Thursday, April 29, 2004 , 5:45 PM
I’m living under a lucky star these days! While in the queue to fly to Heidelberg, I noticed that my passport was going to run out the day before I was to come home. It cost forty quid to have my ticket changed so I’d return the day before that. (We’re not at the lucky part yet.) As soon as I got back to Edinburgh, I ran around town, collecting all the documentation I needed to apply for a new passport. God, I hate bureaucracy! My life is not the sort that fits easily into little application form boxes. I got that done and sent it off. But I’m supposed to travel to Barcelona in less than two weeks, and there’s next to no way that I’d get my passport back before then. I figured I was out the price of my plane tickets — about a hundred quid.
Here’s the lucky part:
I got a call from Air Scotland yesterday. Oh great, I thought, they’re probably calling to remind me I can’t fly ‘cause my passport’s invalid. I was glad I’d noticed on the way to Heidelberg; otherwise I would have shown up to go to Spain and not been able to travel at all. It turns out, though, that Air Scotland was calling to apologise for over-booking my flight. I couldn’t go to Barcelona that day. They offered me a refund.
YAY! So now I can fly last-minute if I get my passport, but I’m not out of pocket if it doesn’t come through in time. I would like to go, though, to attend a conference that’s on there, to be with my friends, and to stay at a beach house Alvaro found for us for free!
The first place I went in my attempts to get a new passport was the Canadian consulate here in Edinburgh. I was told, though, by the woman at the main lobby reception desk that there isn’t a consulate here anymore. She’d retired. She. The woman who was the consulate! Then my mind flipped back to a visit I made with my old boss to the Canadian consulate in Los Angeles. The consulate had airlock doors, massive office space, and a huge staff. They invited us to a lavish lunch at which we heard Lloyd Axworthy, former Minister of Foreign Affairs, speak. Unfortunately, we’d just missed the big blowout party they threw for former Prime Minister (for about five minutes) Kim Campbell, in honour of the launch of the musical she wrote… about the Holocaust.
No, seriously.
~
Heidelberg was lovely. Tomasz is such great company, and the city is so beautiful. It’s as simple as this: I like old stuff. Heidelberg is a music-box of a city, and now I have even more nice memories of it — the shuttered windows of flats behind tall walls along thin, cobbled lanes; the little street-signs with those narrow German fonts; the cathedral in the city, and the castle above; Tomasz and I walking up the hauptstrasse eating ice creams in the warm air of a spring night, or dancing cool and carefree down a street where Latin music played, past people drinking beer at outdoor tables.
My visit last year was the tourist trip. This time was more of a social visit, and I got to meet some of the people in Tomasz’s world. One night we went out with a bunch of the young men and women from the American army that he works with. Americans are… Well, I’ll say no more. They’re different. And they don’t generally blend in well, or notice (or care) that they don’t.
Another night, we went to see a woman sing who works with one of Tomasz’s friends. I was picturing (I don’t know why) a nervous, skinny white girl giving amateur-night kind of performance. Instead, the performer was a large young black woman with a great big voice and a very fun, confident personality. Her singing was pretty good, as she took us through a full programme of Swing-era music. Hearing Thirties music sung in a small German town was a strange experience; my sense of what year it was slipped wildly. Anything her voice lacked she made up for in enormous confidence that carried the whole show and made it a lot of fun.
Tomasz and I spent Saturday in Mannheim, capping off the afternoon with a trip to the planetarium, reclining in the most comfortable chairs in the world, while a giant metal structure with two lens-dotted spheres rose out of the floor, looking like it was going to irradiate us all in our chairs, or zap us if we happened to float to the huge domed roof, a la Logan’s Run. In the end, there was no zapping, but a show about comets… completely in German. I made out a few words, but spent most of the time thinking little more than “Ooh, pretty.”
