Thought Trafficking

Never put off until you are pregnant and working what you can do when you are 16.
July 18, 2013, 4:28 am
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That is, in my case, an upper-level piano exam with the RCM. My poetic brain has been replaced by a tactile one. Not that they aren’t part of the same larger organ, though I’m not sure which one. The liver? 

At a time when I feel like maybe I should have more to say than ever, I’m mostly wordless. Toronto is no place for human beings in the summer; I rhapsodized the hot summer evenings of Victoria. Now I just hide. This baby must be a baby of the West, destiny manifest, wanting nothing more than an absurdly long drive through the mountains in either direction, or a compelling flatland. Already at 5 months, it scoffs at the ubiquitous Eastern metal silo, prefers the grain elevator as linchpin of the landscape. Already the first kicks are like the needle of a compass drawn by a magnet: will it insist on being born facing toward the Pacific?

A scant three years ago I learned to fast for Ramadan, now I am learning how to not fast during Ramadan. Tonight I tried to make koofteh for dinner. Then, while they were cooking, I googled what I will rightly call real koofteh. Mine was the right colour, but other than that… Real koofteh can be a giant meatball with a cooked egg on the inside, or, in some cases apparently, a whole chicken. Mine was the right colour, but the consistency was inconsistent. Then I checked and there were no chickens inside my meatballs. Where did I go wrong?

So at this time of night I lie on the couch, wanting to go to bed, wearing old starched cotton pajamas in an attempt to mitigate the heat, wondering whether I should go downstairs and water the tomatoes, resenting the night air or what I imagine the night air to be. Later, I’ll try to sleep, hugging a water bottle that I’ve had in the freezer all day and setting my prayers on the kind of thunderstorm that breaks the heat. 


May 13, 2013, 12:28 am
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It’s all the cha-Rage! (apologies)

We recently invented a new kind of party game with our landlords’ children, modeled on Charades. The rules are very much the same, except that the scenes/professions/feelings acted out have to be extremely conceptual, and/or so complicated as to be almost unguessable. For example, to act out “tree” is unacceptable. Suggestions for scenes include “Mermaid gazing at a kingdom,”  “Almighty God,” “Bactrian camel,” “Man on a rock looking at a lion.” Many of the suggestions of that particular game were inspired by religious imagery, but we suggest no particular theme.

I think it’s probable that most of us played a game of charades something like this as children, but why not make it official and try it again as adults? You get the fun of guessing without the pressure to be correct and, more than that, you get to witness the intense concentration it takes for one person to briefly inhabit these personas or situations. 

Party time!