb through all that hair, as she un-made and then re-made a knot of her hair.

* * *

Nora Gould has studied at Sage Hill, St Peter’s, Banff Wired Writing and Piper’s Frith in Newfoundland, and her poetry has appeared in echolocation, The Society, cv2, and The Prairie Journal. She is the 2010 recipient of the Bliss Carman Poetry Award, one of the prizes supported by the annual Prairie Fire Press-McNally Robinson Booksellers Writing Contests. Her winning poem, “Some nights he breathed up all the air,” appears in the summer issue of Prairie Fire, and she will be presented with a replica of Bliss Carman’s ring at the Poetry Bash! Gould writes from a ranch near Consort, Alberta, and volunteers in wildlife rehabilitation with Medicine River.

Afternoon Book Chat: kevin eckhoff mcpherson & Ariel Gordon

A bird's eye view of the last ABC.

The Revolution is Now

I definitely think Courtney the Spy is on to something. Somebody IS out to get us. But it's not who we think. So Agent C., count me in. We gotta be one step ahead of them. I'll be your sidekick in the land of spies, big ideas, truth and seeking. You know what's what; I had suspected this previously and only added in the DOUBLE AGENT comment to gauge your reaction to be sure of your allegiances. But at the hospitality suite late into the night last night after The Play's the Thing, I knew you could be trusted. We sized them all up, the drunken playwrights, poets, deemed them worthy. Got right to the heart of the matter. They're in on it too and can be trusted. The Revolution is happening and it's right in front of us at the Festival. So yes, I'll be the Robin to your Bat-Man. Moustache or otherwise. We gotta keep this festival safe from infiltrators. It's never been more important.

This was the scene as I left work yesterday, wanting to get back to another BIG IDEAS at Millennium. But I never got there. The police had Main Street all blocked off.

The authorities are getting restless. They know something is afoot. They're trying to stop us.



As I began snapping a few photos, you know, in case, who do I see stroll by? If you can believe it, one of the Thin Air Attendees I had met at the BIG IDEAS session w/ David Carpenter the previous day. I was shocked. What a coincidence. But I've learned at the festival this year there is no such thing as a coincidence. The astute and helpful festival-goer shall remain unnamed to protect his/her identity. But suffice it to say s/he reminded me of Freedom of Expression and to Be Ready. Knowing glances were exchanged.

There are more of us out there than what we might think. And we're ready. For the Revolution.

And I think Charlene knows much more than what she's saying. And is indeed the one behind it all anyway. The Festival is the front, so to speak, albeit, it's doing the work too, the work to get us to revolution.

Jay Diaz, fear not. She's just testing you with her jabs, her bobs and weaves. To make sure you're strong enough. Your drunken monkey kung fu is good, my friend. You're ready.

It's nearly time, people. You can smell it in the September air, feel it in the audience as they take in the words, the wine, creative flow. You can see it in festival-goers' eyes when you see them in the city, on the street. Call on Akna, Charlene. Folks, call on your goddesses or knomes, your own inner artist. Cover yourself in mud. Embrace the proud beaver, the moon-phases of our Canadian landscape.

It's the dawning of a new age (isn't that what they were talking about in the 60s, the coming of the Age of Aquarius?). The "pseudo fascist Canadian government" is going down.

Thank you, Greg MacArthur, and your rousing call to action from Main Stage last night in your daper (orange-plaid!) ensemble from Ragpickers. You're right, the world is waking up.

And thank you for asking, kevin mcpherson eckhoff, denim jacket and all, poetry is life. And you're doing it now. Be the Che to Charlene's Fidel. Bring the Great Exchange of Ideas all the way West when you go home to the Okanagan. Then we have the whole country covered (well, except Vancouver and Victoria, but we'll deal with them later.)

A new world, a new beginning. And Charlene, her Thin Air Minions, and all Festival-goers alike are leading the charge.

To Art. And Love. Poetry. Plays. To Wine and Cheese. Blogger Hugs. Jumping in all the way, not looking back, like only melancholy writers can. And pouringdownrain that lets you see right through to your own heart.

We can't be stopped. The Revolution is now. And Thin Air is the breeding ground for revolutionaries.

See you in the streets, in the woods, in the deep dark night or blinding sun, all over the place, everywhere.

**

Stacy drove to Winnipeg in two days and five hours from Clydesdale, Nova Scotia. She only planned to stay for a year, but it has been four already, because this city keeps you, holds you. Though she works at a corporate publishing company, she has learned about writing, art, urban living, praying mantis kung fu, cycling, goddesses, and the middle while here. She hopes to figure something out about preserving, wool, gentleness, Mandarin, and movement. And, always, poetry. For the duration. Email Stacy at anastasie.doiron@gmail.com.