We met with the friends from the concert again that night for a dinner party. This took place in a lavish penthouse suite overlooking the Neckar River and the rest of Heidelberg, owned by a nice man named Jose — a maxilliofacial reconstructive surgeon for the Army. (Yeah, apparently they have those.) One of his creations was there, a young man who’d just finished his stint in the army, who took a shine to me. He asked me for a kiss, which I gave him, and that little indiscretion became something of a hullaballoo. It all blew over by the following morning, when Tomasz and I met everyone for brunch in a small town nearby where Todd, one of the birthday boys from the previous night’s party, lived. His flat was another good illustration of how the other half lives, except his was modern, full of art and audiovisual equipment, where the other featured lots of old wooden furniture pieces that looked like they’d been rescued from a well-off pirate ship. With all the Gianni Versace plates and the sassy talk between the guests, I found myself wondering about the American army: Don’t ask, don’t tell, but scream if you want to, sister!
Tomasz and I had to leave lunch promptly so he could drive me to the airport. I’m so happy to know him, and that I’ve taken these spontaneous trips to see him. Unfortunately, circumstances make it impossible for us to be more than friends right now, and we kept things nice and simple this trip — which was probably what both of us needed more than anything (“Love without complication,” as he said). But he’s someone really special, and I wonder if one day circumstances might be different…
10:00 AM
ACK! My web host had some problems and I was without e-mail for a few days and this website was down. Apologies if you’ve tried to reach me and your message was bounced back to you. I assure you I’m alive and well and back home in Edinburgh. The e-mail kinks may not be completely sorted out yet (the DNS information has yet to propagate itself fully through the web — I think), so please bear with me.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004 , 11:54 AM
I’m sitting, typing in the sun. Outside, birds chirp, a baby mewls, and some people talk loudly to each other in a language I don’t understand. There are two cats here in the flat. I’m not a cat-person, but I have to laugh at them. They’re definitely not innocent, not with the running around and getting into things that they do. But they are naive. Yes, if you pull that, that will fall down — yet each time they’re surprised. They jump at bugs, they climb the furniture and chase each other, then stop and give a look that just says “What?”
When I was a kid, I’d get so upset about things. The next day, though, my mum would ask me about them and I’d say, “Oh, that was yesterday.” I’m still like that, it seems: I don’t stay down for long. Getting away from things was a very good plan. I’m really happy today. I love that I’m old enough to know how to be me, what I need in certain situations. I’ve learned stuff, things will be different, but my commitment is to having life work.
I’m excited to be here, and happy to realise that, while I think of ‘success’ as a far-off thing, I have the freedom and means to up and go wherever I want to when I feel like it. That counts for something.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004 , 2:14 PM
A HORSE IN GORSE
Ladies and gentlemen, Mr MacDonald has left the country.
On the train to the airport, I saw a horse through the window. It was rolling on its back, its giant russet frame tipping back and forth, its hooves in the air. I would give anything to be that horse for a week. No thoughts or worries, no feelings it’s trying not to feel. Just legs and back and muscles and lungs. To run through that endless field of grass bursting with yellow gorse beside the dark grey sea.
But I’m not a horse, I’m a human being, with thoughts and confusion and feelings. So this is the best available option.
This heart is closed for repairs.
Sunday, April 18, 2004 , 6:03 PM
104, 938 words. Idea in Stone is finished.
I walked up to the top of Calton Hill in the light rain and looked out over the city that was the setting for this novel and for so many of my thoughts over the past year-and-a-half of writing it. As always, I cried that these characters weren’t going to be in my life anymore. But that happens with real people, too.
Saturday, April 17, 2004 , 12:27 PM
I’m running my bath, gearing myself up for a day of writing. Today’s task is Chapter 27, the penultimate chapter in my book. I’m usually a bit nervous before setting down a chapter — particularly one so close to the end of the book — because it’s an act of taking infinite possibility and transcribing it in one single, limited way. Then there are all those inappropriate-at-this-stage thoughts, which can be summarised as “What will they think?!” Of course, this is the last thing to consider while I’m in the process of writing. Instead, I have to immerse myself in the story and tell the next part of it the way it wants to be told. The story always has its own integrity.
Well, the story has its own integrity when the author is true to himself and doesn’t muck about with what he’s received from that place where ideas come from. But there are always those who want to tamper with that purity and integrity. Here, for instance, is an example that the creatures of hell do walk this earth:
http://www.customizedclassics.com/romeo-juliet.asp Yes, that’s right: Romeo and Juliet, customised with your names, pictures, and with a new, improved, happy ending.
