Chapter 17: How can you be sure we are who we say?

Last night I was talking to Linda about, among other things, poetry. I'll explain how I came to be over at Casa Ferguson in a moment, but this is where I'm starting. Linda was in the position of looking over some poetry written by a family member, whom she noted had just self-published her first chapbook. That's the broad outline of the situation anyway.

Getting anything published in any form is a major feat, and should be commended. That said, self-publishing is a curiously different animal from regular publishing, I've found. When Amanda and I went to the Fan Expo, we met up with a friend of hers who runs a tabletop RPG company. He lamented the lack of respect that seemed to follow his self-publishing endeavours (as in, guidebooks and such, I suppose.) Self-publishing requires a certain drive and ambition and belief in the self. Getting published by outside means someone sees something in you - either talent or marketability or whatever. Both are difficult for different reasons.

I mention this not only because the conversation was noteworthy but because the thoughts came back to me later on, the next day... today... when I found out Half-Past Eight PM had not been selected as Vic Drama's Festival show. At first I was understandably bitter - compounded by the fact that I am belatedly trying to read Margaret Laurence's The Diviners (a fool's errand - that book's fuckin' huge) - but I understand. The play is very odd and not to the sensibilities of some audience members or readers, and also I'm not even really a Vic student, if that matters (the selected play was by Vic students.) All in all, it's just another rejection for the wall. I'm kinda taking it in stride. Not in a "Who wants to be in their crummy festival anyhow" kinda way, just a "Well let's see what other opportunities we can find" sort of way. And to that end...

The other day, in Shakespeare, class was preceded by a spiel from a representative from the Hart House Review talking up the next issue (one per year) and how submissions will be closed at the end of December. I took that as a sign that this is the next opportunity in question. So once I have some time when school's out, I'm gonna shine up some pieces real good - I'm thinking, four poems and one short story - and try my luck. If I'm as awesome as everyone seems to make me think I am, at least something should make an impact. And I refuse to believe I'm not.

Anyway, last night. As good a night as I've had in a long while, with or without drinking. It started pensively as I procrastinated, watching Star Wars and Empire on Spike and watching the clock. Because it gets dark so early now I had this feeling of it getting to be very late as it crossed the threshold to 8:00 and Empire came on. I had had advanced word of people being in town, along with all he hang-outage that entailed. But time was slipping away and I had no idea what was what. I fretted and browsed Cracked.com for newer articles or at least ones I had missed.

Finally, around 9:30 or something, Christobel Fergusman came on and let me know. I'd go over there, meet up with RyLai, and we'd head over to Lauren's, who could not leave her place. "What has she, got one of those ankle bracelets?" I asked. Would you be totally surprised?" joked Chris.

Anyway, this led to me pacing around and watching Empire and doing all my assorted stuff before finally heading over. I finally returned Chris' Lost Season 3 DVD and lent him my first two Y: The Last Man trades, which I hope he enjoys. Anyway, this was when Linda and I got into our discussion of poetry.

Eventually, RyLai arrived, and Linda was kind enough to offer us a drive (thanks Linda!) rather than having us march out in the bitter cold. So around 10:30 we showed up at Lauren's, greeted by Odie and Moose, and Lauren and her boyfriend Tyler. Nice guy. We got into a routine of chilling as two people at a time faced off in Guitar Hero while Chris, RyLai and I enjoyed Dr Peppers form Lauren's basement. Eventually, Pat showed up and we all just ditched the guitars and shot the shit until Pat and his girlfriend offered to give the three of us a ride back to Chris' place.

This was around 12:30 as we got back. It was a stroke of good fortune that we didn't have to spend the time or survive the cold of walking either way to Lauren's. With How I Met Your Mother Season 3 on the DVD player, we started up a rare and usually ill-advised bout of 3-man Risk. It actually went well, even considering I had to play the unusual strategy of building out of Australia, AKA the Chris Brown strat. With Chris establishing himself in Europe and Africa and RyLai using the Americas as his base, I never got out of Asia and ended up bottled in a weak defensive position for the whole game. I'd have been well advised to go straight for Kamchatka but RyLai had it pretty well stocked and that didn't come into play until late in the game when I was ousted from Australia. It was a Rock Paper Scissors game where I defended well against Chris, he did well against Ryan, and Ryan did well against me. In the end, Chris came out the victor by knocking me out and getting a set. It all lasted until about 3:45. Quite a night. It was especially good seeing everyone.

I had to get up early the next morning - 10:00. All things being equal, anytime before noon is early when you go to bed after 4:00 AM. I kinda felt like Griffin Dunne in After Hours. Man it's been a while since I've referenced that great movie. Anyway, I rolled out of bed and let the dog out, then fell back asleep, awakened sometime later by his barking... and finally very very reluctantly, very much against my body's own wishes, forced myself out of bed, and to head down to the mall for coffee with Amanda. We went over the recent news, which in my case involved the most interesting week of recent memory. We did our usual browsing and other stuff.... the day wasn't all that interesting beyond that.

Erk. I like life right now, but I'm being the 8-Ball in one or two ways. Maybe I used that analogy already yesterday (or someplace else) but it still feels apt. There are some problems that are just a bit too much.

Oh well. I'll deal with them - or time will.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott