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November 2006

November 28th, 2006
The Gentle Lady, Scorned

Be ready, Christopher. The Crowd will be waiting for you. Like any witch frenzied by a stumping lover, she’ll be angry. She’ll gossip hatefully about your bastard children, impugn your cocksmanship (*), steal your notebook, and cackle bitterly when you slip. If you actually bleed, she’ll chortle mightily, spattering rumours of infidelity: yours, your Christmas child, and mostly, your cuckolding wife, that galumphing whore. One nasty babblemonger maintains that Mingus Tourette and Unkle Pat, among others, hosted her in partisan fashion whilst watching you bravely falter ‘gainst the Hurricane. They spread tales of buttered crackers, hockey pucks and wicked recurve sticks, all under light of welding torch. But. Only rumours. Pay no attention, while the keening grows, for your errant head upon the argent platter. Play on deafly, if you can. She loved you once. But alas, no more.

MT, Esquire

November 22nd, 2006
Winter Letter to Bernard

Dear Bernard,

Hope you are not drinking sand. When the water riots begin, arrive with your gasmask. And a police baton, at the least. Stay close to the buildings when the tear gas starts.

Your theories of Foucault and Derrida are interesting, but you know philosophy can be boiled down to the twin balls dangling between a silverback's twitching thighs. Shaved apes, all of us. Good and evil — priestly constructs.

As for the pity - who doesn't pity the Big Smoke? They deserve our tears. Our empathy. For the twin-tower envy. Oh shadow of the Apple.

At least with the 'Chuk, we've zero pretension of being anything like New York. Hell, we don't even want to be Calgary. We'd hate to be Cowtown. We like the dark Novembers, crusted snow, oiled green in hand, knives on the streets, breath heaving thick in the air under the shadow of big iron.

November 15th, 2006
To the Bone

(EDMONTON) Edmonton writer Thomas Trofimuk is set to launch his new novel, Doubting Yourself to the Bone, in a Whyte Avenue bar this coming Thursday.

Doubting Yourself to the Bone has garnered rave reviews both locally and nationally. It is, according to Trofimuk, a book about the forensics of grief. “It’s an emotional and spiritual CSI. The pathology of a broken relationship, with whisky and Buddhist monks in the mix.”

The launch takes place Thursday, November 16th at The Kazbar Lounge, under Yianni’s Taverna on Whyte Avenue. Fezzes are not mandatory but appreciated

Thursday, November 16th, 2006 7:30 p.m.
Yianni’s Taverna, Kazbar Lounge
10444 - 82 Ave

November 9th, 2006
The Farewell and the Pity (w/ Reverb)

I certainly used to malign Rumsfeld on this website. Sadly, we won't have him to kick around anymore. Makes me think: one certainly shouldn't wish Sudden Retirement Death Syndrome on anyone. So - good luck with your winter years, oh master of the quagmire. I wish you several decades of bitterly watched West Wing reruns. Cold soup in hand, Nixon on the telephone, shame of your children.

In literary news:

Read an article in the Toronto Star bemoaning the lack of novels mythically situated in the Big Smoke. Had to laugh a bit. It's a topic that's been chewed over in E-Ville recently, with the release of Babiak's The Garneau Block. There's not enough books set here, historically. Though a new generation is aiming to turning that around. Now we have Babiak's Block, Minister Faust's Coyote Kings, and of course, Robert Kroetsch's Studhorse Man. So, we're on our way.

Yet, I remember yelling at Thezska over a backroom karaoke bar's pool table that he was a lucky motherfucker to live in a city cloaked in Ondaatje's Skin of a Lion. But it seems that's not enough. Not only do the Eastern bastards face the fear of freezing in the dark, but also doing so in ignominious literary anonymity. The pity.

The pity.

In other, vaguely related multimedia reverb:

Simons wrote an article about the cross-marketing site for Babiak's new serial, The Book of Stanley. The site is called, 'a hip mix of lifestyle and current affairs'. You will want to subscribe to this channel because of its nightly 11pm show. See for yourself. Check the schedule.

November 7th, 2006
elephants on the loose

Apparently, humans are actually turning elephants into psychopaths.

This was in the Journal over the weekend, as well. It's a good read, and hopefully, a timely political metaphor.

November 1st, 2006

So, after the triple capper on the weekend, we're up to 32 murders for the year. Not bad. In striking distance of the record.

Obviously, the reason that we're a little behind is the play-off run. A little rioting, some heartfelt high-fives, and that Christmas feeling in June kept the cannons in the pants. But, that's all done. And the snow's flying. And so's the red ice.

Not a bad theory, actually.

But What Happened Last Month? By God, Find Out Here!