Thursday, April 15, 2004 , 11:31 AM
I made an awesome gazpacho yesterday. I’m proud of that. Particularly odd is that it contains cucumbers, which I usually hate, but here they work. Eating it reminded me of being in Madrid last year with Lisa, sitting at a patio restaurant in a tiny side street that was more like an alley.
I’m on the phone with my GP’s office. Their hold music sounds Eine Kleine Nachtmusik played on one of those 1980s Casio calculators with the piano keys. If bureaucracy had a sound, this would be it.
Wednesday, April 14, 2004 , 12:32 PM
I’ve met a great guy named Lorne, who I believe is going to be a good friend for a long time. Last night, we went to a movie, then he twisted my rubber arm and got me out for drinks. A big dance club was having its second anniversary, so drinks were cheap-cheap, and the place was hopping. (Lorne’s speciality is promotions — he’s a different form of life to me — so he likes being out on the scene.)
It was a school night. I drank way too much. We did have fun, though. I’m trying to stir up that summer feeling of going out and living as much as possible. The only catch is — well, it’s half-one, and I’m just starting work (having just had a breakfast of pizza and a bowl of peanuts).
Dangerous. But fun.
Monday, April 12, 2004 , 9:44 PM
I have no groceries in the flat, so I thawed some rolls tonight and made garlic bread for supper. I’d kinda forgotten to eat today. Unfortunately, the bread tore the hell out of my hard palate. Ouch. I’m drinking tea now, which is nice once it’s inside, but hurts like a @$*%# on the way in.
Last night, I went to see Shaun of the Dead with some mates. My God, it was funny. I can’t begin to describe it, except to say that it raised my appreciation of British humour to a new level. Hollywood is just not capable of such a movie. I also appreciated how much I’ve been paying attention that I got the humour in such a very British movie.
~
Why can’t I choose my feelings? I mean, they’re mine, right?
Creative people who can’t help but explore other mental territories are at greater risk, just as someone who climbs a mountain is more at risk than someone who just walks along a village lane.
R.D. Laing
Tuesday, April 06, 2004 , 9:32 AM
I had a great time this past weekend visiting my friend Patrick’s family in Burghwallis, near Doncaster. I was expecting it to be a time full of “Oh, so that’s why you do this or that”, but instead, I met completely different people who all shared a common something — and it’s difficult to articulate what that was. It’s a feeling, an outlook, a way of being. This quality has a lot to do with why I like hanging out with Patrick so much, so I immediately felt an affection for the rest of the family, too.
It was a great break, to walk through the lovely countryside around their house — a completely different side of England I’d not seen before, much like the spot in Belgium I visited several years ago, or my imaginations of rural France. It’s also nice to stay at a “grown-up” house and be taken care of by parents, even if they’re not my own. I was able to completely disconnect and relax, which had the happy side-effect of rejuvenating my brain. The first two mornings I woke up, I discovered that bits of the end of my novel had bubbled up into my consciousness, fully-formed, and I watched them in my head like a movie. I love when the work gets done like that. It won’t take many more writing sessions to finish the book now, and it really helps to have such a vivid sense of how things must end. Each image or event I pictured made me react with an “Oh, of course that’s what has to happen! That ties together this, and that, and this…” That gives me a lot more confidence than having to sit down and pull it out.
The postman just stuffed something through my mail-slot, a brown paper-wrapped package the size of a book. Without even opening it, I know what it is: my annual Easter bunny from my mum. I love that she does this, even though it’s silly for her to spend three times the price of the thing sending it to me. I can’t wait to see them and my Toronto friends when I visit this summer. And I just booked my tickets the other day to go to Barcelona with my friend Lisa. So life is very active and mobile these days, between planning larger trips and taking these fun weekend road trips with Patrick. I worry a bit that I’m not attending enough to my life here in Edinburgh (and I do feel homesick every time I go somewhere else), but life does continue apace here. I’m still making new friends, each of whom is like a good book I can’t wait to sit down and read.