Hands on: Amy Jo Ehman

Amy Jo is a locavore. Which puts her in the same camp as slow food enthusiasts. But Amy isn't slow. During her lecture, she bumped the mic twice. And while she was graciously chatting with the people wanting her to sign their books, her hands were constantly in motion. I couldn't get a sharp image and I was pestering her and them every instant I stood there, taking pictures...so you get a diptych.

Line of Inquiry: George Murray

George Murray has published poems and fiction in journals and anthologies in Canada, the United States, Australia, and Europe.

His work has been recognized with the PIP Gertrude Stein Award in Innovative Poetry, and has been shortlisted for other awards, including the EJ Pratt Poetry Prize, the Atlantic Poetry Prize and the CAA Poetry Prize.

His five books of poetry include The Hunter, The Rush to Here, and a new collection, Glimpse: Selected Aphorisms (ECW).

He frequently reviews books for The Globe and Mail, and is the editor of the popular literary website bookninja.com.

Murray lives in St John’s, Newfoundland.

1) As a writer (i.e. someone whose artistic practice is predicated on time spent alone) how do you approach performance? What do you get out of it?

I am a somewhat reluctant performer, in that I don't make a lot of big gestures or inflect my voice in that "poet" way some people like to. I just simply read the work at hand, though I am pretty good at joking with the audience between pieces. I like the immediate feedback of the audience energy, but I also like the nerves of getting there. Backstage I'm a wreck, but once on stage, I'm usually fairly okay.

2) What do you want people to know about Glimpse: Selected Aphorisms?

It's fun and has depth and is accessible and interesting to other poets and critics, but also to the general public. Besides the breadth of its content, this range of accessibility is probably the reason I'm most proud of it. I like it when people who got dragged out to a poetry reading (boyfriends, wives, friends of poetry lovers, etc.) come up to me all excited after and say, "Hey, I don't normally read poetry, but I'll read THAT." I hope Glimpse is a good gateway book for people you feel might otherwise be too reluctant (or intimidated) to try reading contemporary poetry.

3) Will this your first time in Winnipeg? What have you heard?

I've been to Winnipeg several times before, but mostly on business. I've heard great things about the arts and culture community there, and I know the literary community is first rate. I've published a few times in Prairie Fire and CV2, so I hope I have a foot in the door with the locals and see some friends.

4) What are you reading right now? What are you writing right now?

I'm reading several novels and a raft of poetry books. Notably: Annabel by Kathleen Winter and Far to Go by Alison Pick, as well as new poetry by Robin Robertson, Seamus Heaney, and Geoffrey Hill.

5) What was your process for writing/editing the aphorisms that make up Glimpse? Did it differ markedly from your process when writing long poems?

With Glimpse, I culled most of the aphorisms whole from old journals. I hadn't even realized I was writing them at first. Once I harvested a critical mass of them (about 1000), I went about sorting and discarding the bad or repetitive ones, and then edited the good ones for craft and brevity. Since then, now I've realized they are part of my writing process, I am much better able to recognize them as they form. So now, when I write an aphorism, it's not by pleasant accident, but generally on purpose.

* * *
George Murray will be appearing at THIN AIR, Winnipeg International Writers Festival:

September 23 - Campus Reading at RRC.
September 24 - Panel, with Sina Queyras.
September 24 - Mainstage, with Ariel Gordon, Nora Gould, Ignatius T Mabasa, kevin mcpherson eckhoff, Sina Queyras.

* * *
Ariel Gordon has two chapbooks to her credit, The navel gaze (Palimpsest Press) and Guidelines: Malaysia & Indonesia, 1999 (Rubicon Press), and this spring, Palimpsest published her first full-length poetry collection, Hump. She recently won the John Hirsch Award for Most Promising Manitoba Writer at the Manitoba Book Awards. When not being bookish, Ariel likes tromping through the woods and taking macro photographs of mushrooms.

We were good as married in my mind

there was definitely something queer in the air last night.
Besides the obvious i mean.

I've been pondering how to convey to you the debauchery of the evening past, without of course, giving too much away.

I would have to say it started when Charlene walked on stage wearing a pants suit. Immediately I knew something was off.

Jay, Stacy, Chandra and I serendipitously met up in the lobby and decidedly stuck together for the remainder of the evening. I knew this would compromise my stealthiness slightly, but what with the electricity in the air, I figured tonight I may need to throw caution to the wind, and see if that would lead to further developments in my case. Sometimes, you just have to lose some to win some.
##thatisnottheexpression

It became painfully obvious that the four of us were having the most fun. It wasn't the wine. What was it??

