Isabel just wrote, No blog for a few days, are you all right? Not much to say, I wrote back. But that's never stopped me before.
Surreal days, we Canadians living our tranquil lives while on the other side of the world, our kin are being blasted to pieces. Of course, it has always been so, and it's right we're accused of a kind of disaster racism - were we as concerned about the decimation of Syrians, or are we now about Ethiopians? No. But then, we're living this war in vivid, desperate detail, in real time. I never quite understood Syria, why the madman was attacking his own people (with the help, incidentally, of Putin), and don't understand the various conflicts elsewhere in the world, despite reading about them in the paper. But the sickening, criminal injustice of the situation in Ukraine could not be more clear and understandable.
On Friday Bill Maher had on a scientist whose organization monitors and protests nuclear weapons. The very idea of their use was once unthinkable and now is not, because of the Russian madman. No, the several madmen. I think back once again to the election of Obama, when we glowed with the joyful thought that so many of the world's problems were or would soon be fixed. Not. Not not not not not. We are, as has been opined, fucked. Thank God, at least there's a grownup in the White House.
Meanwhile, our city struggles into spring, with several heavenly days punctuated with cold and rain. Walking with Monique today, we both got overheated. I opened all the windows in my office, what heaven. But when I came up here just now, the room was freezing. Close windows immediately.
I spent the day crafting a query letter to go out with the essay book, a job in itself. How to sell yourself without sounding vain or pompous? Oh my, fabulous, I've got to read this! you want them to exclaim, the faceless gate keepers. Submitting is a long tedious job, one I hate, but there's no point being impatient or resentful, it's an unavoidable part of the job - one I wouldn't have to do if I had an agent, but then getting an agent is another job in itself. You'd think writing the books would be enough of a job, but no, that's just the beginning. Nothing for it but to submit.
On the plus side, one of my beta readers, dear friend and member of my home class, Curtis, has read some of the essays. He wrote, I’m deeply immersed in your book and enjoying it tremendously. First, you emerge from the pages as a highly engaging, intelligent and “relatable" woman, very likeable. The second aspect of the work is the humour. I’m sitting in front of my computer laughing out loud, causing David to look at me with bemusement. “What’s so funny?” What’s funny is your wit. I’m loving it.
Thank you, Curtis! Let's hope that feeling lasts.
Last night's pleasure, the return of Ask the Midwife; I wondered if they'd be able to keep the characters and the fraught situations fresh after so many seasons, but it was a good start. They're all a bit too adorable, not a mean bone in any body, but still, I love them all. Any show that features the joys of newborn babies can't go wrong. And then Sanditon which is totally silly but lovely to look at, so why not? Tonight, the superb My Brilliant Friend from Ferrante's novels, the riveting season two.
No pictures today. Well, I do have a few more lovely ones of Paul McCartney hugging children so if you ask nicely I could post those. But I think, for today, just the sign-off of CBC's The World at Six: Be good to one another.
No, can't resist: grandfather and grandson. Peace.
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