I pointed out to Stacy the error of Charlene's ways, as she she informed the crowd that if they wanted more information on the festival to check out the information table in the lobby.
"Wrong!" I yelled (to Stacy only. And perhaps the few audience members in close proximity)
"You mean check out the blog!" (but still, I yelled it)


Spy fail #4: Do I even need to tell you. Really. I yelled about the freaking blog for crying out loud.

She did proceed to mention the blog, as she informed the crowd we were "creeping around the events" (direct quote)
My stomach sank. My suspicions were confirmed. Charlene was onto me.
Worse yet, she suspected us all. Had I compromised the safety for my fellow bloggers, i wondered, as I threw back my red wine.


As for the other indications that there was something afoot, they are almost too many to name. I will provide them in list form:
A guitar named Verna, a post modern mash up, Pink Triangle by Weezer. Vagina jokes with surprisingly heartfelt laughter from unnamed Thin Air staff. Stacy going for a run at intermission. Jay giving blog hugs. Fashion shows, beaver references, WD40, and Charlene calling on the spirit Akna. And actors.

My head was spinning.
This mission had taken a sharp turn.
We were no longer on the straight and narrow, so to speak.

Now, every spy has to have a line they just won't cross
##imnotsurethisistrue
And so, while the events that unfolded in the hospitality suite, post reading, add significantly to my case, I am unable to reveal the details of them at this time.
Just trust me when I tell you, the night was chaos of the best kind.

Conclusions are hard to come by at this point. Perhaps the linear approach of my detective mission has been permanently skewed.
Perhaps there are no conclusions, save one.

Just when you think the queer is missing, coordinated chair shuffles happen like a rehearsed dance performance. An involved discussion of salmon vs magenta unfolds and clarification is provided when someone points out that magenta is "like red, but gay".
And someone somewhere eats a cheese curd in a hotel room filled with joyfully melancholic writers.

over and out

Courtney Slobogian was born in Winnipeg and likes it that way. She is a writer/understated activist/ irreverent feminist.

Some of her work can be tracked down in quiet corners of the internet.

She co-hosts a radio show on CKUW called Tiger Lilies are Poisonous, dislikes cotton socks and is currently working on developing her spy skills.

Hands on: MP part the second

Usually I don't "groom" the hands-on photo set-ups. But Marj's friend wanted to. So I let her.

* * *
Ariel Gordon has two chapbooks to her credit, The navel gaze (Palimpsest Press) and Guidelines: Malaysia & Indonesia, 1999 (Rubicon Press), and this spring, Palimpsest published her first full-length poetry collection, Hump. She recently won the John Hirsch Award for Most Promising Manitoba Writer at the Manitoba Book Awards. When not being bookish, Ariel likes tromping through the woods and taking macro photographs of mushrooms.

Hands on: Marj Poor

Marj Poor, teacher and editor of Prairie BOOKS now. She takes a week off work during THIN AIR. If you go back through the four years of HOT AIR, there are probably several pictures of her, because she's at everything...and because she's at everything, she carries around several book bags. So for this photo, I got her to empty one of her book bags.

* * *
Ariel Gordon has two chapbooks to her credit, The navel gaze (Palimpsest Press) and Guidelines: Malaysia & Indonesia, 1999 (Rubicon Press), and this spring, Palimpsest published her first full-length poetry collection, Hump. She recently won the John Hirsch Award for Most Promising Manitoba Writer at the Manitoba Book Awards. When not being bookish, Ariel likes tromping through the woods and taking macro photographs of mushrooms.

Big Ideas: Eating Local

Amy Jo Ehman's big ideas lecture at the millennium library.

The Nooner: Sandra Birdsell

I missed mainstage last night so I made sure to catch Sandra Birdsell today when she read for the largest nooner crowd I've seen yet.

She read from Waiting for Joe, her new novel that was sparked by an infuriating comment about the right religious beliefs being the key to financial abundance.

Waiting for Joe is about a couple who has gone bust and the spiritual journey that Joe embarks upon alone. (From what I gather, although I haven't read it yet.)

Sandra said the novel took six months to write, but really it took over four years. Writers are a bunch of liars.

*****

Brandon James Bertram is a perpetual student. When he's not at the university you might find him going casually about his business in his West Broadway apartment or spending his leftover student loans on beer at Cousins. He sometimes reviews music for the Uniter and his poetry has been published in Rhubarb magazine. He might graduate with a bachelor's degree next year.

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Tea & sympathy

A Thin Air lunch...